Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 4
Myvisionhasbeenaffected,andI’mreallyseeingdoubleofeverythinglikeinoldrerunsofTomandJerrycartoons.IthinkI’mgoingtobesick.WhydidIletmyselfgetthismessedup?
“Ana,”Joséhasjoinedme.“Youokay?”
“IthinkI’vejusthadabittoomuchtodrink.”Ismileweaklyathim.
“Me,too,”hemurmurs,andhisdarkeyesareregardingmeintently.“Doyouneedahand?”heasksandstepscloser,puttinghisarmaroundme.
“José,I’mokay.I’vegotthis.”Itrytopushhimawayratherfeebly.
“Ana,please,”hewhispers,andnowhe’sholdingmeinhisarms,pullingmeclose.
“José,whatareyoudoing?”
“YouknowIlikeyouAna,please.”Hehasonehandatthesmallofmybackholdingmeagainsthim,theotheratmychintippingbackmyhead.Holyfuck…he’sgoingtokissme.
“No,José,stop—no.”Ipushhim,buthe’sawallofhardmuscle,andIcannotshifthim.Hishandhasslippedintomyhair,andhe’sholdingmyheadinplace.
“Please,Ana,cariño,”hewhispersagainstmylips.Hisbreathissoftandsmellstoosweet—ofmargaritaandbeer.Hegentlytrailskissesalongmyjawuptothesideofmymouth.Ifeelpanicky,drunk,andoutofcontrol.Thefeelingissuffocating.
“José,no,”Iplead.Idon’twantthis.Youaremyfriend,andIthinkI’mgoingtothrowup.
“Ithinktheladysaidno,”avoiceinthedarksaysquietly.Holyshit!ChristianGrey,he’shere.How?Joséreleasesme.
“Grey,”hesaystersely.IglanceanxiouslyupatChristian.He’sgloweringatJosé,andhe’sfurious.Crap.
