of time. But I’ll watch something with you.”
“I thought we could make out.”
He whips his face to mine. “Make out?” He gazes at me as if I’ve grown two
heads. He stops the endless flicking, lea一ving the TV on an over lit Spanish
soap opera.
“Yes.” Why is he so horrified?
“We could go to bed and make out.”
122 | P a g e
E L JAMES
“We do that all the time. When was the last time you made out in front of the
TV?” I ask, shy and teasing at the same time. He shrugs and shakes his
head. Pressing the remote again he flicks through another few channels
before settling on an old episode of The X-Files.
“Christian?”
“I’ve never done that,” he says quietly.
Oh! “Never?”
“No.”
“Not even with Mrs. Robinson?”
He snorts. “Baby, I did a lot of things with Mrs. Robinson. Making out was not
one of them.” He smirks at me and then narrows his eyes with amused
curiosity. “Ha一ve you?”
I flush. “Of course.” Well kind of . . .
“What! Who with?”
Oh no. I do not want to ha一ve this discussion.
“Tell me,” he persists.
I gaze down at my knotted fingers. He gently covers my hands with one of his.
When I glance up at him, he’s smiling at me.
“I want to know. So I can beat whoever it was to a pulp.”
I giggle. “Well, the first time . . .”
“The first time! There’s more than one fucker?” He growls. I giggle again.
“Why so surprised, Mr. Grey?”
He frowns briefly, runs a hand through his hair, and looks at me as if seeing
me in a completely different light. He shrugs. “I just am. I mean—given your
lack of experience.”
I flush. “I’ve certainly made up for that since I met you.”
“You ha一ve.” He grins. “Tell me. I want to know.”
I gaze into patient gray eyes, trying to gauge his mood. Is this going to make
him mad, or does he genuinely want to know? I don’t want him sulking . . .
he’s impossible when he’s sulking.
“You really want me to tell you?”
He nods slowly once, and his lips twitch with an amused, arrogant smile.
“I was briefly in Vegas with Mom and Husband Number Three. I was in tenth
grade. His nam
本章未完，点击下一页继续阅读。