Fifty Shades Freed (Christian & Ana)(68)

"I want you," he murmurs and it's a green light to my libido. My fingers move into his hair, pulling his head back so I can claim his mouth, fire licking hot and high in my belly. He groans and pushes me back onto the couch. He sits up and rips off my sweatpants, undoing his fly at the same time.

"Home run," he whispers, and swiftly he fills me.

"Ah . . ." I groan and he stills, grabbing my face between his hands.

"I love you, Mrs. Grey," he murmurs and very slowly, very gently, he makes love to me until I come apart at the seams, calling his name and wrapping myself around him, never wanting to let him go.

I lay sprawled on his chest. We're on the floor of the TV room.

"You know, we completely bypassed third base." My fingers trace the line of his pectoral muscles.

He laughs. "Next time, Mrs. Grey." He kisses the top of my head.

I look up to stare at the television screen where the end credits for The X-Files play. Christian reaches for the remote and switches the sound back on.

"You liked that show?" I ask.

"When I was a kid."

Oh . . . Christian as a kid . . . kickboxing and X Files and no touching.

"You?" he asks.

"Before my time."

"You're so young." Christian smiles fondly. "I like making out with you, Mrs. Grey."

"Likewise, Mr. Grey." I kiss his chest, and we lie silently watching as The X-Files finish and the commercials come on.

"It's been a heavenly three weeks. Car chases and fires and psycho ex-bosses notwithstanding. Like being in our own private bubble," I mutter dreamily.

"Hmm," Christian hums deep in his throat. "I'm not sure I'm ready to share you with the rest of the world yet."

"Back to reality tomorrow," I murmur, trying to keep the melancholy from my voice.

Christian sighs and runs his other hand through his hair. "Security will be tight—" I put my finger over his lips. I don't want to hear this lecture again.

"I know. I'll be good. I promise." Which reminds me . . . I shift, propping myself up on my elbows to see him better. "Why were you shouting at Sawyer?"

He stiffens immediately. Oh shit.

"Because we were followed."

"That wasn't Sawyer's fault."

He gazes at me levelly. "They should never have let you get so far in front.

They know that."

I blush guiltily and resume my position, resting on his chest. It was my fault.

I wanted to get away from them.

"That wasn't—"

"Enough!" Christian is suddenly curt. "This is not up for discussion, Anastasia. It's a fact, and they won't let it happen again."

Anastasia! I am Anastasia when I am in trouble just like at home with my mother.

"Okay," I mutter, placating him. I don't want to fight. "Did Ryan catch up with the woman in the Dodge?"

"No. And I'm not convinced it was a woman."

"Oh?" I look up again.

"Sawyer saw someone with their hair tied back, but it was a brief look. He assumed it was a woman. Now, given that you've identified that f*cker, maybe it was him. He wore his hair like that." The disgust in Christian's voice is palpable.

I don't know what to make of this news. Christian runs his hand down my naked back, distracting me.

"If anything happened to you . . . ," he murmurs, his eyes wide and serious.

"I know," I whisper. "I feel the same about you." I shiver at the thought.