Fifty Shades Freed (Christian & Ana)(117)

"You're going to blindfold me?" I mutter, shocked. All of a sudden I'm breathless.

"Yes."

"Christian—" He places a finger upon my lips, silencing me.

I want to talk.

"We'll talk later. I want you to eat now. You said you were hungry." He lightly kisses my lips. The silk of the scarf is soft against my eyelids as he ties it securely at the back of my head.

"Can you see?" he asks.

"No," I mutter, figuratively rolling my eyes. He chuckles softly.

"I can tell when you're rolling your eyes, . . . and you know how that makes me feel."

I purse my lips. "Can we just get this over and done with?" I snap.

"Such impatience, Mrs. Grey. So eager to talk." His tone is playful.

"Yes!"

"I must feed you first," he says and brushes his lips over my temple, calming me instantly.

Okay . . . have it your way. I resign myself to my fate and listen to his movements around the kitchen. The fridge door opens, and Christian places various dishes on the countertop behind me. He pads over to the microwave, pops something in, and turns it on. My curiosity is piqued. I hear the toaster lever drop, the turn of the control, and the quiet tick of the timer. Hmm—toast?

"Yes. I am eager to talk," I murmur, distracted. An assortment of exotic, spicy aromas fills the kitchen, and I shift in my chair.

"Be still, Anastasia," he murmurs, and he's close to me again. "I want you to behave . . . ," he whispers.

Oh my. My inner goddess freezes, not even blinking.

"And don't bite your lip." Gently he tugs my bottom lip free of my teeth, and I can't help my smile.

Next, I hear the sharp pop of a cork being drawn from a bottle and the gentle glug of wine being poured into a glass. Then a moment of silence followed by a quiet click and the soft hiss of white noise from the surround-sound speakers as they come to life. A loud twang of a guitar begins a song I don't know. Christian turns the volume down to background level. A man starts to sing, his voice deep, low, and sexy.

"A drink first, I think," Christian whispers, diverting me from the song.

"Head back." I tip my head back. "Further," he prompts.

I oblige, and his lips are on mine. Cool crisp wine flows into my mouth. I swallow reflexively. Oh my. Memories flood back of not so long ago—me trussed up on my bed in Vancouver before I graduated with a hot, angry Christian not appreciating my e-mail. Hmm . . . have times changed? Not much. Except now I recognize the wine, Christian's favorite—a Sancerre.

"Hmm," I murmur in appreciation.

"You like the wine?" he whispers, his breath warm on my cheek. I'm bathed in his proximity, his vitality, the heat radiating from his body, even though he doesn't touch me.

"Yes," I breathe.

"More?"

"I always want more, with you."

I almost hear his grin. It makes me grin, too. "Mrs. Grey, are you flirting with me?"

"Yes."

His wedding ring clinks against the glass as he takes another sip of wine.

Now that is a sexy sound. This time he pulls my head right back, cradling me. He kisses me once more, and greedily I swallow the wine he gives me. He smiles as he kisses me again.

"Hungry?"

"I think we've already established that, Mr. Grey."

The troubadour on the iPod is singing about wicked games. Hmm . . . How apt.

The microwave pings, and Christian releases me. I sit upright. The food smells spicy: garlic, mint, oregano, rosemary, and lamb, I think. The door to the microwave opens, and the appetizing smell grows stronger.