itch, you know, Miss Steele.”
“I am glad to hear it, Mr. Grey. I was beginning to
think you were losing your edge,” I retort.
“I could easily demonstrate that is not the case, should
you so wish.” Christian drags a large, cream, cable-knit
sweater out of his bag and drapes it artfully over his
shoulders. With his white T-shirt and jeans, his artfully
rumpled hair, and now this, he looks as if he’s stepped out
of the pages of a high-end glossy magazine.
No one should look this good. And I don’t know if it’s
the momentary distraction of his sheer perfect looks or the
knowledge that he loves me, but his threat no longer fills
me with dread. This is my Fifty Shades; this is the way he
is.
As I reach for the hairdryer, a tangible ray of hope
As I reach for the hairdryer, a tangible ray of hope
blossoms. We will find a middle way. We just ha一ve to
recognize each other’s needs and accommodate them. I
can do that, surely?
I gaze at myself in the dresser mirror. I’m wearing the
pale blue shirt that Taylor bought and had packed for me.
My hair is a mess, my face flushed, my lips swollen—I
touch them, remembering Christian’s searing kisses, and I
can’t help a small smile as I stare. Yes, I do, he said.
“Where are we going exactly?” I ask as we wait in the
lobby for the parking valet.
Christian taps the side of his nose and winks at me
conspiratorially, looking like he’s desperately trying to
contain his glee. Frankly, it’s very un-Fifty.
He was like this when we went gliding—perhaps that’s
what we’re doing. I beam back at him. He stares down his
nose at me in that superior way he has with his lopsided
grin. Leaning down, he kisses me gently.
“Do you ha一ve any idea how happy you make me feel?”
he murmurs.
“Yes . . . I know exactly. Because you do the same for
me.”
The valet zooms up in Christian’s car, wearing a facesplitting
grin. Jeez, everyone is so happy today.
“Great car, sir,” he mumbles as he hands over the
keys. Christian winks and gives him an obscenely large
tip.
I fr
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