te-so-sparkling
water and take a welcome sip, trying to bring my erratic heart rate under
control.
“Ryan caught Jack.” I try a different tack, and I place my glass beside his on
the bedside table.
“I know,” he says icily.
Of course he knows. “Are you going to be monosyllabic for long?”
His eyebrows move fractionally registering his surprise as if he hadn’t
expected this question. “Yes,” he says finally. Oh . . . okay. What to do?
Defense—the best form of attack. “I’m sorry I stayed out.”
“Are you?”
“No,” I mutter after a pause, because it’s true.
“Why say it then?”
“Because I don’t want you to be mad at me.”
He sighs hea一vily as if he’s been holding this tension for a thousand hours and
runs his hand through his hair. He looks beautiful. Mad, but beautiful. I drink
him in—Christian’s back—angry, but in one piece.
“I think Detective Clark wants to talk to you.”
“I’m sure he does.”
“Christian, please . . .”
“Please what?”
“Don’t be so cold.”
His eyebrows rise in surprise once more. “Anastasia, cold is not what I’m
feeling at the moment. I’m burning. Burning with rage. I don’t know how to
deal with these”—he wa一ves his hand searching for the word—“feelings.” His
tone is bitter.
Oh shit. His honesty disarms me. All I want to do is crawl into his lap. It’s all
I’ve wanted to do since I came home last night. But right now, I don’t think it’s
a good idea. Is it? To hell with this. I move, taking him by surprise and
climbing awkwardly into his lap, where I 201 | P a g e
Fifty Shades Freed
curl up. He doesn’t push me away, which is what I’d feared. After a beat, he
folds his arms around me and buries his nose in my hair. He smells of
whiskey. Jeez, how much did he drink? He smells of bodywash, too . . . he
smells of Christian. I wrap my arms around his neck and nuzzle his throat,
and he sighs once more, deeply this time.
“Oh, Mrs. Grey. What am I going to do with you?” He kisses the top of my
head. I close my eyes, relishing the contact with him.
“How much ha一ve you had to d
本章未完，点击下一页继续阅读。