Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 4
Whatishisproblem?Apartfromasillydrunkgirlcallinghiminthemiddleofthenightsohethinkssheneedsrescuing.Anditturnsoutshedoesfromherover-amorousfriend.Thenseeingherbeingviolentlyillathisfeet.Oh,Ana…areyouevergoingtolivethisdown?Mysubconsciousisfigurativelytuttingandglaringatmeoverherhalf-moonspecs.Iswayalittle,andheputshishandonmyshouldertosteadyme.IdoasI’mtoldanddrinktheentireglass.Itmakesmefeelqueasy.Takingtheglassfromme,heplacesitonthebar.Inoticethroughablurwhathe’swearing:aloosewhitelinenshirt,snugjeans,blackConversesneakers,andadarkpinstripedjacket.Hisshirtisunbuttonedatthetop,andIseeasprinklingofhairinthegap.Inmygroggyframeofmind,helooksyummy.
Hetakesmyhandoncemore.Holycow—he’sleadingmeontothedancefloor.Shit.Idonotdance.Hecansensemyreluctance,andunderthecoloredlightsIseehisamused,sardonicsmile.Hegivesmyhandasharptug,andI’minhisarmsagain,andhestartstomove,takingmewithhim.Boy,hecandance,andIcan’tbelievethatI’mfollowinghimstepforstep.Maybeit’sbecauseI’mdrunkthatIcankeepup.He’sholdingmetightagainsthim,hisbodyagainstmine…ifhewasn’tclutchingmesotightly,I’msureIwouldswoonathisfeet.Inthebackofmymind,mymother’soften-recitedwarningcomestome:Nevertrustamanwhocandance.
Hemovesusthroughthecrowdedthrongofdancerstotheothersideofthedancefloor,andwearebesideKateandElliot,Christian’sbrother
