Fifty Shades Trilogy 03 - Fifty Shades Freed

have her covered here. Okay?”
    He kisses me behind my ear and scrapes his teeth around the edge to the lobe.
    “Whatever you say, Mrs. Grey.” Then he bites me. I yelp.
    “I enjoyed last night,” he says. “We should do that more often.”
    “Me, too.”
    “And we could, if you stopped working . . .”
    I roll my eyes and he tightens his arms around me and grins into my neck.
    “Are you rolling your eyes at me Mrs. Grey?” His threat is implicit but sensual, making me squirm, but as we’re in the middle of the meadow with the kids nearby, I ignore his invitation.
    “Grey Publishing has an author on the New York Times Best Sellers—Boyce Fox’s sales are phenomenal, the e-book side of our business has exploded, and I finally have the team I want around me.”
    “And you’re making money in these difficult times,” Christian adds, his voice reflecting his pride. “But . . . I like you barefoot and pregnant and in my kitchen.”
    I lean back so I can see his face. He gazes down at me, eyes bright.
    “I like that, too,” I murmur, and he kisses me, his hands still spread across my bump.
    Seeing he’s in a good mood, I decide to broach a delicate subject. “Have you thought any more about my suggestion?”
    He stills. “Ana, the answer is no.”
    “But Ella is such a lovely name.”
    “I am not naming my daughter after my mother. No. End of discussion.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes.” Grasping my chin, he gazes earnestly down at me, radiating exasperation. “Ana, give it up. I don’t want my daughter tainted by my past.”
    “Okay. I’m sorry.” Shit . . . I don’t want to anger him.
    “That’s better. Stop trying to fix it,” he mutters. “You got me to admit I loved her, you dragged me to her grave. Enough.”
    Oh no. I twist in his lap to straddle him and grasp his head in my hands.
    “I’m sorry. Really. Don’t be angry with me, please.” I kiss him, then kiss the corner of his mouth. After a beat, he points to the other corner, and I smile and kiss it. He points to his nose. I kiss that. He grins and places his hands on my backside.
    “Oh, Mrs. Grey—what am I going to do with you?”
    “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” I murmur. He grins and, twisting suddenly, he pushes me down onto the blanket.
    “How about I do it now?” he whispers with a salacious smile.
    “Christian!” I gasp.
    Suddenly there’s a high-pitched cry from Ted. Christian leaps to his feet with a panther’s easy grace and races toward the source of the sound. I follow at a more leisurely pace. Secretly, I’m not as concerned as Christian—it was not a cry that would make me take the stairs two at a time to find out what’s wrong.
    Christian swings Teddy up into his arms. Our little boy is crying inconsolably and pointing to the ground, where the remains of his popsicle lie in a soggy mess, melting into the grass.
    “He dropped it,” Sophie says, sadly. “He could have had mine, but I’ve finished it.”
    “Oh, Sophie darling, don’t worry.” I stroke her hair.
    “Mommy!” Ted wails, holding his hands out to me. Christian reluctantly lets him go as I reach for him.
    “There, there.”
    “Pop,” he sobs.
    “I know, baby boy. We’ll go see Mrs. Taylor and get another one.” I kiss his head . . . oh, he smells so good. He smells of my baby boy.
    “Pop,” he sniffs. I take his hand and kiss his sticky fingers.
    “I can taste your popsicle here on your fingers.”
    Ted stops crying and examines his hand.
    “Put your fingers in your mouth.”
    He does. “Pop!”
    “Yes. Popsicle.”
    He grins. My mercurial little boy, just like his dad. Well, at least he has an excuse—he’s only two.
    “Shall we go see Mrs. Taylor?” He nods, smiling his beautiful baby smile. “Will you let Daddy carry you?” He shakes his head and wraps his arms around my neck, hugging me tightly, his face pressed against my throat.
    “I think Daddy wants to taste popsicle, too,” I whisper in Ted’s little ear. Ted frowns at me, then looks at his hand and holds it out to Christian. Christian smiles and puts Ted’s fingers in his mouth.
    “Hmm . . . tasty.”
    Ted giggles and reaches up, wanting Christian to hold him. Christian grins at me and takes Ted in his arms, settling him on his hip.
    “Sophie, where’s Gail?”
    “She was in the big house.”
    I glance at Christian. His smile has turned bittersweet, and I wonder what he’s thinking.
    “You’re so good with