Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 17
Istandandmakemywayovertothekitchenareaonthepretenseofunpackingoneofthecrates.Theyaregoingtogeticky.
“I’llseeifIcanescape,”hepromises.
“I’llcomedownwithyou.”Katesmiles.
“Laters,Ana.”Elliotgrins.
“Bye,Elliot.SayhitoChristianfromme.”
“Justhi?”Hiseyebrowsshootupsuggestively.
“Yes.”Iflush.Hewinksatme,andIgocrimsonashefollowsKateoutoftheapartment.
ElliotisadorableandsodifferentfromChristian.He’swarm,open,physical,veryphysical,toophysical,withKate.Theycanbarelykeeptheirhandsoffeachother—tobehonestit’sembarrassing—andIampeagreenwithenvy.
Katereturnsabouttwentyminuteslaterwithpizza,andwesit,surroundedbycrates,inournewopenspace,eatingstraightfromthebox.Kate’sdadhasdoneusproud.Theapartmentisnotlarge,butit’sbigenough,threebedroomsandalargelivingspacethatlooksoutontoPikePlaceMarketitself.It’sallsolidwoodfloorsandredbrick,andthekitchentopsaresmoothconcrete,veryutilitarian,verynow.Webothlovethatwewillbeintheheartofthecity.
Ateight,theentry-phonebuzzes.Kateleapsup—andmyheartleapsintomymouth.
“Delivery,MissSteele,MissKavanagh.”Disappointmentflowsfreelyandunexpectedlythroughmyveins.It’snotChristian.
“Secondfloor,apartmenttwo.”
Katebuzzesthedeliveryboyin.HismouthfallsopenwhenheseesKate,alltightjeans,T-shirt,andhairpiledhighwithescapingtendrils.Shehasthateffectonmen.Heholdsabottleofchampagnewithahelicopter-shapedballoonattached.
