Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 12
“Soyoudecidedonsomeexercise,”hebreathes,hisvoicesoftandmelodious.Hisfingersgentlytuckmyhairbehindmyear.“Why,Anastasia?”Hisfingerscirclemyear,andverysoftly,rhythmically,hetugsmyearlobe.It’ssosexual.
“Ineededtimetothink,”Iwhisper.I’malldeer/headlights,moth/flame,bird/snake…andheknowsexactlywhathe’sdoingtome.
“Thinkaboutwhat,Anastasia?”
“You.”
“Andyoudecidedthatitwasniceknowingme?Doyoumeanknowingmeinthebiblicalsense?”
Oh,shit.Iflush.
“Ididn’tthinkyouwerefamiliarwiththeBible.”
“IwenttoSundayschool,Anastasia.Ittaughtmeagreatdeal.”
“Idon’trememberreadingaboutnippleclampsintheBible.Perhapsyouweretaughtfromamoderntranslation.”
Hislipsarchwithatraceofasmile,andmyeyesaredrawntohismouth.
“Well,IthoughtIshouldcomeandremindyouhowniceitwasknowingme.”
Holycrap.Istareathimopenmouthed,andhisfingersmovefrommyeartomychin.
“Whatdoyousaytothat,MissSteele?”
Hiseyesblazeatme,hischallengeintrinsicinhisstare.Hislipsareparted—he’swaiting,coiledtostrike.Desire—acute,liquid,andsmoldering—combustsdeepinmybelly.Itakepreemptiveactionandlaunchmyselfathim.Somehowhemoves,Ihavenoideahow,andintheblinkofaneyeI’monthebed,pinnedbeneathhim,myarmsstretchedoutandheldabovemyhead,hisfreehandclutchingmyface,andhismouthfindingmine.
Histongueisinmymouth,claimingandpossessingme,andIrevelintheforceheuses.
