Fifty Shades Freed (Christian & Ana)(142)

"You can ride a motorcycle?" he asks, his voice laced with disbelief.

"Not very well. Ethan taught me."

His eyes frost immediately. "You made the right decision," he says, his voice much cooler. "The ground's very hard at the moment, and the rain's made it treacherous and slippery."

"Where do you want the fishing gear?" Ethan calls from outside.

"Leave it, Ethan—Taylor will take care of it."

"What about the fish?" Ethan continues, his voice vaguely taunting.

"You caught a fish?" I ask, surprised.

"Not me. Kavanagh did." And Christian pouts . . . prettily.

I burst out laughing.

"Mrs. Bentley will deal with that," he calls back. Ethan grins and heads into the house.

"Am I amusing you, Mrs. Grey?"

"Very much so. You're wet . . . Let me run you a bath."

"As long as you join me." He leans down and kisses me.

I fill the large egg-shaped tub in the en suite bathroom and pour in some expensive bath oil, which starts to foam immediately. The aroma is heavenly . . . jasmine, I think. Back in the bedroom, I start to hang The Dress while the bath fills.

"Did you have a good time?" Christian asks as he enters the room. He's just in a T-shirt and sweat pants, his feet bare. He closes the door behind him.

"Yes," I murmur, drinking him in. I have missed him. Ridiculous—it's only been what, a few hours?

He cocks his head to one side and gazes at me. "What is it?"

"I was thinking how much I've missed you."

"You sound like you have it bad, Mrs. Grey."

"I have, Mr. Grey."

He strolls toward me until he's standing in front of me. "What did you buy?"

he whispers, and I know it's to change the topic of conversation.

"A dress, some shoes, a necklace. I spent a great deal of your money." I glance up at him, guiltily.

He's amused. "Good," he murmurs and tucks a stray lock of my hair behind my ear. "And for the billionth time, our money." He tugs my chin, releasing my lip from my teeth and runs his index finger down the front of my T-shirt, down my sternum, between my breasts, down my stomach, and over my belly to the hem.

"You won't be needing this in the bath," he whispers, and gripping the hem of my T-shirt in both hands, slowly pulls it up. "Lift your arms."

I comply, not taking my eyes off his, and he drops my T-shirt on the floor.

"I thought we were just having a bath." My pulse quickens.

"I want to make you good and dirty first. I've missed you, too." He leans down and kisses me.

"Shit, the water!" I struggle to sit up, all post-orgasmic and dazed.

Christian doesn't release me.

"Christian, the bath!" I gaze down at him from my prone position across his chest.

He laughs. "Relax—it's a wet room." He rolls over and kisses me quickly.

"I'll switch off the faucet."

He climbs gracefully off the bed and strolls into the bathroom. My eyes greedily follow him all the way. Hmm . . . my husband, naked and soon to be wet.

My inner goddess licks her lips salaciously and gives me her well-f*cked grin. I bound out of bed.

We sit at opposite ends of the bath, which is very full—so full that whenever we move, water laps over the side and splashes to the floor. It's very decadent. Even more decadent is Christian washing my feet, massaging the soles, pulling gently on my toes. He kisses each one and gently bites my little toe.