Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 3
Hetugsthehandthathe’sholdingsohardthatIfallbackagainsthimjustasacyclistwhipspast,narrowlymissingme,headingthewrongwayupthisone-waystreet.
Itallhappenssofast—oneminuteI’mfalling,thenextI’minhisarmsandhe’sholdingmetightlyagainsthischest.Iinhalehisclean,wholesomescent.Hesmellsoffreshlylaunderedlinenandsomeexpensivebodywash.It’sintoxicating.Iinhaledeeply.
“Areyouokay?”hewhispers.Hehasonearmaroundme,claspingmetohim,whilethefingersofhisotherhandsoftlytracemyface,gentlyprobing,examiningme.Histhumbbrushesmylowerlip,andhisbreathhitches.He’sstaringintomyeyes,andIholdhisanxious,burninggazeforamoment,ormaybeit’sforever…buteventually,myattentionisdrawntohisbeautifulmouth.Andforthefirsttimeintwenty-oneyears,Iwanttobekissed.Iwanttofeelhismouthonmine.
