You're not celibate, then?" I breathe.
Amusement lights up his eyes.
"No, Anastasia, I'm not celibate.

We didn’t-?” I whisper, my mouth drying in mortified horror as I can’t complete the question. I stare at my hands.
“Anastasia, you were comatose. Necrophilia is not my thing. I like my women sentient and receptive,” he says dryly.

I glance down his body. He's still wearing his shorts and his shirt, and I still have my T-shirt on. Jeez-- talk about wham, bam, thank you ma'am.

Coveralls," I reply, and I know I'm no longer screening what's coming out of my mouth.
He raises a eyebrow, amused yet again.
"You wouldn't want to ruin your clothing." I gesture vaguely in the direction of his jeans.
"I could always take them off." He smirks.

From: Christian Grey
Subject: &*%$&*&*
Date: August 23 2011 11:23
To: Anastasia Grey

Believe me when I say there are a great many things he'd like to do to your ass right now. Firing you is not one of them.

Christian Grey
CEO & Ass man, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

You are one brave woman," he whispers, "I am in awe of you.