pen, Christian
picks me up like a child and carries me into the foyer. I wrap my arms around
his neck and cling to him, keening quietly.
He carries me through to our bathroom and gently settles me on the chair.
“Bath?” he asks.
I shake my head. No . . . no . . . not like Leila.
I shake my head. No . . . no . . . not like Leila.
“Shower?” His voice is choked with concern.
Through my tears, I nod. I want to wash away the grime of the last few days,
wash away the memory of Jack’s attack. “You gold digging whore.” I sob into
my hands as the sound of the water cascading from the shower echoes off
the walls.
“Hey,” Christian croons. Kneeling in front of me, he pulls my hands away from
my tear-stained cheeks and cups my face in his hands. I gaze at him,
blinking away my tears.
“You’re safe. You both are,” he whispers.
Blip and me. My eyes brim with tears again.
“Stop, now. I can’t bear it when you cry.” His voice is hoarse. His thumbs
wipe my cheeks, but my tears still flow.
“I’m sorry, Christian. Just sorry for everything. For making you 452 | P a g e
E L JAMES
worry, for risking everything—for the things I said.”
“Hush, baby, please.” He kisses my forehead. “I’m sorry. It takes two to
tango, Ana.” He gives me a crooked smile. “Well, that’s what my mom
always says. I said things and did things I’m not proud of.”
His gray eyes are bleak but penitent. “Let’s get you undressed.” His voice is
soft. I wipe my nose with the back of my hand, and he kisses my forehead
once more.
Briskly he strips me, taking particular care as he pulls my T-shirt over my
head. But my head is not too sore. Leading me to the shower, he peels off
his own clothing in record time before stepping into the welcome hot water
with me. He pulls me into his arms and holds me, holds me for the longest
time, as the water gushes over us, soothing us both.
He lets me cry into his chest. Occasionally he kisses my hair, but he doesn’t
let go, he just rocks me gently beneath the warm water. To feel his skin
against
本章未完，点击下一页继续阅读。