Пятьдесят оттенков серого

           Whowouldhavethought…?ChristianGreyatIHOP.

           IT’S8:30A.M.BUTquietintherestaurant.Itsmellsofsweetbatter,friedfood,anddisinfectant.Hmm…notsuchanenticingaroma.Christianleadsmetoabooth.

           “Iwouldneverhavepicturedyouhere,”Isayasweslideintoabooth.

           “Mydadusedtobringustooneofthesewhenevermymomwentawaytoamedicalconference.Itwasoursecret.”Hesmilesatme,eyesdancing,thenpicksupamenu,runningahandthroughhiswaywardhair.

           Oh,Iwanttorunmyhandsthroughthathair.Ipickupamenuandexamineit.IrealizeI’mstarving.

           “IknowwhatIwant,”hebreathes,hisvoicelowandhusky.

           Iglanceupathim,andhe’sstaringatmeinthatwaythattightensallthemusclesinmybellyandtakesmybreathaway,hiseyesdarkandsmoldering.Holyshit.Igazeathim,mybloodsinginginmyveins,answeringhiscall.

           “Iwantwhatyouwant,”Iwhisper.

           Heinhalessharply.

           “Here?”heaskssuggestively,raisinganeyebrowatme,smilingwickedly,histeethtrappingthetipofhistongue.

           Ohmy…sexinIHOP.Hisexpressionchanges,growingdarker.

           “Don’tbiteyourlip,”heorders.“Nothere,notnow.”Hiseyeshardenmomentarily,andforamoment,helookssodeliciouslydangerous.“IfIcan’thaveyouhere,don’ttemptme.”

           “Hi,myname’sLeandra.WhatcanIgetforyou…er…folks…er…today,thismornin’…?”Hervoicetrailsoff,stumblingoverherwordsasshegetsaneyefulofMr.Beautifuloppositeme.