Fifty Shades Trilogy 03 - Fifty Shades Freed

a buzzer on the bedside.
    “Please,” I whisper. Why do I ache everywhere? “I need to get up.” Jeez, I feel so weak.
    “Will you do as you’re told for once?” he snaps, exasperated.
    “I really need to pee,” I rasp. My throat and mouth are so dry.
    A nurse bustles into the room. She must be in her fifties, though her hair is jet black. She wears overlarge pearl earrings.
    “Mrs. Grey welcome back. I’ll let Dr. Bartley know you’re awake.” She makes her way to my bedside. “My name is Nora. Do you know where you are?”
    “Yes. Hospital. I need to pee.”
    “You have a catheter.”
    What? Oh this is gross . I glance anxiously at Christian then back to the nurse.
    “Please. I want to get up.”
    “Mrs. Grey.”
    “Please.”
    “Ana,” Christian warns. I struggle to sit up once more.
    “Let me remove your catheter. Mr. Grey I am sure Mrs. Grey would like some privacy.” She looks pointedly at Christian, dismissing him.
    “I’m not going anywhere.” He glares back at her.
    “Christian, please,” I whisper, reaching out and grasping his hand. Briefly he squeezes my hand then gives me an exasperated look. “Please,” I beg.
    “Fine!” he snaps and runs his hand through his hair. “You have two minutes,” he hisses at the nurse, and he leans down and kisses my forehead before turning on his heel and leaving the room.
    Christian bursts back into the room two minutes later as Nurse Nora is helping me out of bed. I’m dressed in a thin hospital gown. I don’t remember being stripped.
    “Let me take her,” he says and strides toward us.
    “Mr. Grey, I can manage.” Nurse Nora scolds him.
    He gives her a hostile glare. “Dammit, she’s my wife. I’ll take her.” He says through gritted teeth as he moves the IV stand out of his way.
    “Mr. Grey!” she protests.
    He ignores her, leans down, and gently lifts me off the bed. I wrap my arms around his neck, my body complaining. Jeez, I ache everywhere. He carries me to the en suite bathroom while Nurse Nora follows us, pushing the IV stand.
    “Mrs. Grey, you’re too light,” he mutters disapprovingly as he sets me gently on my feet. I sway. My legs feel like Jell-O. Christian flips the light switch, and I’m momentarily blinded by the fluorescent lamp that pings and flickers to life.
    “Sit before you fall,” he snaps, still holding me.
    Tentatively, I sit down on the toilet.
    “Go.” I try to wave him out.
    “No. Just pee, Ana.”
    Could this be any more embarrassing? “I can’t, not with you here.”
    “You might fall.”
    “Mr. Grey!”
    We both ignore the nurse.
    “Please,” I beg.
    He raises his hands in defeat. “I’ll stand outside, door open.” He takes a couple of paces back until he’s standing just outside the door with the angry nurse.
    “Turn around, please,” I ask. Why do I feel so ridiculously shy with this man? He rolls his eyes but complies. And when his back is turned . . . I let go, and savor the relief.
    I take stock of my injuries. My head hurts, my chest aches where Jack kicked me, and my side throbs where he pushed me to the ground. Plus I’m thirsty and hungry. Jeez, really hungry . I finish up, thankful that I don’t have to get up to wash my hands, as the sink is close. I just don’t have the strength to stand.
    “I’m done,” I call, drying my hands on the towel.
    Christian turns and comes back in and before I know it, I’m in his arms again. I have missed these arms. He pauses and buries his nose in my hair.
    “Oh, I’ve missed you, Mrs. Grey,” he whispers, and with Nurse Nora fussing behind him, he lays me back on the bed and releases me—reluctantly, I think.
    “If you’ve quite finished, Mr. Grey, I’d like to check over Mrs. Grey now.” Nurse Nora is mad.
    He stands back. “She’s all yours,” he says in a more measured tone.
    She huffs at him then turns her attention back to me.
    Exasperating isn’t he?
    “How do you feel?” she asks me her voice laced with sympathy and a trace of irritation, which I suspect is for Christian’s benefit.
    “Sore and thirsty. Very thirsty,” I whisper.
    “I’ll fetch you some water once I’ve checked your vitals and Dr. Bartley has examined you.”
    She reaches for a blood pressure cuff and wraps it around my upper arm. I glance anxiously up at Christian. He looks dreadful—haunted, even—as if he hasn’t slept for days. His hair is a mess, he hasn’t shaved for a long time, and his shirt is badly wrinkled. I