been affected, and I’m really seeing double of everything like in old re-runs of Tom and Jerry Cartoons. I think I’m going to be sick. Why did I let myself get this messed up?
“Ana,” José has joined me. “You okay?”
“I think I’ve just had a bit too much to drink.” I smile weakly at him.
“Me too,” he murmurs, and his dark eyes are watching me intently. “Do you need a hand?” he asks and steps closer, putting his arm around me.
“José I’m okay. I’ve got this.” I try and push him away rather feebly.
“Ana, please,” he whispers, and now he’s holding me in his arms, pulling me close.
“José, what you doing?”
“You know I like you Ana, please.” He has one hand at the small of my back holding me against him, the other at my chin tipping back my head. Holy fuck… he’s going to kiss me.
“No José, stop – no.” I push him, but he’s a wall of hard muscle, and I cannot shift him. His hand has slipped into my hair, and he’s holding my head in place.
“Please, Ana, cari?a,” he whispers against my lips. His breath is soft and smells too sweet – of margarita and beer. He gently trails kisses along my jaw up to the side of my mouth. I feel panicky, drunk, and out of control. The feeling is suffocating.
“José, no,” I plead. I don’t want this. You are my friend, and I think I’m going to throw up.
“I think the lady said no.” A voice in the dark says quietly. Holy shit! Christian Grey, he’s here. How? José releases me.
“Grey,” he says tersely. I glance anxiously up at Christian. He’s glowering at José, and he’s furious. Crap. My stomach hea一ves, and I double over, my body no longer able to tolerate the alcohol, and I vomit spectacularly on to the ground.
“Ugh – Dios mio, Ana!” José jumps back in disgust. Grey grabs my hair and pulls it out of the firing line and gently leads me over to a raised flowerbed on the edge of the parking lot. I note, with deep gratitude, that it’s in relative darkness.
“If you’re going to throw up again, do it here. I’ll hold you.” He has one arm around my shoulders – t
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