Пятьдесят оттенков серого

           ”

           Notfinishedwithmeyet.HolyMoses.There’snowayIcandoanymore.Iamutterlyspentandfightinganoverwhelmingdesiretosleep.I’mleaningagainsthischest,myeyesareclosed,andhe’swrappedaroundme—armsandlegs—andIfeel…safe,andohsocomfortable.Willheletmesleep,perchancetodream?Mymouthquirksupatthesillythought,andturningmyfaceintoChristian’schest,Iinhalehisuniquescentandnuzzlehim,butimmediatelyhetenses…ohcrap.Iopenmyeyesandglanceupathim.He’sstaringdownatme.

           “Don’t,”hebreathesinwarning.

           Iflushandlookbackathischestinlonging.Iwanttorunmytonguethroughthehair,kisshim,andforthefirsttime,Inoticehehasafewrandomandfaintsmall,roundscarsdottedaroundhischest.Chickenpox?Measles?Ithinkabsently.

           “Kneelbythedoor,”heordersashesitsback,puttinghishandsonhisknees,effectivelyreleasingme.Nolongerwarm,thetemperatureofhisvoicehasdroppedseveraldegrees.

           Istumbleclumsilyupintoastandingpositionandscootovertothedoorandkneelasinstructed.I’mshakyandvery,verytired,monumentallyconfused.WhowouldhavethoughtIcouldhavefoundsuchgratificationinthisroom.Whocouldhavethoughtitwouldbesoexhausting?Mylimbsaredeliciouslyheavy,sated.MyinnergoddesshasaDONOTDISTURBsignontheoutsideofherroom.

           Christianismovingaboutintheperipheryofmyvision.Myeyesstarttodroop.

           “Boringyou,amI,MissSteele?”

           Ijumpawake,andChristianisstandinginfrontofme,hisarmscrossed,glaringdownatme.