Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry, you don't know how lovely you are. I have to find you, tell you i need you. Tell you I set you apart. Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions, oh let's go back to the start.

This man is perfection.

“No. No!” he says.
“I . . .” He looks wildly around the room. For inspiration? For divine intervention? I don’t know.
“You can’t go. Ana, I love you!”
“I love you, too, Christian, it’s just—”
“No . . . no!” he says in desperation and puts b

oth hands on his head. “Christian . . .”
“No,” he breathes, his eyes wide with panic, and suddenly he drops to his knees in front of me, head bowed, long-fingered hands spread out on his thighs. He takes a deep breath and doesn’t move. What? 
“Christian, what are you doing?”
He continues to stare down, not looking at me. 
“Christian! What are you doing?”
My voice is high-pitched. He doesn’t move. 
“Christian, look at me!” I command in panic. His head sweeps up without hesitation, and he regards me passively with his cool gray gaze—he’s almost serene . . . expectant.
Holy Fuck . . . Christian. The submissive.”