Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 18
Abreathtakingariaisplayingonthemusicsystem,swirlingaroundhim,cocooninghim,fillingtheroomwithasweet,soulfulsong.Foramoment,helooksserene.Heturnsandglancesatuswhenweenterandsmileswarmlyatme.
“Areyoudone?”heasksasifhe’sgenuinelyinterested.HepointstheremoteatasleekwhiteboxbeneaththefireplacethathouseshisiPod,andtheexquisitemelodyfadesbutcontinuesinthebackground.Standing,hestrollstowardus.
“Yes,Mr.Grey.Lookafterher;she’sabeautiful,brightyoungwoman.”
Christianistakenaback—asamI.Whataninappropriatethingforadoctortosay.Isshegivinghimsomekindofnot-so-subtlewarning?Christianrecovershimself.
“Ifullyintendto,”hemutters,bemused.
Gazingathim,Ishrug,embarrassed.
“I’llsendyoumybill,”shesayscrisplyassheshakeshishand.
“Goodday,andgoodlucktoyou,Ana.”Shesmiles,hereyescrinkling,asweshakehands.
Taylorappearsfromnowheretoescortherthroughthedoubledoorsandouttotheelevator.Howdoeshedothat?Wheredoeshelurk?
“Howwasthat?”Christianasks.
“Fine,thankyou.ShesaidthatIhadtoabstainfromallsexualactivityforthenextfourweeks.”
Christian’smouthdropsopeninshock,andIcannotkeepastraightfaceanylongerandgrinathimlikeanidiot.
“Gotcha!”
Henarrowshiseyes,andIimmediatelystoplaughing.Infact,helooksratherforbidding.Oh,shit.Mysubconsciousquailsinthecornerasalltheblooddrainsfrommyface,andIimaginehimputtingmeacrosshiskneeagain.
“Gotcha!”hesays,andsmirks.
