k.
He’s been attentive and loving and chatty . . . and hands-off since I arrived
home. I scowl. I am going to ha一ve to do something about this. My head
doesn’t hurt, the pain around my ribs has eased—though, admittedly,
laughing has to be undertaken with caution—but I’m frustrated. I think this is
the longest I’ve gone without sex since . . . well, since the first time. I think
we’ve both recovered our equilibrium. Christian is much 476 | P a g e
E L JAMES
more relaxed; his long bedtime story seems to ha一ve laid some ghosts to
rest, for him and for me. We’ll see.
I shower quickly, and once I’m dry, I browse carefully through my clothes. I
want something sexy. Something that might galvanize Christian into action.
Who would ha一ve thought such an insatiable man could actually exercise so
much self-control? I don’t really want to dwell on how Christian learned such
discipline over his body. We ha一ven’t spoken of the Bitch Troll once since his
confessional. I hope we never do. To me she’s dead and buried.
I choose an almost indecently short black skirt and a white silk blouse with a
frill. I slide on thigh-highs with lacy tops and my black Louboutin pumps. A
little mascara and lip gloss for a natural look, and after a ferocious brushing, I
lea一ve my hair loose. Yes. This should do it. Christian is eating at the
breakfast bar. His forkful of omelet stops in midair when he sees me. He
frowns.
“Good morning, Mrs. Grey. Going somewhere?”
“Work.” I smile sweetly.
“I don’t think so.” Christian snorts with amused derision. “Dr. Singh said a
week off.”
“Christian, I am not spending the day lounging in bed on my own. So I may as
well go to work. Good morning, Gail.”
“Mrs. Grey.” Mrs. Jones tries to hide a smile. “Would you like some
breakfast?”
“Please.”
“Granola?”
“I’d prefer scrambled eggs with whole wheat toast.”
Mrs. Jones beams and Christian registers his surprise.
“Very good, Mrs. Grey,” Mrs. Jones says.
“Ana, you are not going to work.”
“But—”
“No. It’s simple. Don’t argue
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