Fifty Shades Trilogy 03 - Fifty Shades Freed

facing him.
    “I fucked him over.”
    Oh! “Um . . . that seems a little impulsive,” I murmur.
    “I’m an in-the-moment kind of guy.”
    “I’m aware of that.”
    His eyes narrow and his lips thin. “I’ve had this plan in my back pocket for a while,” he says dryly.
    I frown. “Oh?”
    He pauses, seeming to weigh something in his mind, then takes a deep breath.
    “Several years back, when I was twenty-one, Linc beat his wife to a pulp. He broke her jaw, her left arm, and four of her ribs because she was fucking me.” His eyes harden. “And now I learn he posted bail for a man who tried to kill me, kidnapped my sister, and fractured my wife’s skull. I’ve had enough. I think it’s payback time.”
    I blanch. Holy shit. “Fair point well made, Mr. Grey,” I whisper.
    “Ana, this is what I do. I’m not usually motivated by revenge, but I cannot let him get away with this. What he did to Elena . . . well, she should have pressed charges, but she didn’t. That was her prerogative.
    “But he’s seriously crossed the line with Hyde. Linc’s made this personal by going after my family. I’m going to crush him, break up his company right under his nose, and sell the pieces to the highest bidder. I am going to bankrupt him.”
    Oh . . .
    “Besides.” Christian smirks. “We’ll make good money out of the deal.”
    I stare into blazing gray eyes that soften suddenly.
    “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he whispers.
    “You didn’t,” I lie.
    He arches a brow, amused.
    “You just took me by surprise,” I whisper, then swallow. Christian is really quite scary sometimes.
    He brushes his lips against mine. “I will do anything to keep you safe. Keep my family safe. Keep this little one safe,” he murmurs and splays his hand out over my belly in a gentle caress.
    Oh . . . I stop breathing. Christian gazes down at me, his eyes darkening. His lips part as he inhales and, in a deliberate move, the tips of his fingers brush against my sex.
    Holy shit. Desire detonates like an incendiary device igniting my bloodstream. I grasp his head, my fingers weaving into his hair, and tug hard so my lips find his. He gasps, surprised by my assault, giving my tongue free passage into his mouth. He groans and kisses me back, his lips and tongue hungry for mine, and for a moment we consume each other, lost in tongues and lips and breaths and sweet, sweet sensation as we rediscover each other.
    Oh, I want this man. It’s been too long. I want him here, now, in the open air, in our meadow.
    “Ana,” he breathes, entranced, and his hand skims over my backside to the hem of my skirt. I scramble to unbutton his shirt, all fingers and thumbs.
    “Whoa, Ana—stop.” He pulls back, his jaw clenched, and grabs my hands.
    “No.” My teeth clamp gently around his lower lip and I tug. “No,” I murmur again, gazing at him. I release him. “I want you.”
    He inhales sharply. He’s torn, his indecision writ large in luminous gray eyes.
    “Please, I need you.” Every pore of my being is begging. This is what we do.
    He groans in defeat as his mouth finds mine, molding my lips to his. One hand cradles my head while the other skims down my body to my waist, and he eases me onto my back and stretches out beside me, never breaking contact with my mouth.
    He pulls back, hovering over me and gazing down. “You are so beautiful, Mrs. Grey.”
    I caress his lovely face. “So are you, Mr. Grey. Inside and out.”
    He frowns, and my fingers trace the furrow in his brow.
    “Don’t frown. You are to me, even when you’re angry,” I whisper.
    He groans once more, and his mouth captures mine, pushing me into the soft grass beneath the blanket.
    “I’ve missed you,” he whispers, and his teeth graze my jaw. My heart soars.
    “I’ve missed you, too. Oh, Christian.” I fist one hand in his hair and clutch his shoulder with the other.
    His lips move to my throat, leaving tender kisses in their wake, and his fingers follow, deftly undoing each button of my blouse. Tugging my blouse apart, he kisses the soft swell of my breasts. He murmurs appreciatively, low in his throat, and the sound echoes through my body to my deep dark places.
    “Your body’s changing,” he whispers. His thumb teases my nipple until it’s erect and straining against my bra. “I like,” he adds. I watch his tongue taste and trace the line between my bra and my breast, tantalizing and teasing me. Taking my bra cup delicately