ly as an
unpleasant thought crosses his mind. It distresses me. I
reach up and caress his face.
“You can kill me like this anytime,” I whisper. I notice
that he’s gloriously naked and ready for action. When he
takes my hand and kisses my knuckles, I lean up and
capture his face between my hands and pull his mouth to
mine. He kisses me briefly, then stops.
“This is what I want to do,” he murmurs and reaches
“This is what I want to do,” he murmurs and reaches
beneath his pillow for the music center remote. He presses
a button and the soft strains of a guitar echo round the
walls.
“I want to make love to you,” he says gazing down at
me, his gray eyes burning with bright, loving sincerity.
Softly in background, a familiar voice starts to sing “The
First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.” And his lips find mine.
As I tighten around him, finding my release once more,
Christian unra一vels in my arms, his head thrown back as he
calls out my name. He clasps me tightly to his chest as we
sit nose to nose in the middle of his vast bed, me astride
him. And in this moment—this moment of joy with this
man to this music—the intensity of my experience this
morning in here with him and all that has occurred during
the past week overwhelms me anew, not just physically
but emotionally. I am completely overcome with all these
feelings. I am so deeply, deeply in love with him. For the
first time I’m offered a glimmer of understanding as to how
he feels about my safety.
Recalling his close call with Charlie Tango yesterday, I
shudder at the thought and tears pool in my eyes. If
anything ever happened to him—I love him so. My tears
run unchecked down my cheeks. So many sides of
Christian—his sweet, gentle persona and his rugged, Ican-
do-what-I-fucking-well-like-to-you-and-you’ll-comelike-
a-train Dominant side—his fifty shades—all of him.
All spectacular. All mine. And I’m aware we don’t know
each other well, and we ha一ve a mountain of issues to
overcome, but I know for each other, we will—and w
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