enly, it’s my lifetime ambition to make him realize this. It’s painstakingly
obvious that he cares. Why does he deny it? It’s like his feelings for his birth
mother. Oh shit—of course. His feelings for Leila and his other submissives
are tangled up with his feelings for his mother . I like to whip little brownhaired
girls like you because you all look like the crack whore. No wonder
he’s so mad. I sigh and shake my head. Paging Dr. Flynn, please. How can
he not see this?
My heart swells for him momentarily. My lost boy . . . Why is it so hard for him
to get back in touch with the humanity, the compassion he showed Leila
when she had her breakdown?
He glares at me, his eyes glittering with anger. “This discussion is over. Let’s
go home.”
I glance at my watch. It’s four twenty-three. I ha一ve work to do. “It’s too early,” I
mutter.
“Home,” he insists.
“Christian.” My voice is weary. “I’m tired of ha一ving the same argument with
you.”
He frowns as if he doesn’t understand.
“You know,” I elucidate, “I do something you don’t like, and you think of some
way to get back at me. Usually involving some of your kinky fuckery, which is
either mind-blowing or cruel.” I shrug, resigned. This is exhausting and
confusing.
“Mind-blowing?” he asks.
What?
“Usually, yes.”
“What was mind-blowing?” he asks, his eyes now shimmering with amused
sensual curiosity. And I know he’s trying to distract me. Crap! I do not want to
discuss this in SIP’s meeting room. My subconscious examines her finely
manicured nails with disdain. Shouldn’t ha一ve brought the subject up, then.
“You know.” I blush, irritated with both him and myself.
“I can guess,” he whispers.
320 | P a g e
E L JAMES
Holy crap. I’m trying to castigate him and he’s confounding me.
“Christian, I—”
“I like to please you.”
He delicately traces his thumb over my bottom lip.
“You do,” I acknowledge, my voice a whisper.
“I know,” he says softly. He leans forward and whispers in my ear,
“It’s the one thing I do know.” Oh, he smells good. He
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