ey, maybe I will.” He bends to kiss me
then grabs the small bowl on the table that contains the butt plug, the tube of
lubricant, the blindfold, and my panties.
“Who cleans these toys?” I ask as I follow him over to the chest. He frowns at
me, as if not understanding the question. “Me. Mrs. Jones.”
“What?”
He nods, amused and embarrassed, I think. He switches off the music. “Well
—um . . .”
“Your subs used to do it?” I finish his sentence. He gives me an apologetic
shrug.
“Here.” He hands me his shirt and I put it on, wrapping it around myself. His
scent still clings to the linen, and my chagrin about butt plug washing is
forgotten. He lea一ves the items on the chest. Taking my hand, he unlocks the
playroom door then leads me out and downstairs. I follow him meekly.
The anxiety, the bad mood, the thrill, fear, and excitement of the car chase
ha一ve all gone. I’m relaxed—finally sated and calm. As we enter our
bathroom, I yawn loudly and stretch . . . at ease with myself for a change.
“What is it?” Christian asks as he turns on the faucet. I shake my head.
“Tell me,” he asks softly. He spills jasmine bath oil into the running water,
filling the room with its sweet, sensual scent. I flush. “I just feel better.”
He smiles. “Yes, you’ve been in a strange mood today, Mrs. Grey.”
Standing, he pulls me into his arms. “I know you’re worrying about these
recent events. I’m sorry you’re caught up in them. I don’t know if 111 | P a g e
Fifty Shades Freed
it’s a vendetta, an ex-employee, or a business rival. If anything were to
happen to you because of me—” His voice drops to a pained whisper. I curl
my arms around him.
“What if something happens to you, Christian?” I voice my fear. He gazes
down at me. “We’ll figure this out. Now let’s get you out of this shirt and into
this bath.”
“Shouldn’t you talk to Sawyer?”
“He can wait.” His mouth hardens, and I feel a sudden pang of pity for
Sawyer. What’s he done to upset Christian?
Christian helps me out of his shirt then frowns as I t
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