ome to bed with you now, you
won’t get any rest. Sleep.” He’s adamant. I close my eyes and his lips brush
my forehead once more.
“Goodnight, baby,” he breathes.
Images of the day flash through my mind . . . Christian hauling me over his
shoulder in the plane. His anxiety as to whether or not I’d like the house.
Making love this afternoon. The bath. His reaction to my dress. Decking
Blond Giant—my palm tingles at the memory. And then Christian putting me
to bed.
Who would ha一ve thought? I grin widely, the word progress running around my
brain as I drift.
288 | P a g e
E L JAMES