He is punctual, of course, and waiting for me when I leave Clayton’s. He climbs out of the back of the Audi to open the door and smiles warmly at me.
“Good evening, Miss Steele,” he says.
“Mr. Grey.” I nod politely to him as I climb into the backseat of the car. Taylor is sitting in the driver’s seat.
“Hello, Taylor,” I say.
“Good evening, Miss Steele,” his voice is polite and professional. Christian climbs in the other side and clasps my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze that I feel all the way though my body.
“How was work?” he asks.
“Very long,” I reply, and my voice is husky, too low, and full of need.