Пятьдесят оттенков серого

           IknowI’mmeanttosayyes,butIdon’ttrusthim.BeforeIcananswer,however,he’sonhisfeetandholdinghishandouttome.Iplacemyhandinhis,andIfeelallthemusclesclenchdeepinmybelly,respondingtohisdark,hungrygaze.

           “Excuseme,”IsaytoMr.Grey,andfollowChristianoutofthediningroom.

           Heleadsmethroughthehallwayandintothekitchen,whereMiaandGracearestackingthedishwasher.EuropeanPigtailsisnowheretobeseen.

           “I’mgoingtoshowAnastasiathebackyard,”Christiansaysinnocentlytohismother.ShewavesusoutwithasmileasMiaheadsbacktothediningroom.

           Westepoutontoagrayflagstonepatioarealitbyrecessedlightsintherock.Thereareshrubsingraystonetubsandachicmetaltableandchairssetupinonecorner.Christianwalkspastthose,upsomesteps,andontoavastlawnthatleadsdowntothebay…ohmy—it’sbeautiful.Seattletwinklesonthehorizonandthecool,brightMaymoonetchesasparklingsilverpathacrossthewatertowardajettywheretwoboatsaremoored.Besidethejettystandsaboathouse.Itissopicturesque,sopeaceful.Istandandgapeforamoment.

           Christianpullsmebehindhim,andmyheelssinkintothesoftgrass.

           “Stop,please.”Iamstumblinginhiswake.

           Hestopsandgazesatme,hisexpressionunfathomable.

           “Myheels.Ineedtotakemyshoesoff.”

           “Don’tbother,”hesays,andhebendsdownandscoopsmeoverhisshoulder.Isquealloudlywithshockedsurprise,andhegivesmearingingslaponmybehind.

           “Keepyourvoicedown,”hegrowls.

           Ohno…thisisnotgood