pinion.”
“You miss home?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
“You ha一ven’t stopped smiling,” Christian says as I pull up outside the
Heathman.
“I’m very relieved. And happy.”
Christian grins. “Good.”
The light is fading, and I shiver as I step out into the cool, crisp evening and
hand my key to the parking valet. He’s eyeing my car with lust, and I don’t
blame him. Christian puts his arm around me.
“Shall we celebrate?” he asks as we enter the foyer.
“Celebrate?”
“Your dad.”
I giggle. “Oh, him.”
“I’ve missed that sound.” Christian kisses my hair.
“Can we just eat in our room? You know, ha一ve a quiet night in?”
“Sure. Come.” Taking my hand, he leads me to the elevators.
“That was delicious,” I murmur with satisfaction as I push my plate away,
replete for the first time in ages. “They sure know how to make a fine tarte
Tatin here.”
I am freshly bathed and wearing only Christian’s T-shirt and my panties. In the
background, Christian’s iPod is on shuffle and Dido is 364 | P a g e
E L JAMES
warbling on about white flags.
Christian eyes me speculatively. His hair is still damp from our bath, and he’s
wearing just his black T-shirt and jeans. “That’s the most I’ve seen you eat the
entire time we’ve been here,” he says.
“I was hungry.”
He leans back in his chair with a self-satisfied smirk and takes a sip of his
white wine. “What would you like to do now?” His voice is soft.
“What do you want to do?”
He raises an eyebrow, amused. “What I always want to do.”
“And that is?”
“Mrs. Grey, don’t be coy.”
Reaching across the dining table, I grasp his hand, turn it over, and skim my
index finger over his palm. “I’d like you to touch me with this.” I run my finger
up his index finger.
He shifts in his chair. “Just that?” His eyes darken and heat at once.
“Maybe this?” I run my finger up his middle finger and back to his palm. “And
this.” My nail traces his ring finger. “Definitely this.” My finger stops at his
wedding ring. “This is very sexy.”
“Is it, now?”
“It sure is. It says this man is mine.” And
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