ng his words.
“You should always be in satin or silk.” He runs his hands up and down my
hips then jerks me forward, pressing his mouth against my belly.
“And we ha一ve an invader in here.”
I stop breathing. Holy cow. He’s talking to Little Blip.
“You’re going to keep me awake, aren’t you?” he says to my belly. 392 | P a
g e
E L JAMES
Oh my. Christian looks up at me through his long dark lashes, gray eyes
blurred and cloudy. My heart constricts.
“You’ll choose him over me,” he says sadly.
“Christian, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Don’t be ridiculous—I
am not choosing anyone over anyone. And he might be a she.”
He frowns. “A she . . . Oh God.” He flops back down on to the bed and covers
his eyes with his arm. I ha一ve managed to loosen his tie. I bend, undo one
shoelace, and yank off his shoe and sock. I make a start on the other and
succeed in no time. When I stand, I see why I’ve met no resistance—
Christian has passed out completely. He’s sound asleep and snoring softly.
I stare at him. He’s so goddamned beautiful, even drunk and snoring. His
sculptured lips parted, one arm above his head, ruffling his messy hair, his
face relaxed. He looks young—but then he is young; my young, stressed out,
drunk, unhappy husband. The thought lies hea一vy in my heart. Well, at least
he’s home. I wonder where he went. I’m not sure I ha一ve the energy or the
strength to move him or undress him any further. He’s on top of the duvet,
too. Heading back into the great room, I pick up the duvet I was using and
bring it back to our bedroom.
He’s still fast asleep, still wearing his tie and his belt. I climb onto the bed
beside him, loosen his tie further then remove it and gently undo the top
button of his shirt. He mumbles something incoherent in his sleep, but he
doesn’t wake. Carefully, I unbuckle his belt and pull it through the belt loops,
and after some difficulty it’s off. His shirt has come dislodged from his pants,
revealing a hint of his happy trail. I can’t resist. I be
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