Fifty Shades Trilogy 02 - Fifty Shades Darker

agony. No ! He cries out again, and the eerie, devastating sound lances through me anew.
    Shit—a nightmare!
    “Christian!” I lean over him, grab his shoulders, and shake him awake. He opens his eyes, and they are wild and vacant, scanning quickly round the empty room before coming back to rest on me.
    “You left, you left, you must have left,” he mumbles—his wide-eyed stare becoming accusatory—and he looks so lost, it wrenches at my heart. Poor Fifty.
    “I’m here.” I sit down on the bed beside him. “I’m here,” I murmur softly in an effort to reassure him. I reach out to place my palm on the side of his face, trying to soothe him.
    “You were gone,” he whispers rapidly. His eyes are still wild and frightened, but he seems to be calming.
    “I went to get a drink. I was thirsty.”
    He closes his eyes and rubs his face. When he opens them again, he looks so desolate.
    “You’re here. Oh, thank God.” He reaches for me, and grabbing me tightly, he pulls me down on the bed beside him.
    “I just went for a drink,” I murmur.  
    Oh, the intensity of his fear . . . I can feel it . His T-shirt is drenched in sweat, and his heartbeat is pounding as he hugs me close. He’s gazing at me as if reassuring himself that I am really here. I gently stroke his hair and then his cheek.
    “Christian, please. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” I say soothingly.
    “Oh, Ana,” he breathes. He grasps my chin to hold me in place, and then his mouth is on mine. Desire sweeps through him, and unbidden my body responds—it’s so tied and attuned to him. His lips are at my ear, my throat, then back at my mouth, his teeth gently pulling at my lower lip, his hand traveling up my body from my hip to my breast, dragging my T-shirt up. Caressing me, feeling his way through the dips and shallows of my skin, he elicits the same familiar reaction, his touch sending shivers through me. I moan as his hand cups my breast and his fingers tighten over my nipple.
    “I want you,” he murmurs.
    “I’m here for you. Only you, Christian.”
    He groans and kisses me once more, passionately, with a fervor and desperation I’ve not felt from him before. Grabbing the hem of his T-shirt, I tug and he helps me pull it off over his head. Kneeling between my legs, he hastily pulls me upright and drags my T-shirt off.  
    His eyes are serious, wanting, full of dark secrets—exposed. He folds his hands around my face and kisses me, and we sink down into the bed once more, his thigh between both of mine so that he’s half-lying on top of me. His erection is rigid against my hip through his boxer briefs. He wants me, but his words from earlier choose this moment to come back and haunt me, what he said about his mother. And it’s like a bucket of cold water on my libido. Fuck. I can’t do this. Not now.
    “Christian . . . Stop. I can’t do this,” I whisper urgently against his mouth, my hands pushing on his upper arms.
    “What? What’s wrong?” he murmurs and starts kissing my neck, running the tip of his tongue lightly down my throat. Oh . . .
    “No, please. I can’t do this, not now. I need some time, please.”
    “Oh, Ana, don’t overthink this,” he whispers as he nips my earlobe.
    “Ah!” I gasp, feeling it in my groin, and my body bows, betraying me. This is so confusing.
    “I am just the same, Ana. I love you and I need you. Touch me. Please.” He rubs his nose against mine, and his quiet heartfelt plea moves me and I melt.
    Touch him. Touch him while we make love. Oh my.
    He rears up over me, gazing down, and in the half-light from the dimmed bedside light, I can tell that he’s waiting, waiting for my decision, and he’s caught in my spell.
    I reach up and tentatively place my hand on the soft patch of hair over his sternum. He gasps and scrunches his eyes closed as if in pain, but I don’t take my hand away this time. I move it up to his shoulders, feeling the tremor run through him. He groans, and I pull him down to me and place both my hands on his back, where I’ve never touched him before, on his shoulder blades, holding him to me. His strangled moan arouses me like nothing else.
    He buries his head in my neck, kissing and sucking and biting me, before trailing his nose up my chin and kissing me, his tongue possessing my mouth, his hands moving over my body once more. His lips move down . . . down . . . down to my breasts, worshipping as they go, and my hands stay on his