r
belt.
“You are a mighty fine sight, Mrs. Grey.” He sits back in the chair and
crosses his arms, giving me a full and frank appraisal. I hold out my hands
and twirl for him.
“God, I’m a lucky son of a bitch,” he says admiringly.
“Yes, you are.”
He grins. “Put my shirt on and you can cut my hair. Like this, you’ll distract
me, and we’ll never get to bed.”
I can’t help my answering smile. Knowing that he’s watching my every move, I
sashay over to where we left my shoes and his shirt. Bending slowly, I reach
down, pick up his shirt, smell it— hmm—then shrug it on.
Christian blinks at me, his eyes round. He’s redone his fly and is watching
me intently.
“That’s quite a floor show, Mrs. Grey.”
“Do we ha一ve any scissors?” I ask innocently, batting my eyelashes.
“My study,” he croaks.
167 | P a g e
Fifty Shades Freed
“I’ll go search.” Lea一ving him, I walk into our bedroom and grab my comb from
the dressing table before heading to his study. As I enter the main corridor, I
notice the door to Taylor’s office is open. Mrs. Jones is standing just beyond
the door. I stop, rooted to the spot. Taylor is running his fingers down her face
and smiling sweetly at her. Then he leans down and kisses her.
Holy shit! Taylor and Mrs. Jones? I gape in astonishment—I mean, I thought
. . . well, I kind of suspected. But obviously they are together!
I flush, feeling like a voyeur, and manage to get my feet to move. I scamper
across the great room and into Christian’s study. Switching on the light, I
walk to his desk. Taylor and Mrs. Jones . . . Wow! I’m reeling. I always
thought Mrs. Jones was older than Taylor. Oh, I ha一ve to get my head around
this. I open the top drawer and am immediately distracted when I find a gun.
Christian has a gun!
A revolver. Holy fuck! I had no idea Christian owned a gun. I take it out, slip
the release and check the cylinder. It’s fully loaded, but light . . . too light. It
must be carbon fiber. What does Christian want with a gun? Jeez, I hope he
knows how to us
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