Chapter Nine
When I wake before the alarm the following morning, Christian is wrapped
around me like ivy, his head on my chest, his arm around my waist and his
leg between mine—and he’s on my side of the bed. It’s always the same, if
we argue the night before, this is how he ends up, coiled around me, making
me hot and bothered.
Oh, Fifty. He is so needy on some level. Who would ha一ve thought?
The familiar vision of Christian as a dirty, wretched little boy haunts me.
Gently, I stroke his shorter hair and my melancholy recedes. He stirs, and his
sleepy eyes meet mine. He blinks a couple of times as he wakes.
“Hi,” he murmurs and smiles.
“Hi.” I love waking to that smile.
He nuzzles my breasts and hums appreciatively deep in his throat. His hand
tra一vels down from my waist, skimming over the cool satin of my nightgown.
“What a tempting morsel you are,” he mutters. “But, tempting though you are,”
he glances at the alarm, “I ha一ve to get up.” He stretches out, untangling
himself from me, and rises. I lie back, put my hands behind my head, and
enjoy the show—
Christian stripping for his shower. He is perfect. I wouldn’t change a hair on
his head . . . well, except when his hair gets too long.
“Admiring the view, Mrs. Grey?” Christian arches a sardonic brow at me.
“It’s a mighty fine view, Mr. Grey.”
He grins and throws his pajama pants at me so they almost land on my face,
but I catch them in time, giggling like a schoolgirl. With a wicked grin, he
reaches down, pulls the duvet off, puts one knee on the bed and grabs my
ankles, pulling me toward him so that my nightdress rides up. I squeal, and
he crawls up my body, trailing little kisses on my knee, my thigh . . . my . . . oh
. . . Christian!
174 | P a g e
E L JAMES
“Good morning, Mrs. Grey,” Mrs. Jones greets me. I flush, embarrassed
remembering her tryst with Taylor the night before.
“Good morning,” I respond as she hands me a cup of tea. I sit on the bar
stool beside my husband, who just looks radiant: freshly showe
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