Fifty Shades Trilogy 03 - Fifty Shades Freed

Manolos.
    “Better?” he asks, amused.
    I nod.
    “I had delightful visions of these around my ears,” he murmurs, staring down wistfully at my shoes. He shakes his head and, taking my hand once more, leads me through the darkened house, and up the stairs to our bedroom.
    “You’re wrecked, aren’t you?” he says softly, staring down at me.
    I nod. He starts to unbuckle the belt on my trench coat.
    “I’ll do it,” I mutter, making a halfhearted attempt to brush him off.
    “Let me.”
    I sigh. I had no idea I was this tired.
    “It’s the altitude. You’re not used to it. And the drinking, of course.” He smirks, divests me of my coat, and throws it on one of the bedroom chairs. Taking my hand, he leads me into the bathroom. Why are we going in here?
    “Sit,” he says.
    I sit on the chair and close my eyes. I hear him as he messes around with bottles on the vanity unit. I am too tired to open my eyes to find out what he’s doing. A moment later he tips my head back, and I open my eyes in surprise.
    “Eyes closed,” Christian says . Holy crap , he’s holding a cotton ball! Gently, he wipes it over my right eye. I sit stunned as he methodically removes my makeup.
    “Ah. There’s the woman I married,” he says after a few wipes.
    “You don’t like makeup?”
    “I like it well enough, but I prefer what’s beneath it.” He kisses my forehead. “Here. Take these.” He puts some Advil into my palm and hands me a glass of water.
    I look and pout.
    “Take them,” he orders.
    I roll my eyes, but do as I’m told.
    “Good. Do you need a private moment?” he asks sardonically.
    I snort. “So coy, Mr. Grey. Yes, I need to pee.”
    He laughs. “You expect me to leave?”
    I giggle. “You want to stay?”
    He cocks his head to one side, his expression amused.
    “You are one kinky son of a bitch. Out. I don’t want you to watch me pee. That’s a step too far.” I stand and wave him out of the bathroom.
    When I emerge from the bathroom, he’s changed into his pajama bottoms. Hmm . . . Christian in PJs. Mesmerized, I gaze at his abdomen, his muscles, his happy trail. It’s distracting. He strides over to me.
    “Enjoying the view?” he asks wryly.
    “Always.”
    “I think you’re slightly drunk, Mrs. Grey.”
    “I think, for once, I have to agree with you, Mr. Grey.”
    “Let me help you out of what little there is of this dress. It really should come with a health warning.” He turns me around and undoes the single button at the neck.
    “You were so mad,” I murmur.
    “Yes. I was.”
    “At me?”
    “No. Not at you.” He kisses my shoulder. “For once.”
    I smile. Not mad at me. This is progress. “Makes a nice change.”
    “Yes. It does.” He kisses my other shoulder then tugs my dress down over my backside and onto the floor. He removes my panties at the same time, leaving me naked. Reaching up, he takes my hand.
    “Step,” he commands, and I step out of the dress, holding his hand for balance.
    He stands and tosses my dress and panties onto the chair with Mia’s trench coat.
    “Arms up,” he says softly. He slips his T-shirt over me and pulls it down, covering me up. I am ready for bed.
    He pulls me into his arms and kisses me, my minty breath mingling with his.
    “As much as I’d love to bury myself in you, Mrs. Grey—you’ve had too much to drink, you’re at nearly eight thousand feet, and you didn’t sleep well last night. Come. Get into bed.” He pulls back the duvet and I climb in. He covers me up and kisses my forehead once more.
    “Close your eyes. When I come back to bed, I’ll expect you to be asleep.” It’s a threat, a command . . . it’s Christian.
    “Don’t go,” I plead.
    “I have some calls to make, Ana.”
    “It’s Saturday. It’s late. Please.”
    He runs his hands through his hair. “Ana, if I come to bed with you now, you won’t get any rest. Sleep.” He’s adamant. I close my eyes and his lips brush my forehead once more.
    “Goodnight, baby,” he breathes.
    Images of the day flash through my mind . . . Christian hauling me over his shoulder in the plane. His anxiety as to whether or not I’d like the house. Making love this afternoon. The bath. His reaction to my dress. Decking Blond Giant—my palm tingles at the memory. And then Christian putting me to bed.
    Who would have thought? I grin widely, the word progress running around my brain as I drift.

I am too warm. Christian warm. His head is on my shoulder,