Oh. “So why is she trying to get your attention now?”
He shakes his head sadly. “I don’t know. All we’ve
managed to find out is that she ran out on her husband
about four months ago.”
“Let me get this straight. She hasn’t been your
submissive for three years?”
“About two and a half years.”
“And she wanted more.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t?”
“You know this.”
“So she left you.”
“Yes.”
“So why is she coming to you now?”
“I don’t know.” And the tone of this voice tells me that
he at least has a theory.
“But you suspect . . .”
His eyes narrow perceptibly with anger. “I suspect it
has something to do with you.”
Me? What would she want with me? “What do you
ha一ve that I don’t?”
I stare at Fifty, magnificently naked from the waist up. I
ha一ve him; he’s mine. That’s what I ha一ve, and yet she
looked like me: same dark hair and pale skin. I frown at
the thought. Yes . . . what do I ha一ve that she doesn’t?
“Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?” he asks softly.
“I forgot about her.” I shrug apologetically. “You
know, drinks after work, at the end of my first week. You
turning up at the bar and your . . . testosterone rush with
Jack, and then when we were here. It slipped my mind.
You ha一ve a habit of making me forget things.”
You ha一ve a habit of making me forget things.”
“Testosterone rush?” His lips twitch.
“Yes. The pissing contest.”
“I’ll show you a testosterone rush.”
“Wouldn’t you rather ha一ve a cup of tea?”
“No, Anastasia, I wouldn’t.”
His eyes burn into me, scorching me with his I-wantyou-
and-I-want-you-now look. Fuck . . . it’s so hot.
“Forget about her. Come.” He holds out his hand.
My inner goddess does three back flips over the gym
floor as I grasp his hand.
I wake, too warm, and I’m wrapped around a naked
Christian Grey. Even though he’s fast asleep, he’s holding
me close. Soft morning light filters through the curtains. My
head is on his chest, my leg tangled with his, my arm
across his stomach.
I raise my head slightly, scared that I might wake him.
He looks so young, s
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