chapterfive

istir,instinctivelyreachingovertochristian’ssideofthebedonlytofeelhis

absence.shit!iwakeinstantlyandlookanxiouslyaroundthecabin.christian

iswatchingmefromthesmall,upholsteredarmchairbythebed.stooping

down,heplacessomethingonthefloor,thenmovesandstretchesoutonthe

bedbesideme.he’sdressedinhiscutoffsandagrayt-shirt.

“hey,don’tpanic.everything’sfine,”hesays,hisvoicegentleandsoothing—

likehe’stalkingtoacorneredwildanimal.tenderly,hesmoothsthehair

backfrommyfaceandicalmimmediately.iseehimtryingandfailingtohide

hisownconcern.

“you’vebeensojumpytheselastcoupleofdays,”hemurmurs,hiseyeswide

andserious.

“i’mokay,christian.”igivehimmybrightestsmilebecauseidon’twanthim

toknowhowworriediamaboutthearsonincident.thepainfulrecollectionof

howifeltwhencharlietangowassabotagedandchristianwentmissing—

thehollowemptiness,theindescribablepain—keepsresurfacing;the

memorynaggingmeandgnawingatmyheart.keepingthesmilefixedon

myface,itrytorepressit.

“wereyouwatchingmesleep?”

“yes,”hesaysgazingatmesteadily,studyingme.“youweretalking.”

“oh?”shit!whatwasisaying?

“you’reworried,”headds,hiseyesfilledwithconcern.iblinkathim.isthere

nothingicankeepfromthisman?heleansforwardandkissesmebetween

mybrows.

“whenyoufrown,alittlevformsjusthere.it’ssofttokiss.don’tworrybaby,

i’lllookafteryou.”

“it’snotmei’mworriedabout—it’syou,”igrumble.“who’slookingafteryou?”

hesmilesindulgentlyatmytone.“i’mbigenoughanduglyenoughtolook

aftermyself.come.getup.there’sonethingi’dliketodo

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beforeweheadhome.”hegrinsatme,abigboyishyes-i’m-reallyonlytwenty-

eightgrin,andswatsmybehind.iyelp,startled,andrealizethattoday

we’regoingbacktoseattleandmymelancholyblossoms.idon’twantto

lea一ve.i’verelishedbeingwithhim24-7,andi’mnotreadytosharehimwith

hiscompanyandhisfamily.we’vehadablissfulhoneymoon.withafewups

anddowns,iadmit,butthat’snormalforanewlymarriedcouple,surely?

butchristiancannotcontainhisboyishexcitement,anddespitemydark

thoughts,it’sinfectious.whenherisesgracefullyoffthebed,ifollow,

intrigued.whathashegotinmind?

christianstrapsthekeytomywrist.

“youwantmetodrive?”

“yes.”christiangrins.“that’snottootight?”

“it’sfine.isthatwhyyou’rewearingalifejacket?”iarchmyeyebrow.

“yes.”

ican’thelpmygiggle.“suchconfidenceinmydrivingcapabilities,mr.grey.”

“asever,mrs.grey.”

“well,don’tlectureme.”

christianholdshishandsupinadefensivegesture,buthe’ssmiling.

“wouldidare?”

“yesyouwould,andyesyoudo,andwecan’tpulloverandargueonthe

sidewalkhere.”

“fairpointwellmade,mrs.grey.arewegoingtostandonthisplatformall

daydebatingyourdrivingskills,orarewegoingtoha一vesomefun?”

“fairpointwellmade,mr.grey.”igraspthehandlebarsofthejetskiand

clamberon.christianclimbsonbehindmeandkicksusawayfromthe

yacht.taylorandtwoofthedeckhandslookoninamusement.sliding

forward,christianwrapshisarmsaroundmeandsnuggleshisthighs

againstmine.yes,thisiswhatilikeaboutthisformoftransport.iinsertin

theignitionkeyandpushthestartbutton,andtheengineroarsintolife.

“ready?”ishouttochristianoverthenoise.

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fiftyshadesfreed

“asi’lleverbe,”hesays,hismouthclosetomyear.gently,ipullonthelever

andthejetskimovesawayfromthefairlady,fartoosedatelyformy

liking.christiantightenshisembrace.ipullonthegassomemore,andwe

shootforwardandi’mdelightedwhenwedon’tstall.

“whoa!”christiancallsfrombehind,buttheexhilarationinhisvoiceis

palpable.ispeedpastthefairladytowardtheopensea.we’reanchored

outsidetheportdeplaisancedesaint-claude-du-var,niceairportnestling

inthedistance,builtintothemediterranean,orsoitseems.i’veheardthe

oddplanelandingsincewearrivedlastnight.idecideweneedtotakea

closerlook.

weshoottowardit,skippingrapidlyoverthewa一ves.ilovethis,andi’m

thrilledchristian’slettingmedrive.alltheworryi’vefeltoverthepasttwo

daysmeltsawayasweskimtowardtheairport.

“nexttimewedothiswe’llha一vetwojetskis,”christianshouts.igrin—the

thoughtofracinghimisthrilling.

thoughtofracinghimisthrilling.

aswezoomoverthecoolblueseatowardwhatlooksliketheendofthe

runway,thethunderingroarofajetoverheadsuddenlystartlesmeasit

comesintoland.it’ssoloudipanic,swervingandhittingthethrottleatthe

sametime,mistakingitforabrake.

“ana!”christianshouts,butit’stoolate.i’mcatapultedoffthesideofthejet

ski,armsandlegsflailing,takingchristianwithmeinaspectacularsplash.

screaming,iplungeintothecrystalblueseaandswallowanastymouthfulof

themediterranean.thewateriscoldthisfarfromtheshore,butisurface

withinasplitsecond,courtesyofmylifejacket.coughingandspluttering,i

wipetheseawaterfrommyeyesandlookaroundforchristian.he’salready

swimmingtowardme.thejetskifloatsinoffensivelyafewfeetawayfrom

us,itsenginesilent.

“youokay?”hiseyesarefullofpanic,ashereachesme.

“yes,”icroak,buticannotcontainmyelation.see,christian?

that’stheworstthatcanhappenonajetski!hepullsmeintohisembrace,

thengrabsmyheadbetweenhishands,examiningmyfaceclosely.

“see,thatwasn’tsobad!”igrinaswetreadwater.eventuallyhesmirksat

me,obviouslyrelieved.“no,iguessitwasn’t.excepti’mwet,”hegrumbles,

buthistoneisplayful.

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eljames

“i’mwet,too.”

“ilikeyouwet.”heleers.

“christian!”iscold,tryingforfauxrighteousindignation.hegrins,looking

gorgeous,thenleansinandkissesmehard.whenhepullsaway,i’m

breathless.hiseyesaredarker,hoodedandheated,andi’mwarminspite

ofthecoldwater.

“come.let’sheadback.nowweha一vetoshower.i’lldrive.”

~o0o~

welazeinthebritishairwaysfirstclassloungeatheathrowinlondon,

waitingforourconnectingflighttoseattle.christianisengrossedinthe

financialtimes.ireachoverforhiscamera,wantingtotakesome

photographsofhim.helookssosexyinhistrademarkwhitelinenshirtand

jeans,andhisa一viatorspecstuckedintothevofhisopenshirt.theflash

disturbshim.heblinksupatmeandsmileshisshysmile.

“howareyou,mrs.grey?”heasks.

“sadtobegoinghome,”imurmur.“ilikeha一vingyoutomyself.”

hereachesoutandclaspsmyhand.liftingittohislips,hegrazesmy

knuckleswithasweetkiss.“metoo.”

“but?”iask,hearingthatsmallwordunsaidattheendofhissimple

statement.

hefrowns.“but?”herepeatsdisingenuously.itiltmyheadtooneside,

gazingathimwiththetellmeexpressioniha一vebeenperfectingoverthelast

coupleofdays.hesighs,puttinghisnewspaperdown.“iwantthisarsonist

caughtandoutofourlives.”

“oh.”thatseemsfairenough,buti’msurprisedbyhisbluntness.

“i’llha一vewelch’sballsonaplatterifheletsanythinglikethathappenagain.”

ashiverrunsdownmyspineathismenacingtone.hegazesatme

impassively,andidon’tknowifhe’sdaringmetobeflippantorwhat.idothe

onlythingicanthinkoftoeasethesuddentensionbetweenusandraisethe

cameraandsnapanotherphotograph.

~o0o~

“hey,sleepyhead,we’rehome,”christianmurmurs.

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fiftyshadesfreed

“hmm,”imumble,reluctanttolea一vemytantalizingdreamofchristianandme

onapicnicblanketatkewgardens.iamsotired.tra一vellingisexhausting,

eveninfirstclass.we’vebeenupforeighteenormorehoursstraight,ithink

—inmyfatiguei’velosttrack.ihearmydooropen,andchristianisleaning

overme.heunbucklesmyseatbeltandliftsmeintohisarms,wakingme.

“hey,icanwalk,”iprotestsleepily.

hesnorts.“ineedtocarryyouoverthethreshold.”

iputmyarmsaroundhisneck.“upallthirtyfloors?”igivehimachallenging

smile.

“mrs.grey,iamverypleasedtoannouncethatyou’veputonsomeweight.”

“what?”

hegrins.“soifyoudon’tmind,we’llusetheelevator.”henarrowshiseyes

atme,thoughiknowhe’steasing.

tayloropensthedoorstotheescalalobbyandsmiles.“welcomehomemr.

grey,mrs.grey.”

“thanks,taylor,”sayschristian.

igivetaylorthebriefestofsmilesandwatchhimheadbacktotheaudi

wheresawyerwaitsatthewheel.

“whatdoyoumeani’veputonweight?”iglareatchristian.hisgrin

broadens,andheclaspsmeclosertohischestashecarriesmeacrossthe

lobby.

“notmuch,”heassuresmebuthisfacedarkenssuddenly.ohno...what

now?

“whatisit?”ibreathe,tryingtocontrolthealarmihearinmyownvoice.

“you’veputonsomeoftheweightyoulostwhenyouleftme,”heexplains

quietlyashesummonstheelevator.ableakexpressioncrosseshisface.

no!hissudden,surprisinganguishtugsatmyheart.

“hey.”icurlmyfingersaroundhisfaceandintohishair,pullinghimtoward

me.hecomeswillingly.“ifihadn’tgone,wouldyoubestandinghere,like

this,now?”iwhisper.hiseyesmelt,thecolorofastormcloud,andhesmiles

hisshysmile,myfa一voritesmile.

“no,”hesaysquietlyandstepsintotheelevatorstillholdingme.heleans

downandkissesmegently.“no,mrs.grey,iwouldn’t.buti

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eljames

wouldknowicouldkeepyousafe,becauseyouwouldn’tdefyme.”

hesoundsvaguelyregretful...shit.

“ilikedefyingyou.”itestthewaters.

“iknow.andit’smademeso...happy.”hesmilesdownatmethroughhis

bemusement.

oh,thankhea一vens.“eventhoughi’mfat?”iwhisper.helaughs.“eventhough

you’refat.”hekissesmeagain,moreheatedthistime,andifistmyfingers

inhishair,holdinghimagainstme,ourtonguestwistinginaslowsensual

dancewitheachother.whentheelevatorpingstoahaltatthepenthouse,

wearebothbreathless.

“veryhappy,”hemurmurs.hissmileisdarkernow,hiseyeshoodedandfull

ofsalaciouspromise.heshakeshisheadasiftorecoverhimselfand,

turningwithmeinhisarms,walksintothefoyer.

“welcomehome,mrs.grey.”hekissesmeagain,morechastelythistime,

andgivesmethefull-gigawatt-patented-christian-greysmile,hiseyes

dancingwithjoy.

“welcomehome,mr.grey.”ibeamupathim,myheartansweringhiscall,

brimmingwithmyownjoy.

ithinkchristian’sgoingtoputmedown,buthedoesn’t.hecarriesme

throughthefoyer,acrossthecorridorandintothegreatroom,anddeposits

meonthekitchenislandwhereisitwithmylegsdangling.heretrievestwo

champagneflutesfromthekitchencupboardandabottleofchilled

champagnefromthefridge—ourfa一voritebollinger.hedeftlyopensthe

bottle,notspillingadropandpoursthepalepinkchampagneintoeachglass

andhandsonetome.takinguptheother,hegentlypartsmylegsand

movesforwardtostandbetweenthem.

“here’stous,mrs.grey.”

“tous,mr.grey,”iwhisperconsciousofmyshysmile.weclinkglassesand

takeasip.

“iknowyou’retired,”hewhispers,rubbinghisnoseagainstmine.

“buti’dreallyliketogotobed,andnottosleep.”hekissesthecornerofmy

mouth.“it’sourfirstnightbackhere,andyou’rereallymine.”

hisvoicedriftsoffasheplantssoftkissesdownmythroat.it’sonlyearly

eveninginseattle,andiamdog-tired,butdesirebloomsdeepinmybelly

andmyinnergoddesspurrs.

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fiftyshadesfreed

christianisslumberingpeacefullybesidemeasistareatthepinkand

goldenstreaksofthenewdawnthroughthevastwindows.hisarmisdraped

looselyovermybreasts,anditrytomatchhisbreathinginanefforttoget

backtosleep,butit’shopeless.i’mwideawake,mybodyclockon

greenwichmeantime,mymindracing.

somuchhashappenedinthelastthreeweeks—whoamikidding,thelast

threemonths—ifeelthatmyfeetha一ven’ttouchedtheground.andnowherei

am,anasteele—mrs.anastasiagrey—marriedtothemostdelicious,sexy,

philanthropic,absurdlywealthymogulawomancouldmeet.howdidthisall

happensofast?

ishiftontomysidetogazeathim,appraisinghisbeauty.iknowhewatches

mesleep,butirarelygettheopportunitytorepaythecompliment.helooks

soyoungandcarefreeinhissleep,hislonglashesfannedagainsthischeek,

alightsmatteringofstubblecoveringhisjaw,andhissculpturedlipsslightly

parted,relaxedashebreathesdeeply.iwanttokisshim,topushmytongue

betweenhislips,runmyfingersoverhissoftyetpricklystubble.ireallyha一ve

tofighttheurgenottotouchhim,nottodisturbhim.hmm...icouldjust

teasehisearlobewithmyteethandsuck.mysubconsciousglaresupatme

overherhalf-moonspectacles,distractedfromvolumetwoofthecomplete

worksofcharlesdickens,andmentallychastisesme.lea一vethepoorman

alone,ana.

iambacktoworkonmonday.weha一vetodaytoreacclimatize,thenwe’re

backintoourroutine.itwillbeoddnotseeingchristianforawholedayafter

spendingalmosteveryminutetogetherforthelastthreeweeks.ilieback

andstareattheceiling.onewouldthinkthatspendingsomuchtimetogether

wouldbesuffocating,butthat’sjustnotthecase.i’velovedeachandevery

minute,evenourfighting.everyminute...exceptthenewsofthefireatgrey

house.

mybloodchills.whocouldwanttoharmchristian?mymindgnawsatthis

mysteryagain.someoneinhisbusiness?anex?adisgruntledemployee?i

ha一venoidea,andchristianremainstightlippedaboutitall,drip-feedingme

theminimuminformationhecangetawaywithinabidtoprotectme.isigh.

myshiningwhite-and-darkknightalwaystryingtoprotectme.whatami

goingtodowithhimtomakehimopenupmore?

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eljames

hestirsandistill,notwantingtowakehim,butithastheoppositeeffect.

damn!twobrighteyesgazeatme,blinking.

“what’swrong?”

“nothing.gobacktosleep.”itrymyreassuringsmile.hestretches,rubshis

face,andthengrinsatme.

“jetlag?”heasks.

“isthatwhatthisis?ican’tsleep.”

“iha一vetheuniversalpanacearighthere,justforyou,baby.”hegrinslikea

schoolboy,makingmerollmyeyesandgiggleatthesametime.andjustlike

thatmydarkthoughtsaresweptasideandmyteethfindhisearlobe.

christianandicruisenorthonthei-5towardthe520bridgeintheaudir8.

wearegoingtoha一velunchathisparents’,awelcome-homesundaylunch.

allthefamilywillbethere,pluskateandethan.itwillbestrangetobeinso

muchcompanywhenwe’vebeenonourownallthistime.iha一ven’thadan

opportunitytotalktochristianmostofthemorning—hewasholedupinhis

studywhileiunpacked.hesaidididn’tha一veto,thatmrs.joneswoulddoit.

butthat’ssomethingelseineedtogetusedto—ha一vingdomestichelp.irun

myfingersabsentmindedlyovertheleatherupholsteryofthedoortodistract

mywanderingthoughts.ifeeloutofsorts.isitthejetlag?thearson?

“wouldyouletmedrivethis?”iask,surprisedthatisaythewordsoutloud.

“ofcourse,”christianreplies,smiling.“what’smineisyours.ifyoudentit,

though,iwilltakeyouintotheredroomofpain.”heglancesswiftlyatme

withamaliciousgrin.

shit!igapeathim.isthisajoke?

“you’rekidding.you’dpunishmefordentingyourcar?youloveyourcar

morethanyouloveme?”itease.

“it’sclose,”hesaysandreachesacrosstosqueezemyknee.“butshe

doesn’tkeepmewarmatnight.”

“i’msureitcouldbearranged.youcouldsleepinher,”isnap.christian

laughs.“weha一ven’tbeenhomeonedayandyou’rekickingmeoutalready?”

heseemsdelighted.igazeathimandhegivesmeaface-splittinggrin,and

althoughiwanttobemadathim,83|page

fiftyshadesfreed

it’simpossiblewhenhe’sinthiskindofmood.nowthatithinkaboutit,he’s

beeninabetterframeofmindeversincehelefthisstudythismorning.andit

dawnsonmethati’mbeingpetulantbecauseweha一vetogobacktoreality,

andidon’tknowifhe’sgoingtoreverttothemoreclosedpre-honeymoon

christian,orifi’llgettokeepthenewimprovedversion.

“whyareyousopleased?”iask.

heflashesyetanothergrinatme.“becausethisconversationisso...

normal.”

“normal!”isnort.“notafterthreeweeksofmarriage!surely.”

hissmileslips.

“i’mkidding,christian,”imutterquickly,notwantingtokillhismood.itstrikes

mehowunsureheisofhimselfsometimes.isuspectthathe’salwaysbeen

likethis,buthasjusthiddenhisuncertaintybeneathanintimidatingexterior.

he’sveryeasytotease,probablybecausehe’snotusedtoit.it’sa

revelation,andimarvelagainthatwestillha一vesomuchtolearnabouteach

other.

“don’tworry,i’llsticktothesaab,”imutterandturntostareoutofthe

window,tryingtoshakeoffmybadmood.

“hey.what’swrong?”

“nothing.”

“you’resofrustratingsometimes,ana.tellme.”

iturnandsmirkathim.“backatyou,grey.”

hefrowns.“i’mtrying,”hesayssoftly.

“iknow.metoo.”ismileandmymoodbrightensalittle.

carricklooksridiculousinhischef’shatandlicensedtogrillapronashe

standsatthebarbecue.everytimeilookathim,itmakesmesmile.infact,

myspiritsha一veliftedconsiderably.weareallsittingaroundthetableonthe

terraceofthegreyfamilyhome,enjoyingthelatesummersun.graceand

miaaresettingvarioussaladsoutonthetable,whileelliotandchristian

tradefriendlyinsultsanddiscussplansforthenewhouse,andethanand

kategrillmeaboutourhoneymoon.christiankeepsholdofmyhand,his

fingerstoyingwithmyweddingandengagementrings.

“soifyoucangettheplansfinalizedwithgia,iha一veawindow84|page

eljames

septemberthroughtomid-novemberandcangetthewholecrewonit,”

elliotsaysashestretchesanddropsanarmaroundkate’sshoulder,

makinghersmile.

“giaisduetocomeovertodiscusstheplanstomorrowevening,”

replieschristian.“ihopewecanfinalizeeverythingthen.”heturnsandlooks

expectantlyatme.

oh...thisisnews.

“sure.”ismileathim,mostlyforthebenefitofhisfamily,butmyspiritstakea

nosepeagain.whydoeshemakethesedecisionswithouttellingme?or

isitthethoughtofgia—alllushhipsandfullbreastsandexpensivedesigner

clothesandperfume—smilingtooprovocativelyatmyhusband?my

subconsciousglaresatme.he’sgivenyounoreasontobejealous.shit,i

amupanddowntoday.what’swrongwithme?

“ana,”kateexclaims,snappingmeoutofmyreverie.“youstillinthesouthof

france?”

“yes,”ireplywithasmile.

“youlooksowell,”shesays,thoughshefrownsasshesaysit.

“youbothdo.”gracebeamswhileelliotrefillsourglasses.

“tothehappycouple.”carrickgrinsandraiseshisglass,andeveryone

aroundthetableechoesthesentiment.

“andcongratulationstoethanforgettingintothepsychprogramatseattle,”

chipsinmiaproudly.shegiveshimanadoringsmileandethansmirksat

her.iwonderidlyifshe’smadeanyheadwaywithhim.it’sdifficulttotell.

ilistentothebanteraroundthetable.christianisrunningthroughour

extensiveitineraryoverthelastthreeweeks,embellishinghereandthere.he

soundsrelaxedandincontrol,theworryofthearsonistforgotten.i,onthe

otherhand,don’tseemtobeabletoshakemymood.ipickatmyfood.

christiansaidiwasfatyesterday.hewasjoking!mysubconsciousglaresat

meagain.elliotaccidentallyknockshisglassontotheterrace,startling

everyone,andthere’sasuddenflurryofactivitytogetitcleanedup.

“iamgoingtotakeyoutotheboathouseandfinallyspankyouinthereifyou

don’tsnapoutofthismood,”christianwhisperstome.igaspwithshock,

turn,andgapeathim.what?isheteasingme?

“youwouldn’tdare!”igrowlathimandfromdeepinsideifeela85|page

fiftyshadesfreed

familiar,welcomeexcitement.hecocksaneyebrowatme.ofcoursehe

would.iglancequicklyatkateacrossthetable.she’swatchinguswith

interest.iturnbacktochristian,narrowingmyeyesathim.

“you’dha一vetocatchmefirst—andi’mwearingflats,”ihiss.

“i’dha一vefuntrying,”hewhisperswithalicentiousgrin,andithinkhe’sjoking.

iflush.confusingly,ifeelbetter.

aswefinishourdessertofstrawberriesandcream,thehea一vensopenand

unexpectedlysoakus.weallleapuptocleartheplatesandglassesfrom

thetable,depositingtheminthekitchen.

“goodthingtheweatherheldofftillwefinished,”gracesayspleased,aswe

driftintothebackroomden.christiansitsdownattheshiningblackupright

piano,pressesthequietpedal,andstartstoplayafamiliartunethatican’t

immediatelyplace.

graceasksmeformyimpressionsofsaintpauldevence.sheandcarrick

wentyearsagoduringtheirhoneymoon,anditoccurstomethatthisisa

goodomen,seeinghowhappytheyaretogethernow.kateandelliotare

cuddlingononeofthelargeoverstuffedcouches,whileethan,mia,and

carrickaredeepinaconversationaboutpsychology,ithink.

suddenly,asone,allthegreysstoptalkingandgapeatchristian.what?

christianissingingsoftlytohimselfatthepiano.silencedescendsonusall

aswestraintohearhissoft,lyricalvoice.i’veheardhimsingbefore,ha一ven’t

they?hestops,suddenlyconsciousofthedeathlyhushthat’sfallenoverthe

room.kateglancesquestioninglyatmeandishrug.christianturnsonthe

stoolandfrowns,embarrassedtorealizehe’sbecomethecenterof

attention.

“goon,”graceurgessoftly.“i’veneverheardyousing,christian.ever.”she

staresathiminwonder.hesitsonthepianostoolblinkingabsentlyather,

andafterabeat,heshrugs.hiseyesflickernervouslytome,thenovertothe

frenchwindows.therestoftheroomsuddenlyeruptsinself-conscious

chatter,andi’mleftwatchingmydearhusband.

gracedistractsme,graspingmyhandsthensuddenlyfoldingmeinher

arms.

“oh,darlinggirl!thankyou,thankyou,”shewhispers,soonlyi86|page

eljames

canhear.itbringsalumptomythroat.

“um...”ihugherback,notreallysurewhyiambeingthanked.grace

smiles,hereyesshining,andkissesmycheek.ohmy...whatha一vei

done?

“iamgoingtomakesometea,”shesays,hervoicehoarsewithunshed

tears.

iambleovertochristianwhoisnowstandingstaringoutthroughthefrench

windows.

“hi,”imurmur.

“hi.”heputshisarmaroundmywaist,pullingmetohim,andislipmyhand

intothebackpocketofhisjeans.wegazeoutattherain.

“feelingbetter?”

inod.

“good.”

“youcertainlyknowhowtosilencearoom.”

“idoitallthetime,”hesaysandhegrinsatme.

“atwork,yes,butnothere.”

“true,nothere.”

“noone’severheardyousing?ever?”

“itappearsnot,”hesaysdryly.“shallwego?”

igazeupathim,tryingtogaugehismood.hiseyesaresoftandwarmand

slightlybemused.idecidetochangethesubject.

“yougoingtospankme?”iwhisper,andsuddenlytherearebutterfliesinmy

stomach.perhapsthisiswhatineed...thisiswhatiha一vebeenmissing.

hegazesdownatme,hiseyesdarkening.

“idon’twanttohurtyou,buti’mmorethanhappytoplay.”

“oh.”iglancenervouslyaroundthelargeroom,butweareoutofearshot.

“onlyifyoumisbeha一ve,mrs.grey.”hebendsandmurmursinmyear.

howcanheputsomuchsensualpromiseintosixwords?

“i’llseewhaticando.”igrin.

oncewe’vesaidourgoodbyes,wewalkovertothecar.

“here.”christianthrowsmethekeystother8.“don’tbendit”—

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fiftyshadesfreed

headdsinallseriousness—“oriwillbefuckingpissed.”

mymouthgoesdry.he’slettingmedrivehiscar?myinnergoddesswhips

onherleatherdrivingglovesandflatshoes.ohyes!shecries.

“areyousure?”imouth,stunned.

“yes,beforeichangemymind.”

idon’tthinkiha一veevergrinnedsohard.herollshiseyesandopensthe

driver’sdoorsothaticanclimbin.istarttheenginebeforehe’seven

reachedthepassengerside,andhejumpsinquickly.

“eager,mrs.grey?”heaskswithawrysmile.

“very.”

slowly,ieasethecarbackwardandturnitinthedriveway.imanagenotto

stallit,surprisingmyself.boy,istheclutchsensitive.carefullyna一vigatingthe

driveway,iglanceinmyrearviewmirrortoseesawyerandryan—our

securityfortheday—climbintotheaudisuv.ihadnoideathatthey’d

followedushere.ipausebeforeisetoutontothemainroad.

“you’resureaboutthis?”

“yes,”christiansaystightly,tellingmehe’snotsureaboutthisatall.oh,my

poor,poorfifty.iwanttolaugh,atbothhimandmyself,becausei’mnervous

andexcited.asmallpartofmewantstolosesawyerandryan,justforthe

kicks.icheckfortraffictheninchther8

outontotheroad.christiancurlsupwithtensionandican’tresist.theroad

isclear.iputmyfootdownonthegasandweshootforward.

“whoa!ana!”christianshouts.“slowdown—you’llkillusboth.”

iimmediatelyeaseoffthegas.wow,canthiscarmove!

“sorry,”imutter,tryingtosoundcontriteandfailingmiserably.christian

smirksatme,tohidehisrelief,ithink.

“well,thatcountsasmisbeha一ving,”hesayscasuallyandislowrightdown.

iglanceintherearviewmirror.nosignoftheaudi,justasolitarydarkcar

withtintedwindowsbehindus.iimaginesawyerandryanflustered,frantic

tocatchup,andforsomereasonthisgivesmeathrill.butnotwantingto

givemydearhusbandacoronary,idecidetobeha一veanddrivesteadily,with

growingconfidence,towardthe520

bridge.

suddenly,christianswearsandstrugglestopullhisblackberry88|page

eljames

fromthepocketofhisjeans.

“what?”hesnapsangrilyatwhoeveritisontheotherendoftheline.“no.”he

saysandglancesbehindus.“yes.sheis.”

what?brieflycheckingtherearviewmirror,ican’tseeanythingodd—there

arejustafewcarsbehindus.thesuvisaboutfourcarsbackandwe’reall

cruisingatanevenpace.

“isee.”christiansighslongandhardandrubshisforeheadwithhisfingers,

tensionradiatesoffhim.something’swrong.

“yes...idon’tknow.”heglancesatmeandlowersthephonefromhisear.

“we’refine.keepgoing,”hesayscalmly,smilingatme,butthesmile

doesn’ttouchhiseyes.shit!adrenalinespikesthroughmysystem.hepicks

thephoneupagain.