Fifty Shades Freed (Christian & Ana)(262)

"As do you, Mr. Grey."

"Isn't Mommy pretty?" Christian whispers in Ted's ear. Ted swats him away, more interested in Daddy's BlackBerry.

I giggle. "You can't get around him."

"I know." Christian grins and kisses Ted's hair. "I can't believe he'll be two tomorrow." His tone is wistful. Reaching across, he spreads his hand over my bump. "Let's have lots of children," he says.

"One more at least." I grin, and he caresses my belly.

"How is my daughter?"

"She's good. Asleep, I think."

"Hello, Mr. Grey. Hi, Ana."

We both turn to see Sophie, Taylor's ten-year-old daughter, appear out of the long grass.

"Soeee," Ted squeals with delighted recognition. He struggles out of Christian's lap, discarding the BlackBerry.

"I have some popsicles from Gail," Sophie says. "Can I give one to Ted?"

"Sure," I say. Oh dear, this is going to be messy.

"Pop!" Ted holds out his hands and Sophie passes one to him. It's dripping already.

"Here—let Mommy see." I sit up, take the popsicle from Ted, and quickly slip it into my mouth, licking off the excess juice. Hmm . . . cranberry, cool and delicious.

"Mine!" Ted protests, his voice ringing with indignation.

"Here you go." I hand him back a slightly less runny popsicle, and it goes straight into his mouth. He grins.

"Can Ted and I go for a walk?" Sophie asks.

"Sure."

"Don't go too far."

"No, Mr. Grey." Sophie's hazel eyes are wide and serious. I think she's a little frightened of Christian. She holds her hand out, and Teddy takes it willingly.

They trudge away together through the long grass.

Christian watches them.

"They'll be fine, Christian. What harm could come to them here?" He frowns at me momentarily, and I crawl over and into his lap.

"Besides, Ted is completely smitten with Sophie."

Christian snorts and nuzzles my hair. "She's a delightful child."

"She is. So pretty, too. A blonde angel."

Christian stills and places his hands on my belly. "Girls, eh?" There's a hint of trepidation in his voice. I curl my hand behind his head.

"You don't have to worry about your daughter for at least another three months. I have her covered here. Okay?"

He kisses me behind my ear and scrapes his teeth around the edge to the lobe.

"Whatever you say, Mrs. Grey." Then he bites me. I yelp.

"I enjoyed last night," he says. "We should do that more often."

"Me, too."

"And we could, if you stopped working . . ."

I roll my eyes and he tightens his arms around me and grins into my neck.

"Are you rolling your eyes at me Mrs. Grey?" His threat is implicit but sensual, making me squirm, but as we're in the middle of the meadow with the kids nearby, I ignore his invitation.

"Grey Publishing has an author on the New York Times Best Sellers—Boyce Fox's sales are phenomenal, the e-book side of our business has exploded, and I finally have the team I want around me."

"And you're making money in these difficult times," Christian adds, his voice reflecting his pride. "But . . . I like you barefoot and pregnant and in my kitchen."

I lean back so I can see his face. He gazes down at me, eyes bright.

"I like that, too," I murmur, and he kisses me, his hands still spread across my bump.