Chapter 9

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           Lightfillstheroom,coaxingmefromdeepsleeptowakefulness.Istretchoutandopenmyeyes.It’sabeautifulMaymorning,Seattleatmyfeet.Wow,whataview.Besideme,ChristianGreyisfastasleep.Wow,whataview.I’msurprisedhe’sstillinbed.He’sfacingme,andIhaveanunprecedentedopportunitytostudyhim.Hislovelyfacelooksyounger,relaxedinsleep.Hissculptured,poutylipsarepartedslightly,andhisshiny,cleanhairisagloriousmess.Howcouldanyonelookthisgoodandstillbelegal?Irememberhisroomupstairs…perhapshe’snotlegal.Ishakemyhead,somuchtothinkabout.It’stemptingtoreachoutandtouchhim,butlikeasmallchild,he’ssolovelywhenhe’sasleep.Idon’thavetoworryaboutwhatI’msaying,whathe’ssaying,whatplanshehas,especiallyhisplansforme.

           Icouldgazeathimallday,butIhaveneeds—bathroomneeds.Slippingoutofbed,Ifindhiswhiteshirtonthefloorandshrugiton.Iwalkthroughadoorthinkingthatitmightbethebathroom,butI’minavastwalk-inclosetasbigasmybedroom.Linesandlinesofexpensivesuits,shirts,shoes,andties.Howcananyoneneedthismanyclothes?Itutwithdisapproval.Actually,Kate’swardrobeprobablyrivalsthis.Kate!Ohno.Ididn’tthinkaboutherallevening.Iwassupposedtotexther.Crap.I’mgoingtobeintrouble.Iwonderbrieflyhowshe’sgettingonwithElliot.

           Returningtothebedroom,Christianisstillasleep.Itrytheotherdoor.It’sthebathroom,andit’sbiggerthanmybedroom.