x.” My voice disappears into a whisper.
He stares at me, his eyes glowing—this time not with mirth at my folly, but
with love.
“Oh Ana,” he breathes. He leans down and kisses me tenderly.
“You beguile me,” he whispers against my lips and kisses me once more,
clasping my face in both his hands.
After a breathless moment, he pulls back and leans up on one elbow. The
humor is back.
“I think I should do a thorough inspection of your handiwork, Mrs. Grey.”
“What? No.” He has to be kidding! I cover myself, protecting my recently
deforested area.
“Oh no you don’t, Anastasia.” He grasps my hands and pries them away,
moving nimbly so he’s between my legs, pinning my hands to my sides. He
gives me a burning look that could light dry tinder, but before I combust, he
bends and skims his lips down my naked belly directly to my sex. I squirm
beneath him, reluctantly resigned to my fate.
“Well, what ha一ve we here?” Christian plants a kiss where, until this morning, I
had pubic hair—then scrapes his bristly chin across me.
“Ah!” I exclaim. Wow . . . that’s sensitive.
Christian’s eyes dart to mine, full of salacious longing. “I think you missed a
bit,” he mutters and tugs gently, right underneath.
“Oh . . . Damn,” I mutter, hoping this will put an end to his frankly intrusive
scrutiny.
“I ha一ve an idea.” He leaps naked out of bed and heads to the bathroom.
What on earth is he doing? He returns moments later, carrying a glass of
water, a mug, my razor, his sha一ving brush, soap, and a towel. He puts the
water, brush, soap, and razor on the bedside table and gazes down at me,
holding the towel.
Oh no! My subconscious slams down her Complete Works of Charles
Dickens, leaps up from her armchair, and puts her hands on her hips.
44 | P a g e
E L JAMES
“No. No. No,” I squeak.
“Mrs. Grey, if a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well. Lift your hips.” His
eyes glow, summer storm gray.
“Christian! You are not sha一ving me.”
He tilts his head to one side. “Why ever not?”
I flush . . . isn’t it
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