tions. Pulling my
upper lip down just as he does, to sha一ve his
42 | P a g e
E L JAMES
philtrum. He turns and smirks at me, one half of his face still covered in
sha一ving soap.
“Enjoying the show?” he asks.
Oh, Christian, I could watch you for hours. “One of my all-time fa一vorites,” I
murmur, and he leans down and kisses me quickly, smearing sha一ving soap
on my face.
“Shall I do this to you again?” he whispers wickedly and holds up the razor.
I purse my lips at him. “No,” I mutter, pretending to sulk. “I’ll wax next time.” I
remember Christian’s joy in London when he’d discovered that during his
one meeting there, I’d sha一ved off my pubic hair out of curiosity. Of course I
hadn’t done it to Mr. Exacting’s high standards . . .
~o0o~
“What the hell ha一ve you done?” Christian exclaims. He cannot keep his
horrified amusement to himself. He sits up in bed in our suite at Browns
Hotel near Piccadilly, switches on the bedside light and gazes down at me,
his mouth a startled O. It must be midnight. I blush the color of the sheets in
the playroom and try to pull down my satin nightdress so he can’t see. He
grabs my hand to stop me.
“Ana!”
“I—err . . . sha一ved.”
“I can see that. Why?” He’s grinning from ear to ear. I cover my face with my
hands. Why am I so embarrassed?
“Hey,” he says softly and pulls my hand away. “Don’t hide.” He’s biting his lip
so that he won’t laugh. “Tell me. Why?” His eyes dance with merriment. Why
does he find this so funny?
“Stop laughing at me.”
“I’m not laughing at you. I’m sorry. I’m . . . delighted,” he says.
“Oh . . .”
“Tell me. Why?”
I take a deep breath. “This morning, after you left for your meeting, I took a
shower and was remembering all your rules.”
He blinks. The humor in his expression has vanished, and he regards me
cautiously.
43 | P a g e
Fifty Shades Freed
“And I was ticking them off one by one and how I felt about them, and I
remembered the beauty salon, and I thought . . . this is what you’d like. I
wasn’t bra一ve enough to get a wa
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