iff. “It’s just . . . it’s just sometimes I’m overwhelmed by how much I love
you,” I whisper. He blinks down at me.
“Oh.” Then he smiles his special shy smile—reserved for me, I think. “You
ha一ve the same effect on me,” he whispers, and kisses me once more. I smile
up at him, and inside my joy unfurls and stretches lazily.
“Do I?”
He smirks. “You know you do.”
“Sometimes I know. Not all the time.”
“Back at you, Mrs. Grey,” he whispers.
I grin and gently place feather-light kisses over his chest. I nuzzle his chest
hair. Christian caresses my hair and runs a hand down my back. He
unclasps my bra and pulls the strap down one arm. I shift, and he tugs the
strap down the other arm and drops my bra on the floor.
“Hmm. Skin on skin,” he murmurs appreciatively and folds me in his arms
again. He kisses my shoulder and runs his nose up to my ear.
“You smell like hea一ven, Mrs. Grey.”
166 | P a g e
E L JAMES
“So do you, Mr. Grey.” I nuzzle him again and inhale his Christian smell,
which is now mixed with the heady scent of sex. I could stay wrapped in his
arms like this, sated and happy, forever. It’s just what I need after a full day of
back-to-work, arguing, and bitch slapping. This is where I want to be, and in
spite of his control freakery, his megalomania, this is where I belong.
Christian buries his nose in my hair and inhales deeply. I let out a contented
sigh, and I feel his smile. And we sit, arms clasped around each other,
saying nothing. Eventually reality intrudes.
“It’s late,” Christian says, his fingers methodically stroking my back.
“Your hair still needs cutting.”
He chuckles. “That it does, Mrs. Grey. Do you ha一ve the energy to finish the
job you started?”
“For you, Mr. Grey, anything.” I kiss his chest once more and reluctantly
stand.
“Don’t go.” Grabbing my hips, he turns me around. He straightens then
undoes my skirt, letting it drop to the floor. He holds his hand out to me. I take
it and step out of my skirt. Now I am dressed solely in stockings and garte
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