Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 3
“Whydon’tyouchooseatablewhileIgetthedrinks?Whatwouldyoulike?”heasks,politeasever.
“I’llhave…um—EnglishBreakfasttea,bagout.”
Heraiseshiseyebrows.
“Nocoffee?”
“I’mnotkeenoncoffee.”
Hesmiles.
“Okay,bagouttea.Sugar?”
Foramoment,I’mstunned,thinkingit’sanendearment,butfortunatelymysubconsciouskicksinwithpursedlips.No,stupid—doyoutakesugar?
“Nothanks.”Istaredownatmyknottedfingers.
“Anythingtoeat?”
“Nothankyou.”Ishakemyhead,andheheadstothecounter.
Isurreptitiouslygazeathimfrombeneathmylashesashestandsinlinewaitingtobeserved.Icouldwatchhimallday…he’stall,broadshouldered,andslim,andthewaythosepantshangfromhiships…Ohmy.Onceortwiceherunshislong,gracefulfingersthroughhisnowdrybutstilldisorderlyhair.Hmm…I’dliketodothat.Thethoughtcomesunbiddenintomymind,andmyfaceflames.Ibitemylipandstaredownatmyhandsagain,notlikingwheremywaywardthoughtsareheaded.
“Pennyforyourthoughts?”Greyisback,startlingme.
Igocrimson.Iwasjustthinkingaboutrunningmyfingersthroughyourhairandwonderingifitwouldfeelsofttotouch.Ishakemyhead.He’scarryingatray,whichhesetsdownonthesmall,roundbirch-veneertable.Hehandsmeacupandsaucer,asmallteapot,andasideplatebearingaloneteabaglabeledTWININGSENGLISHBREAKFAST—myfavorite.Hehasacoffeethatbearsawonderfulleafpatternimprintedinthemilk.Howdotheydothat?Iwonderidly.
