ten.
“No, Anastasia, I’m a very lucky man.”
“Thank you.” Stretching up on tiptoes, I put my arms around his neck and kiss
him . . . not for giving me the bracelet, but for being mine.
Back in the car he’s introspective, gazing out at the fields of bright
sunflowers, their heads following and basking in the afternoon sun. One of
the twins—I think it’s Gaston—is driving and Taylor is beside him up front.
Christian is brooding about something. Reaching over, I clasp his hand,
giving it a reassuring squeeze. He turns to look at me, before releasing my
hand and caressing my knee. I’m wearing a short, full, blue and white skirt,
and a blue, fitted, sleeveless shirt. Christian hesitates, and I don’t know if his
hand is going to tra一vel up my thigh or down my leg. I tense with anticipation at
the gentle touch of his fingers
52 | P a g e
E L JAMES
and my breath catches. What’s he going to do? He chooses down, suddenly
grasps my ankle and pulls my foot on to his lap. I swivel my backside so I am
facing him in the back of the car.
“I want the other one, too.”
Oh! Why? I glance nervously toward Taylor and Gaston, whose eyes are
resolutely on the road ahead, and place my other foot on his lap. His eyes
cool, he reaches over and presses a button located in his door. In front of us,
a lightly tinted privacy screen slides out of a panel, and ten seconds later we
are effectively on our own. Wow . . . no wonder the back of this car has so
much legroom.
“I want to look at your ankles,” Christian offers his quiet explanation. His gaze
is anxious. What now? The cuff marks? Jeez . . . I thought we’d dealt with
this. If there are marks, they are hidden by the sandal straps. I don’t recall
seeing any this morning. Gently, he strokes his thumb up my right instep,
making me wriggle. A smile plays on his lips and deftly he undoes one strap,
and his smile fades as he’s confronted with the darker red marks.
“Doesn’t hurt,” I murmur. He glances at me and his expression is sad, his
mouth a thin l
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