Fifty Shades Trilogy 02 - Fifty Shades Darker

that? He raises his head and pins me with his intense gray gaze.
    “You’re not like her. Don’t ever think that. Please.”
    I blink back at him. It’s very reassuring to hear. He puts his head on my chest again, and I think he’s finished, but he surprises me by continuing.
    “Sometimes in the dreams she’s just lying on the floor. And I think she’s asleep. But she doesn’t move. She never moves. And I’m hungry. Really hungry.”
    Oh fuck .
    “There’s a loud noise and he’s back, and he hits me so hard, cursing the crack whore. His first reaction was always to use his fists or his belt.”
    “Is that why you don’t like to be touched?”
    He closes his eyes and hugs me tighter. “That’s complicated,” he murmurs. He nuzzles me between my breasts, inhaling deeply, trying to distract me.
    “Tell me,” I prompt.
    He sighs. “She didn’t love me. I didn’t love me. The only touch I knew was . . . harsh. It stemmed from there. Flynn explains it better than I can.”
    “Can I see Flynn?”
    He raises his head to look at me. “Fifty Shades rubbing off on you?”
    “And then some. I like how it’s rubbing off at the moment.” I wriggle provocatively underneath him and he smiles.
    “Yes, Miss Steele, I like that, too.” He leans up and kisses me. He gazes at me for a moment.
    “You are so precious to me, Ana. I was serious about marrying you. We can get to know each other then. I can look after you. You can look after me. We can have kids if you want. I will lay my world at your feet, Anastasia. I want you, body and soul, forever. Please think about it.”
    “I will think about it, Christian. I will,” I reassure him, reeling once more. Kids? Jeez . “I’d really like to talk to Dr. Flynn, though, if you don’t mind.”
    “Anything for you, baby. Anything. When would you like to see him?”
    “Sooner rather than later.”
    “Okay. I’ll make the arrangements in the morning.” He glances at the clock. “It’s late. We should sleep.” He shifts to switch off his bedside light and pulls me against him.
    I glance at the alarm clock. Crap, it’s three forty-five.
    He curls his arms around me, his front to my back, and nuzzles my neck. “I love you, Ana Steele, and I want you by my side, always,” he murmurs as he kisses my neck. “Now go to sleep.”
    I close my eyes.
    Reluctantly, I open my heavy eyelids and bright light fills the room. I groan. I feel cloudy, disconnected from my leaden limbs, and Christian is wrapped around me like ivy. I’m too warm as per usual. Surely it’s just five in the morning. The alarm has not gone off yet. I stretch out to free myself from his heat, turning in his arms, and he mumbles something unintelligible in his sleep. I glance at the clock. Eight forty-five.
    Shit, I’m going to be late. Fuck . I scramble out of bed and dash to the bathroom. I am showered and out within four minutes.
    Christian sits up in bed watching me with ill-concealed amusement coupled with wariness as I continue to dry myself while gathering my clothes. Perhaps he’s waiting for me to react to yesterday’s revelations. Right now, I just don’t have time.  
    I check my clothes—black slacks, black shirt—all a bit Mrs. R, but I don’t have a second to change my mind. I hastily don black bra and panties, conscious that he’s watching my every move. It’s . . . unnerving. The panties and bra will do.
    “You look good,” Christian purrs from the bed. “You can call in sick, you know.” He gives me his devastating, lopsided, one hundred and fifty percent panty-busting smile. Oh, he’s so tempting. My inner goddess pouts provocatively at me.
    “No, Christian, I can’t. I am not a megalomaniac CEO with a beautiful smile who can come and go as he pleases.”
    “I like to come as I please.” He smirks and cranks his glorious smile up another notch so it’s in full HD IMAX .
    “Christian!” I scold. I throw my towel at him and he laughs.
    “Beautiful smile, huh?”
    “Yes. You know the effect you have on me.” I put on my watch.
    “Do I?” he blinks innocently.
    “Yes, you do. The same effect you have on all women. Gets really tiresome watching them all swoon.”
    “Does it?” He cocks his eyebrow at me, more amused.
    “Don’t play the innocent, Mr. Grey, it really doesn’t suit you,” I mutter distractedly as I scoop my hair into a ponytail and pull on my black high-heeled shoes. There, that will do.  
    When I bend to kiss him good-bye,