own at himself, then back at me, and his face erupts into
an enormous smile.
“Well, you know how hard it is for me to keep my hands off you, Mrs. Grey—
especially when you’re giggling like a schoolgirl.”
Oh yes—the tickling. Gah! The tickling. I move quickly so that I’m straddling
him, but immediately understanding my evil intent, he grabs both of my
wrists.
“No,” he says and he means it.
I pout at him but decide that he’s not ready for this.
“Please don’t,” he whispers. “I couldn’t bear it. I was never tickled as a child.”
He pauses and I relax my hands so he doesn’t ha一ve to restrain me.
“I used to watch Carrick with Elliot and Mia, tickling them, and it looked like
such fun, but I . . . I . . .”
I place my index finger on his lips.
“Hush, I know,” I murmur and plant a soft kiss on his lips where my finger has
just been, then curl up on his chest. The familiar painful ache swells inside
me, and the profound sadness that I hold in my heart for Christian as a little
boy seizes me once more. I know I would do anything for this man because I
love him so.
He puts his arms around me and presses his nose into my hair, inhaling
deeply as he gently strokes my back. I don’t know how long we lie there, but
eventually I break the comfortable silence between us.
“What is the longest you’ve gone without seeing Dr. Flynn?”
“Two weeks. Why? Do you ha一ve an incorrigible urge to tickle me?”
“No.” I chuckle. “I think he helps you.”
Christian snorts. “He should; I pay him enough.” He pulls my hair gently,
turning my face to look up at him. I lift my head and he gazes at me.
“Are you concerned for my well-being, Mrs. Grey?” he asks softly.
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“Every good wife is concerned for her beloved husband’s wellbeing, Mr.
Grey,” I admonish him teasingly.
“Beloved?” he whispers, and it’s a poignant question hanging between us.
“Very much beloved.” I scoot up to kiss him, and he smiles his shy smile.
“Do you want to go ashore to eat, Mrs. Grey?”
“I want to eat wherever you’re
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