Fifty Shades Darker(57)

I lift my hand from his shoulder and run my fingertips down this face.

"I just want to touch you everywhere I'm allowed."

Christian catches my index finger in his teeth, biting down gently.

"Ow," I protest and he grins, a low growl coming from his throat.

"Okay," he says, releasing my finger, but his voice is laced with apprehension. "Wait."

He leans behind me, lifting me again, and removes his condom, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor beside the bed.

"I hate those things. I've a good mind to call Dr. Greene around to give you a shot."

"You think the top ob-gyn in Seattle is going to come running?"

"I can be very persuasive," he murmurs, hooking my hair behind my ear. "Franco's done a great job on your hair. I like these layers."

What?

"Stop changing the subject."

He shifts me back so I'm straddling him, leaning on his propped-up knees, my feet on either side of his hips. He leans back on his arms.

"Touch away," he says without humor. He looks nervous, but he's trying to hide it.

Keeping my eyes on his, I reach down and trace my finger underneath the lipstick line, across his finely sculptured abdominal muscles. He flinches and I stop.

"I don't have to," I whisper.

"No, it's fine. Just takes some... readjustment on my part. No one's touched me for a long time," he murmurs.

"Mrs. Robinson?" The words pop unbidden out of my mouth, and amazingly, I manage to keep all bitterness and rancor out of my voice.

He nods, his discomfort obvious. "I don't want to talk about her. It will sour your good mood."

"I can handle it."

"No, you can't, Ana. You see red whenever I mention her. My past is my past. It's a fact. I can't change it. I'm lucky that you don't have one, because it would drive me crazy if you did."

I frown at him, but I don't want to fight. "Drive you crazy? More than you are already?" I smile, hoping to lighten the atmosphere between us.

His lips twitch. "Crazy for you," he whispers.

My heart swells with joy.

"Shall I call Dr. Flynn?"

"I don't think that will be necessary," he says dryly.

Shifting back so he drops his legs, I place my fingers back on his stomach and let them drift across his skin. He stills once more.

"I like touching you." My fingers skate down to his navel then southward along his happy, happy trail. His lips part as his breathing changes, his eyes darken and his erection stirs and twitches beneath me. Holy cow. Round two.

"Again?" I murmur.

He smiles. "Oh yes, Miss Steele, again."

What a delicious way to spend a Saturday afternoon. I stand beneath the shower, absentmindedly washing myself, careful not to wet my tied-back hair, contemplating the last couple of hours. Christian and vanilla seem to be going well.

He's revealed so much today. It's staggering, trying to assimilate all the information and to reflect on what I've learned: his salary details -  Whoa, he's stinking rich, and for someone so young; it's just extraordinary - and the dossiers he has on me and on all his brunette submissives. I wonder if they are all in that filing cabinet?

My subconscious purses her lips at me and shakes her head -  don't even go there. I frown. Just a quick peek?

And there's Leila - with a gun, potentially, somewhere - and her crap taste in music still on his iPod. But even worse, Mrs. Paedo Robinson, I cannot wrap my head around her, and I don't want to. I don't want her to be a shimmering-haired specter in our relationship.