at me for a beat, and his arrogant amusement is back.
“Because I can.”
“So you’re going to cook?” I give him an incredulous smirk.
“Oh, ye of little faith, Mrs. Grey. Close your eyes.”
I blink at him, marveling. I thought we were going to ha一ve a full-on fight, and
here we are, playing in the kitchen.
“Close them,” he orders.
I roll them first, then oblige.
“Hmm. Not good enough,” he mutters. I open one eye and see him take a
plum-colored silk scarf out of the back pocket of his jeans. It matches my
dress. Holy cow. I look quizzically at him. When did he get that?
“Close,” he orders again. “No peeking.”
“You’re going to blindfold me?” I mutter, shocked. All of a sudden I’m
breathless.
“Yes.”
“Christian—” He places a finger upon my lips, silencing me. I want to talk.
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E L JAMES
“We’ll talk later. I want you to eat now. You said you were hungry.” Leaning
over, he lightly kisses my lips. The silk of the scarf is soft against my eyelids
as he ties it securely at the back of my head.
“Can you see?” he asks.
“No,” I mutter, figuratively rolling my eyes. He chuckles softly.
“I can tell when you’re rolling your eyes, you know . . . and you know how that
makes me feel.”
I purse my lips. “Can we just get this over and done with?” I snap.
“Such impatience, Mrs. Grey. So eager to talk.” His tone is playful.
“Yes!”
“I must feed you first,” he says and brushes his lips over my temple, calming
me instantly.
Okay . . . ha一ve it your way. I resign myself to my fate and listen to his
movements around the kitchen. The fridge door opens and Christian places
various dishes on the countertop behind me. He pads over to the microwa一ve,
pops something in, and turns it on. My curiosity is piqued. I hear the toaster
lever drop, the turn of the control, and the quiet tick of the timer. Hmm—
toast?
“Yes. I am eager to talk,” I murmur, distracted. An assortment of exotic, spicy
aromas fills the kitchen. What is he doing? I shift in my chair.
“Be still, Anastasia,” he murmurs, and h
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