Fifty Shades Freed (Fifty Shades #3)(59)
Author: E.L. James

"Your happy ever after," I whisper.

She nods sadly.

"Maybe you should talk to him. Try and find some alone time here. Find out what’s eating him."

Who’s eating him, my subconscious snarls. I slap her down, shocked at the waywardness of my own thoughts.

"Perhaps you guys could go for a walk tomorrow morning?"

"We’ll see."

"Kate, I hate seeing you like this."

She smiles weakly, and I lean over to hug her. I resolve not to mention Gia, though I might mention it to the manwhore himself. How can he mess with my friend’s affections like this?

Mia returns, and we move on to safer territory.

The fire hisses and spits sparks on to the hearth as I feed it the last log. We’re almost out of wood. Even though it’s summer, the fire is very welcome on this wet day.

"Mia, do you know where the wood for the fire is kept?" I ask as she sips her daiquiri.

"I think it’s in the garage."

"I’ll go find some. It’ll give me an opportunity to explore."

The rain has eased off when I venture outside and head to the threecar garage adjoining the house. The side door is unlocked and I enter, switching on the light to fight the gloom. The fluorescent strips ping noisily to life.

There’s a car in the garage, and I realize it’s the Audi I saw Elliot in this afternoon. There are also two snowmobiles. But what really grabs my attention are the two trail bikes, both 125cc. Memories of Ethan bravely endeavoring to teach me how to ride last summer flash through my mind. Unconsciously, I rub my arm where I badly bruised it in a fall.

"You ride?" Elliot asks from behind me.

I whirl around. "You’re back."

"It would appear so." He grins, and I realize that Christian might say the same thing to me – but without the huge, heart-melting grin.

"Well?" he asks.

Manwhore!

"Sort of."

"Do you want a go?"

I snort. "Um, no . . . I don’t think Christian would be very happy if I did."

"Christian’s not here." Elliot smirks – oh, it’s a family trait – and waves his arm to indicate we’re alone. He strolls toward the nearest bike and swings a long denimed leg over the saddle, sitting astride and grabbing the handlebars.

"Christian has, um . . . issues about my safety. I shouldn’t."

"You always do what he says?" Elliot has a wicked sparkle in his baby-blue eyes and I see a glimmer of the bad boy . . . the bad boy Kate has fallen in love with. The bad boy from Detroit.

"No." I arch an admonishing brow at him. "But I’m trying to put that right. He has enough to worry about without adding me to the mix. Is he back?"

"I don’t know."

"You didn’t go fishing?"

Elliot shakes his head. "I had some business to deal with in town."

Business! Holy shit – groomed blonde business! I inhale sharply and gape at him.

"If you don’t want to ride, what are you doing in the garage?" Elliot is intrigued.

"I’m looking for wood for the fire."

"There you are. Oh, Elliot – you’re back." Kate interrupts us.

"Hey, baby." He smiles broadly.

"Catch anything?"

I scrutinize Elliot’s reaction. "No. I had a few things to take care of in town." And for one brief moment, I see a flash of uncertainty cross his face.

Oh shit.

"I came out to see what was keeping Ana." Kate looks at us, confused.

"We were just shooting the breeze," Elliot says, and the tension crackles between them.

We all pause as we hear a car pull up outside. Oh! Christian’s back. Thank heavens. The garage door opener whirrs loudly into action, startling us all, and the door slowly lifts to reveal Christian and Ethan unloading a black flatbed truck. Christian stops when he sees us all standing in the garage.

"Garage band?" he asks sardonically as he wanders in, heading straight for me.

I grin. I am relieved to see him. Beneath his wax coat he’s wearing the overalls I sold him at Claytons.

"Hi," he says looking quizzically at me, ignoring both Kate and Elliot.

"Hi. Nice overalls."

"Lots of pockets. Very handy for fishing." His voice is soft and seductive, for my ears only, and when he gazes down at me his expression is hot.

I flush, and he smiles a huge, no-holds-barred, all-for-me smile.

"You’re wet," I murmur.

"It was raining. What are you guys doing in the garage?" Finally he acknowledges that we are not alone.

"Ana came to fetch some wood," Elliot smirks. Somehow he manages to make that sentence sound smutty. "I tried to tempt her to take a ride." He is master of the double entendre.

Christian’s face falls, and my heart stills.

"She said no. That you wouldn’t like it," Elliot adds kindly – and innuendo-free.

Christian’s gray gaze swings back to me. "Did she, now?" he murmurs.

"Listen, I’m all for standing around discussing what Ana did next, but shall we go back inside?" Kate snaps. She stoops down, snatches up two logs, and turns on her heel, stomping toward the door. Oh shit. Kate is mad – but I know it’s not at me. Elliot sighs and, without a word, follows her out. I gaze after them, but Christian distracts me.

"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 his hand reaches up to tuck a stray lock of 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 br**sts, 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-fucked grin. I bound out of bed.