Chapter Eleven
“Ha一ve you now?” I whisper. My mouth goes drier still, my heart pounding in
my chest. Why’s he dressed like this? What does it mean?
Is he still sulking?
“I ha一ve.” His voice is kitten soft, but he’s smirking as he strolls closer to me.
Holy crap he looks hot—his jeans hanging, that way, from his hips. Oh no, I’m
not going to be distracted by Mr. Sex-on-legs. I try to gauge his mood as he
stalks toward me. Angry? Playful? Lustful? Gah! It’s impossible to tell.
“I like your jeans,” I murmur. He grins a disarming wolfish grin that doesn’t
reach his eyes. Shit—he’s still mad. He’s wearing these to distract me . . .
He halts in front of me, and I’m seared by his intensity. He gazes down, wide
unreadable eyes burning into mine. I swallow.
“I understand you ha一ve issues, Mrs. Grey,” he says silkily, and he pulls
something from the back pocket of his jeans. I can’t tear my gaze from his
but hear him unfold a piece of paper. He holds it up, and glancing briefly in its
direction, I recognize my e-mail. My gaze returns to his, as his eyes blaze
bright with anger.
“Yes, I ha一ve issues,” I whisper, feeling breathless. I need distance if we’re
going to discuss this. But before I can step back, he leans down and runs his
nose along mine. My eyes flutter to a close as I welcome his unexpected,
gentle touch.
“So do I,” he whispers against my skin, and I open my eyes at his words. He
straightens and gazes intently at me once more.
“I think I’m familiar with your issues, Christian.” My voice is wry, and he
narrows his eyes, suppressing the amusement that sparks there
momentarily. Are we going to fight? I take a precautionary step back. I must
physically distance myself from him—from his smell, his look, his distracting
body in those hot jeans. He frowns as I move away.
“Why did you fly back from New York?” I whisper. Let’s get this over and
done with.
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Fifty Shades Freed
“You know why.” His tone carries a warning ring.
“Because I went out with Kate?”
“Beca
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