Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 11
MaybeImisledhimintheinterview.I’mshy,yes…butsubmissive?IletKatebullyme—isthatthesame?Andthosesoftlimits,jeez.Mymindboggles,butI’mreassuredthattheyareupfordiscussion.
Iwanderbacktomybedroom.Thisistoomuchtothinkabout.Ineedaclearhead—afreshmorningapproachtotheproblem.Iputtheoffendingdocumentsinmybackpack.Tomorrow…tomorrowisanotherday.Clamberingintobed,Iswitchoffthelightandliestaringupattheceiling.Oh,IwishI’dnevermethim.Myinnergoddessshakesherheadatme.SheandIknowit’salie.IhaveneverfeltasaliveasIdonow.
Iclosemyeyes,andIdriftintoaheavysleepwithoccasionaldreamsoffour-posterbedsandshacklesandintensegrayeyes.
KATEWAKESMETHEnextday.
“Ana,I’vebeencallingyou.Youmusthavebeenoutcold.”
Myeyesreluctantlyopen.She’snotjustup—she’sbeenforarun.Iglanceatmyalarm.It’seightinthemorning.HolyMoses,I’vesleptforasolidninehours.
“Whatisit?”Imumblesleepily.
“There’samanherewithadeliveryforyou.Youhavetosignforit.”
“What?”
“Comeon.It’sbig.Itlooksinteresting.”Shehopsfromfoottofootexcitedlyandboundsbackintothelivingroom.Iclamberoutofbedandgrabmyrobehangingonthebackofmydoor.Asmartyoungmanwithaponytailisstandinginourlivingroomclaspingalargebox.
“Hi,”Imumble.
“I’llmakeyousometea.”Katescuttlesofftothekitchen.
“MissSteele?”
AndIimmediatelyknowwhotheparcelisfrom.
“Yes,”Ianswercautiously.
