yone. I can’t remember being this angry . . . except—” He stops again.
Oh?
“Except?” I prompt.
“Once in your old apartment. When Leila was there.”
Oh. Then. I don’t want to think about that.
“You were so cold this morning,” I murmur. My voice cracks on the last word
as I remember the hideous feeling of rejection in the shower. His hands
move to the nape of my neck, loosening their grip on me, and I take a deep
breath. He pulls my head back.
“I don’t know how to deal with this anger. I don’t think I want to hurt you,” he
says, his eyes wide and wary. “This morning, I wanted to punish you, badly
and—” He stops, lost for words I think, or too afraid to say them.
“You were worried you’d hurt me?” I finish his sentence for him, not believing
that he’d hurt me for a minute, but relieved, too. A small vicious part of me
feared it was because he didn’t want me anymore.
“I didn’t trust myself,” he says quietly.
“Christian, I know you’d never hurt me. Not physically, anyway.” I clasp his
head between my hands.
“Do you?” he asks, and there’s skepticism in his voice.
“Yes. I knew what you said was an empty, idle threat. I know you’re not going
to beat the shit out of me.”
“I wanted to.”
“No you didn’t. You just thought you did.”
“I don’t know if that’s true,” he murmurs.
“Think about it,” I urge, wrapping my arms around him once more and
nuzzling his chest through the black T-shirt. “About how you felt when I left.
You’ve told me often enough what that did to you. How it altered your view of
the world, of me. I know what you’ve given up for me. Think about how you felt
about the cuff marks on our honeymoon.”
He stills, and I know he’s processing this information. I tighten my arms
around him, my hands on his back, feeling his taut toned muscles 219 | P a g
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Fifty Shades Freed
beneath his T-shirt. Gradually, he relaxes as the tension slowly ebbs away.
Is this what’s been worrying him? That he’ll hurt me? Why do I ha一ve more
faith in him than he has in himself? I don’t understan
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