This is all I know, too. Perhaps together we can chart a new course.

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.

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.

And the baby?" The words are anguished, breathless.
"The baby's fine, Mr. Grey."
"Oh, thank God." The words are litany... a prayer, "Oh, thank God.