Fifty Shades Trilogy 03 - Fifty Shades Freed

a sudden. Christian seems to sag with relief. Pulling me into his arms, he holds me tightly, his nose in my hair.
    “I know. I’m sorry, too. Let’s relax and enjoy ourselves, okay? You can stay here and read, watch god-awful TV, shop, go hiking—fishing even. Whatever you want to do. And forget what I said about Elliot. That was indiscreet of me.”
    “Goes some way to explain why he’s always teasing you,” I murmur, nuzzling his chest.
    “He really has no idea about my past. I told you, my family assumed I was gay. Celibate, but gay.”
    I giggle and begin to relax in his arms. “I thought you were celibate. How wrong I was.” I wrap my arms around him, marveling at the ridiculousness of Christian being gay.
    “Mrs. Grey, are you smirking at me?”
    “Maybe a little.” I acquiesce. “You know, what I don’t understand is why you have this place?”
    “What do you mean?” He kisses my hair.
    “You have the boat, which I get, you have the place in New York for business—but why here? It’s not like you shared it with anyone.”
    Christian stills and is silent for several beats. “I was waiting for you,” he says softly, his eyes dark gray and luminous.
    “That’s . . . that’s such a lovely thing to say.”
    “It’s true. I didn’t know it at the time.” He smiles his shy smile.
    “I’m glad you waited.”
    “You are worth waiting for, Mrs. Grey.” He tips my chin up with his finger, leans down, and kisses me tenderly.
    “So are you.” I smile. “Though I feel I like I cheated. I didn’t have to wait long for you at all.”
    He grins. “Am I that much of a prize?”
    “Christian, you are the state lottery, the cure for cancer, and the three wishes from Aladdin’s lamp all rolled into one.”
    He raises a brow.
    “When will you realize this?” I scold him. “You were a very eligible bachelor. And I don’t mean all this.” I wave dismissingly at our plush surroundings. “I mean in here.” I place my hand over his heart, and his eyes widen. My confident, sexy husband has gone, and I’m facing my lost boy. “Believe me, Christian, please,” I whisper and clasp his face, pulling his lips to mine. He groans, and I don’t know if it’s hearing what I’ve said or his usual primal response. I claim him, my lips moving against his, my tongue invading his mouth.
    When we’re both breathless, he pulls away, eyeing me doubtfully.
    “When are you going to get it through your exceptionally thick skull that I love you?” I ask, exasperated.
    He swallows. “One day,” he says.
    This is progress. I smile and am rewarded with his answering shy smile.
    “Come. Let’s have some lunch—the others will be wondering where we are. We can discuss what we all want to do.”
    “Oh no!” Kate says suddenly.
    All eyes turn to her.
    “Look,” she says, pointing to the picture window. Outside, rain has started pouring down. We are sitting around the dark wood table in the kitchen having consumed an Italian feast of a mixed antipasto, prepared by Mrs. Bentley, and a bottle or two of Frascati. I’m replete and a little buzzed from the alcohol.
    “There goes our hike,” Elliot mutters, sounding vaguely relieved. Kate scowls at him. Something is definitely up with them. They have been relaxed with all of us but not with each other.
    “We could go into town,” Mia pipes up. Ethan smirks at her.
    “Perfect weather for fishing,” Christian suggests.
    “I’ll go fish,” Ethan says.
    “Let’s split up.” Mia claps her hands. “Girls, shopping—boys, outdoor boring stuff.”
    I glance at Kate, who regards Mia indulgently. Fishing or shopping? Jeez, what a choice.
    “Ana, what do you want to do?” Christian asks.
    “I don’t mind,” I lie.
    Kate catches my eye and mouths “shopping.” Perhaps she wants to talk.
    “But I’m more than happy to go shopping.” I smile wryly at Kate and Mia. Christian smirks. He knows I hate shopping.
    “I can stay here with you, if you’d like,” he murmurs, and something dark unfurls in my belly at his tone.
    “No, you go fish,” I answer. Christian needs boy time.
    “Sounds like a plan,” Kate says, rising from the table.
    “Taylor will accompany you,” Christian says, and it’s a given—not up for discussion.
    “We don’t need babysitting,” Kate retorts bluntly, direct as ever.
    I put my hand on Kate’s arm. “Kate, Taylor should come.”
    She frowns, then shrugs, and for once in her life holds her tongue.
    I smile