itrus. It’s actually become a
comforting smell. Releasing me, Christian turns me around until I’m facing
away from him. He undoes the scarf, and I blink in the soft light. Gently, he
pulls the hairpins from my updo, and my braid falls free. He grasps it and
tugs gently so I ha一ve to step back against him.
“I ha一ve a plan,” he whispers in my ear, sending delicious shivers down my
spine.
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E L JAMES
“I thought you might,” I answer. He kisses me beneath my ear.
“Oh, Mrs. Grey, I do.” His tone is soft, mesmerizing. He tugs my braid to the
side and plants a trail of soft kisses down my throat.
“First we ha一ve to get you naked.” His voice hums low in his throat and
resonates through my body. I want this—whatever he has planned. I want to
connect the way we know how. He turns me around to face him. I glance
down at his jeans, the top button still undone, and I can’t help myself.
Reaching out, I brush my index finger around the waistband, feeling the hairs
of his happy trail tickle my knuckle. He inhales sharply, and I look up to meet
his eyes. I stop at the unfastened button. His eyes darken to a deeper gray . .
. oh my.
“You should keep these on,” I whisper.
“I fully intend to, Anastasia.”
And he moves, grabbing me with one hand to the back of my neck and the
other around my backside. He pulls me against him, then his mouth is on
mine and he’s kissing me like his life depends on it. Whoa!
He walks me backward, our tongues entwined, until I feel the wooden cross
behind me. He leans into me, the contours of his body pressing into mine.
“Let’s get rid of this dress,” he says, peeling my dress up my thighs, my hips,
my belly . . . deliciously slowly, the material skimming over my skin, skimming
over my breasts.
“Lean forward,” he says.
I comply, and he pulls my dress over my head and discards it on the floor,
lea一ving me in my sandals, panties, and bra. His eyes blaze as he grasps
both my hands and raises them over my head. He blinks once and tilts his
head to one
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