e me up?” he asks, obviously reading my expression correctly.
He sounds shocked. I blush.
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E L JAMES
“Well . . .”
“Ana, I . . .” he stops, and something dark crosses his face.
“Christian,” I whisper, alarmed. I move so that I am lying on my side, propped
up on my elbow like him. Reaching over, I caress his face. His eyes are large
and fearful. He shakes his head sadly. Shit!
“Christian, stop. It doesn’t matter. I thought that’s what you meant.”
He takes my hand and places it on his pounding heart. Fuck! What is it?
“Ana, I don’t know how I’d feel about you touching me if I was restrained.”
My scalp prickles. It’s like he’s confessing something deep and dark.
“This is still too new.” His voice is low and raw.
Fuck. It was just a question . . . and I realize that he’s come a long way, but he
still has a long way to go. Oh, Fifty, Fifty, Fifty. Anxiety grips my heart. I lean
over and he freezes, but I plant a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth.
“Christian, I got the wrong idea. Please don’t worry about it. Please don’t
think about it.” I kiss him. He closes his eyes and groans and reciprocates,
pushing me down into the mattress, his hands clasping my chin. And soon
we’re lost . . . lost in each other again.
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Fifty Shades Freed