boring.
“This.” I stroke my index finger across his lips. “I love
this, and what comes out of it, and what you do to me with
it. And what’s in here.” I caress his temple. “You’re so
smart and witty and knowledgeable, competent in so many
things. But most of all, I love what’s in here.” I press my
palm gently against his chest, feeling his steady, beating
heart. “You are the most compassionate man I’ve met.
What you do. How you work. It’s awe-inspiring,” I
whisper.
“Awe-inspiring?” He’s puzzled, but there’s a trace of
“Awe-inspiring?” He’s puzzled, but there’s a trace of
humor on his face. Then his face transforms, and his shy
smile appears as if he’s embarrassed, and I want to launch
myself at him. So I do.
I am dozing, wrapped in satin and Grey. Christian nuzzles
me awake.
“Hungry?” he whispers
“Hmm, famished.”
“Me, too.”
I lean up to gaze down at him sprawled on the bed.
“It’s your birthday, Mr. Grey. I’ll cook you something.
What would you like?”
“Surprise me.” He runs his hand down my back,
stroking me gently. “I should check my Blackberry for all
the messages I missed yesterday.” He sighs and starts to
sit up, and I know this special time is over . . . for now.
“Let’s shower,” he says.
Who am I to turn down the birthday boy?
Christian is in his study on the phone. Taylor is with him,
looking serious but casual in jeans and a tight, black Tshirt.
I busy myself in the kitchen fixing lunch. I ha一ve found
salmon steaks in the fridge, and I’m poaching them with
lemon, making a salad, and boiling some baby potatoes. I
feel extraordinarily relaxed and happy, on top of the world
—literally. Turning toward the large window, I stare out at
the glorious blue sky. All that talking . . . all that
the glorious blue sky. All that talking . . . all that
sexing . . . hmm. A girl could get used to that.
Taylor emerges from the study, interrupting my reverie.
I turn down my iPod and take out an ear bud.
“Hi, Taylor.”
“Ana.” He nods.
“Your daughter okay?”
“Yes, thanks. My ex-wife
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