Fifty Shades Trilogy 03 - Fifty Shades Freed

Christian buries his nose in my hair and inhales deeply. I let out a contented sigh, and I feel his smile. And we sit, arms clasped around each other, saying nothing.
    Eventually reality intrudes.
    “It’s late,” Christian says, his fingers methodically stroking my back.
    “Your hair still needs cutting.”
    He chuckles. “That it does, Mrs. Grey. Do you have the energy to finish the job you started?”
    “For you, Mr. Grey, anything.” I kiss his chest once more and reluctantly stand.
    “Don’t go.” Grabbing my hips, he turns me around. He straightens then undoes my skirt, letting it drop to the floor. He holds his hand out to me. I take it and step out of my skirt. Now I am dressed solely in stockings and garter belt.
    “You are a mighty fine sight, Mrs. Grey.” He sits back in the chair and crosses his arms, giving me a full and frank appraisal.
    I hold out my hands and twirl for him.
    “God, I’m a lucky son of a bitch,” he says admiringly.
    “Yes, you are.”
    He grins. “Put my shirt on and you can cut my hair. Like this, you’ll distract me, and we’ll never get to bed.”
    I can’t help my answering smile. Knowing that he’s watching my every move, I sashay over to where we left my shoes and his shirt. Bending slowly, I reach down, pick up his shirt, smell it— hmm —then shrug it on.
    Christian’s eyes are round. He’s redone his fly and is watching me intently.
    “That’s quite a floor show, Mrs. Grey.”
    “Do we have any scissors?” I ask innocently, batting my eyelashes.
    “My study,” he croaks.
    “I’ll go search.” Leaving him, I walk into our bedroom and grab my comb from the dressing table before heading to his study. As I enter the main corridor, I notice the door to Taylor’s office is open. Mrs. Jones is standing just beyond the door. I stop, rooted to the spot.
    Taylor is running his fingers down her face and smiling sweetly at her. Then he leans down and kisses her.
    Holy shit! Taylor and Mrs. Jones? I gape in astonishment—I mean, I thought . . . well, I kind of suspected. But obviously they are together! I flush, feeling like a voyeur, and manage to get my feet to move. I scamper across the great room and into Christian’s study. Switching on the light, I walk to his desk. Taylor and Mrs. Jones . . . Wow! I’m reeling. I always thought Mrs. Jones was older than Taylor. Oh, I have to get my head around this. I open the top drawer and am immediately distracted when I find a gun. Christian has a gun!
    A revolver. Holy fuck! I had no idea Christian owned a gun. I take it out, slip the release and check the cylinder. It’s fully loaded, but light . . . too light. It must be carbon fiber. What does Christian want with a gun? Jeez, I hope he knows how to use it. Ray’s perpetual warnings about handguns run quickly through my mind. His army training was never lost. These will kill you, Ana. You need to know what you’re doing when you’re handling a firearm . I put the gun back and find the scissors. Retrieving them quickly, I bolt back to Christian, my head buzzing. Taylor and Mrs. Jones . . . the revolver . . .
    At the entrance to the great room, I run into Taylor.
    “Mrs. Grey, excuse me.” His face reddens as he quickly takes in my attire.
    “Um, Taylor, hi . . . um. I’m cutting Christian’s hair!” I blurt out, embarrassed. Taylor is as mortified as I am. He opens his mouth to say something then closes it quickly and stands aside.
    “After you, ma’am,” he says formally. I think I’m the color of my old Audi, the submissive special. Jeez. Could this be more embarrassing?
    “Thank you,” I mutter and dash down the hallway. Crap! Will I ever get used to the fact that we’re not alone? I dash into the bathroom, breathless.
    “What’s wrong?” Christian is standing in front of the mirror, holding my shoes. All of my scattered clothes are now neatly piled beside the sink.
    “I just ran into Taylor.”
    “Oh.” Christian frowns. “Dressed like that.”
    Oh shit! “That’s not Taylor’s fault.”
    Christian’s frown deepens. “No. But still.”
    “I’m dressed.”
    “Barely.”
    “I don’t know who was more embarrassed, me or him.” I try my distraction technique. “Did you know he and Gail are . . . well, together?”
    Christian laughs. “Yes, of course I knew.”
    “And you never told me?”
    “I thought you knew, too.”
    “No.”
    “Ana, they’re adults. They live under the same roof. Both