Fifty Shades Darker (Fifty Shades #2)(95)
Author: E.L. James

His hands fist in my hair as he pulls my face up to his, and his mouth is on mine, a passionate desperation in his kiss. I don’t know why this takes me by surprise, but it does.

I taste his relief, his longing, and his residual anger while his tongue possesses my mouth.

He stops, gazing down at me, resting his weight against me so I can’t move. He leaves me breathless, clinging to him for support, staring up into that beautiful face etched with determination and without any trace of humor.

"If anything had happened to you… If he’d harmed you…" I feel the shudder that runs through him. "Blackberry," he commands quietly. "From now on. Understand?"

I nod, swallowing, unable to break eye contact from his grim, mesmerizing look.

He straightens, releasing me as the elevator comes to a stop. "He said you kicked him in the balls." Christian’s tone is lighter with a trace of admiration, and I think I’m forgiven.

"Yes," I whisper, still reeling from the intensity of his kiss and his impassioned command.

"Good."

"Ray is ex-army. He taught me well."

"I’m very glad he did," he breathes and adds, arching a brow, "I’ll need to remember that." Taking my hand, he leads me out of the elevator and I follow, relieved. I think that’s as bad as his mood is going to get.

"I need to call Barney. I won’t be long." He disappears into his study, leaving me stranded in the vast living room. Mrs. Jones is adding the finishing touches to our meal. I realize I am famished, but I need something to do.

"Can I help?" I ask.

She laughs. "No, Ana. Can I fix you a drink or something? You look beat."

"I’d love a glass of wine."

"White?"

"Yes, please."

I perch on one of the bar stools, and she hands me a glass of chilled wine. I don’t know what it is, but it’s delicious and slides down easily, soothing my shattered nerves. What was I thinking about earlier today? How alive I have felt since I met Christian. How exciting my life has become. Jeez, could I just have a few boring days?

What if I’d never met Christian? I’d be holed up in my apartment, talking it through with Ethan, completely freaked by my encounter with Jack, knowing I would have to face the sleazeball again on Friday. As it is, there’s every chance I’ll never set eyes on him again.

But who will I work for now? I frown. I hadn’t thought of that. Shit, do I even have a job?

"Evening, Gail," Christian says as he comes back into the great room, dragging me from my thoughts. Heading straight to the fridge, he pours himself a glass of wine.

"Good evening, Mr. Grey. Dinner in ten, sir?"

"Sounds good."

Christian raises his glass.

"To ex-military men who train their daughters well," he says and his eyes soften.

"Cheers," I mutter, raising my glass.

"What’s wrong?" Christian asks.

"I don’t know if I still have a job."

He cocks his head to the side. "Do you still want one?"

"Of course."

"Then you still have one."

Simple. See? He is master of my universe. I roll my eyes at him and he smiles.

Mrs. Jones makes a mean chicken potpie. She has left us to enjoy the fruits of her labors, and I feel much better now I’ve had something to eat. We are sitting at the breakfast bar, and despite my best cajoling, Christian won’t tell me what Barney has found on Jack’s computer. I drop the subject, and decide to tackle instead the thorny issue of Jose’s impend-ing visit.

"Jose called," I say nonchalantly.

"Oh?" Christian turns to face me.

"He wants to deliver your photos on Friday."

"A personal delivery. How accommodating of him," Christian mutters.

"He wants to go out. For a drink. With me."

"I see."

"And Kate and Elliot should be back," I add quickly.

Christian puts his fork down, frowning at me.

"What exactly are you asking?"

I bristle. "I’m not asking anything. I’m informing you of my plans for Friday. Look, I want to see Jose, and he wants to stay over. Either he stays here or he can stay at my place, but if he does I should be there, too."

Christian’s eyes widen. He looks dumbfounded.

"He made a pass at you."

"Christian, that was weeks ago. He was drunk, I was drunk, you saved the day – it won’t happen again. He’s no Jack, for heaven’s sake."

"Ethan’s there. He can keep him company."

"He wants to see me, not Ethan."

Christian scowls at me.

"He’s just a friend." My voice is emphatic.

"I don’t like it."

So what? Jeez, he’s irritating sometimes. I take a deep breath. "He’s my friend, Christian. I haven’t seen him since his show. And that was too brief. I know you don’t have any friends, apart from that god-awful woman, but I don’t moan about you seeing her," I snap.

Christian blinks, shocked. "I want to see him. I’ve been a poor friend to him." My subconscious is alarmed. Are you stamping your little foot? Steady now!

Gray eyes blaze at me. "Is that what you think?" he breathes.

"Think about what?"

"Elena. You’d rather I didn’t see her?"

Holy cow. "Exactly. I’d rather you didn’t see her."

"Why didn’t you say?"

"Because it’s not my place to say. You think she’s your only friend." I shrug in exasperation. He really doesn’t get it. How did this turn into a conversation about her? I don’t even want to think about her. I try to steer us back to Jose. "Just as it’s not your place to say if I can or can’t see Jose. Don’t you see that?"

Christian gazes at me, perplexed, I think. Oh, what is he thinking?

"He can stay here, I suppose," he mutters. "I can keep an eye on him." He sounds petulant.

Hallelujah!

"Thank you! You know, if I am going to live here, too…" I trail off. Christian nods.

He knows what I’m trying to say. "It’s not like you haven’t got the space." I smirk.

His lips quirk up slowly. "Are you smirking at me, Miss Steele?"

"Most definitely, Mr. Grey." I get up just in case his palms start twitching, clear our plates, and then load them into the dishwasher.

"Gail will do that."

"I’ve done it now." I stand up and gaze at him. He’s watching me intently.

"I have to work for a while," he says apologetically.

"Cool. I’ll find something to do."

"Come here," he orders, but his voice is soft and seductive, his eyes heated. I don’t hesitate to walk into his arms, clasping him around his neck as he perches on his bar stool.