feet. Reaching down, I caress his head,
running my fingers through his wet hair. He stands, and his fingers trace the
outline of the bruise on my ribs where Jack kicked me.
“Oh, baby,” he groans, his voice filled with anguish, his eyes dark with fury.
“I’m okay.” I pull his head down to mine and kiss his lips. He’s hesitant to
reciprocate, but as my tongue meets his, his body stirs against me.
“No,” he whispers against my lips, and he pulls back. “Let’s get you clean.”
His face is serious. Damn . . . He means it. I pout, and the atmosphere
between us lightens in an instant. He grins and kisses me briefly.
“Clean,” he emphasizes. “Not dirty.”
“I like dirty.”
“Me, too, Mrs. Grey. But not now, not here.” He grabs the shampoo, and
before I can persuade him otherwise, he’s washing my hair.
I love clean, too. I feel refreshed and reinvigorated, and I don’t know if it’s
from the shower, the crying, or my decision to stop hassling Christian about
everything. He wraps me in a large towel and drapes one around his hips
while I gingerly dry my hair. My head aches, but it’s a dull persistent pain that
is more than manageable. I ha一ve some painkillers from Dr. Singh, but she’s
asked me not to use them unless I ha一ve to.
454 | P a g e
E L JAMES
As I dry my hair, I think about Elizabeth.
“I still don’t understand why Elizabeth was involved with Jack.”
“I do,” Christian mutters darkly.
This is news. I frown up at him, but I’m distracted. He’s drying his hair with a
towel, his chest and shoulders still wet with beads of water that glint beneath
the halogens. He pauses and smirks.
“Enjoying the view?”
“How do you know?” I ask, trying to ignore that I’ve been caught staring at my
own husband.
“That you’re enjoying the view?” he teases.
“No,” I scold. “About Elizabeth.”
“Detective Clark hinted at it.”
I give him my tell-me-more expression, and another nagging memory from
when I was unconscious resurfaces. Clark was in my room. I wish I could
remember what he said.
“Hyde had videos. Vid
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