Chapter 17

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           Thecandleflameistoohot.Itflickersanddancesintheover-warmbreeze,abreezethatbringsnorespitefromtheheat.Softgossamerwingsfluttertoandfrointhedark,sprinklingdustyscalesinthecircleoflight.I’mstrugglingtoresist,butI’mdrawn.Andthenit’ssobright,andIamflyingtooclosetothesun,dazzledbythelight,friedandmeltingfromtheheat,wearyinmyendeavorstostayairborne.Iamsowarm.Theheat…it’sstifling,overpowering.Itwakesme.

           Iopenmyeyes,andI’mdrapedinChristianGrey.He’swrappedaroundmelikeavictoryflag.He’sfastasleepwithhisheadonmychest,hisarmoverme,holdingmeclose,oneofhislegsthrownoverandhookedaroundbothofmine.He’ssuffocatingmewithhisbodyheat,andhe’sheavy.Itakeamomenttoabsorbthathe’sstillinmybedandfastasleep,andit’slightoutside—morning.Hehasspentthewholenightwithme.

           Myrightarmisstretched,nodoubtinsearchofacoolspot,andasIprocessthefactthathe’sstillwithme,thethoughtoccursthatIcantouchhim.He’sasleep.Tentatively,Iliftmyhandandrunthetipsofmyfingersdownhisback.Deepinhisthroat,Ihearafaint,distressedgroan,andhestirs.Henuzzlesmychest,inhalingdeeplyashewakes.Sleepy,blinkinggrayeyesmeetminebeneathhistousledmopofhair.

           “Goodmorning,”hemumbles,andfrowns.“Jesus,eveninmysleepI’mdrawntoyou.”Hemovesslowly,unpeelinghislimbsfrommeashegetshisbearings.Ibecomeawareofhiserectionagainstmyhip.