Fifty Shades Trilogy 03 - Fifty Shades Freed

the moment,” he says unconvincingly.
    I frown at him, and he sighs. “Ana, orgasm denial is a standard tool in—You never—” He stops. I shift in his lap, and he winces.
    Oh. I flush. “Sorry,” I mutter.
    He rolls his eyes, then leans back suddenly, taking me with him, so that we’re both lying on the bed, me in his arms. My bra is uncomfortable, and I adjust it.
    “Need a hand?” he asks quietly.
    I shake my head. I don’t want him to touch my breasts. He shifts so he’s looking down at me, and tentatively raising his hand, he strokes his fingers gently down my face. Tears pool in my eyes again. How can he be so callous one minute and so tender the next?
    “Please don’t cry,” he whispers.
    I’m dazed and confused by this man. My anger has deserted me in my hour of need . . . I feel numb. I want to curl up in a ball and withdraw. I blink, trying to hold back my tears as I gaze into his harrowed eyes. I take a shuddering breath, my eyes not leaving his. What am I going to do with this controlling man? Learn to be controlled? I don’t think so . . .
    “I never what?” I ask
    “Do as you’re told. You changed your mind; you didn’t tell me where you were. Ana, I was in New York, powerless and livid. If I’d been in Seattle I’d have brought you home.”
    “So you are punishing me?”
    He swallows, then closes his eyes. He doesn’t have to answer, and I know that punishing me was his exact intention.
    “You have to stop doing this,” I murmur.
    His brow furrows.
    “For a start, you only end up feeling shittier about yourself.”
    He snorts. “That’s true,” he mutters. “I don’t like to see you like this.”
    “And I don’t like feeling like this. You said on the Fair Lady that you hadn’t married a submissive.”
    “I know. I know.” His voice is soft and raw.
    “Well stop treating me like one. I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I won’t be so selfish again. I know you worry about me.”
    He gazes at me, scrutinizing me closely, his eyes bleak and anxious. “Okay. Good,” he says eventually. He leans down, but pauses before his lips touch mine, silently asking if it’s allowed. I raise my face to his, and he kisses me tenderly.
    “Your lips are always so soft when you’ve been crying,” he murmurs.
    “I never promised to obey you, Christian,” I whisper.
    “I know.”
    “Deal with it, please. For both our sakes. And I will try and be more considerate of your . . . controlling tendencies.”
    He looks lost and vulnerable, completely at sea.
    “I’ll try,” he murmurs, his voice burning with sincerity.
    I sigh, a long shuddering sigh. “Please do. Besides, if I had been here . . .”
    “I know,” he says and blanches. Lying back, he puts his free arm over his face. I curl around him and lay my head on his chest. We both lie silent for a few moments. His hand moves to the end of my braid. He pulls the tie from it, freeing my hair, and gently, rhythmically combs his fingers through it. This is what this is really about—his fear . . . his irrational fear for my safety. An image of Jack Hyde slumped on the floor in my apartment with a Glock comes to mind . . . well, maybe not so irrational, which reminds me . . .
    “What did you mean earlier, when you said or ?” I ask.
    “Or?”
    “Something about Jack.”
    He peers down at me. “You don’t give up, do you?”
    I rest my chin on his sternum, enjoying the soothing caress of his fingers in my hair.
    “Give up? Never. Tell me. I don’t like being kept in the dark. You seem to have some overblown idea that I need protecting. You don’t even know how to shoot—I do. Do you think I can’t handle whatever it is you won’t tell me, Christian? I’ve had your stalker ex-sub pull a gun on me, your pedophile ex-lover harass me—and don’t look at me like that,” I snap when he scowls at me. “Your mother feels the same way about her.”
    “You talked to my mother about Elena?” Christian’s voice raises a few octaves.
    “Yes, Grace and I talked about her.”
    He gapes at me.
    “She’s very upset about it. Blames herself.”
    “I can’t believe you spoke to my mother. Shit!” He lies down and puts his arm over his face again.
    “I didn’t go into any specifics.”
    “I should hope not. Grace doesn’t need all the gory details. Christ, Ana. My dad, too?”
    “No!” I shake my head vehemently. I don’t have that kind of relationship with Carrick. His comments about the