Fifty Shades Darker(153)

The wooden floor is hard against my shins, and I dash my tears away roughly with the back of my hand.

Like this, we are equals. We're on a level. This is the only way I'm going to retrieve him.His eyes widen fractionally as I stare up at him, but beyond that his expression and stance don't change.

"Christian, you don't have to do this," I plead. "I'm not going to run. I've told you and told you and told you, I won't run." All that's happened... it's overwhelming. I just need some time to think... some time to myself. Why do you always assume the worst?" My heart clenches again because I know; it's because he's so doubting, so full of self-loathing.

Elena's words come back to haunt me. "Does she know how negative you are about yourself? About all your issues?"

Oh, Christian. Fear grips my heart once more and I start babbling, "I was going to suggest going back to my apartment this evening. You never give me any time... time to just think things through," I sob, and a ghost of a frown crosses his face. "Just time to think. We barely know each other, and all this baggage that comes with you... I need... I need time to think it through. And now that Leila is... well, whatever she is... she's off the streets and not a threat... I thought... I thought..." My voice trails off and I stare at him. He regards me intently and I think he's listening

"Seeing you with Leila..." I close my eyes as the painful memory of his interaction with his ex-sub gnaws at me anew. "It was such a shock. I had a glimpse into how your life has been... and..." I gaze down at my knotted fingers, tears still trickling down my cheeks. "This is about me not being good enough for you. It was an insight into your life, and I am so scared you'll get bored with me, and then you'll go... and I'll end up like Leila... a shadow. Because I love you, Christian, and if you leave me, it will be like a world without light. I'll be in darkness. I don't want to run. I'm just so frightened you'll leave me..."

I realize as I say these words to him - in the hope that he's listening - what my real problem is. I just don't get why he likes me. I have never understood why he likes me.

"I don't understand why you find me attractive," I murmur. "You're, well, you're you... and I'm..." I shrug and gaze up at him. "I just don't see it. You're beautiful and sexy and successful and good and kind and caring - all those things - and I'm not. And I can't do the things you like to do. I can't give you what you need. How could you be happy with me? How can I possibly hold you?" My voice is a whisper as I express my darkest fears. "I have never understood what you see in me. And seeing you with her, it brought all that home." I sniff and wipe my nose with the back of my hand, gazing at his impassive expression.

Oh, he's so exasperating. Talk to me, damn it!

"Are you going to kneel here all night? Because I'll do it, too," I snap at him.

I think his expression softens - maybe he looks vaguely amused. But it's so hard to tell.

I could reach across and touch him, but this would be a gross abuse of the position he's put me in. I don't want that, but I don't know what he wants, or what he's trying to say to me. I just don't understand.

"Christian, please, please... talk to me," I beseech him, wringing my hands in my lap.

I am uncomfortable on my knees, but I continue to kneel, staring into his serious, beautiful, gray eyes, and I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

"Please," I beg once more.

His intense gaze darkens suddenly and he blinks.