Пятьдесят оттенков серого

           Hisgrinwidens,andhereachesoverandrunshisthumbdownmycheekandacrossmylowerlip.

           “Breathe,Anastasia,”hewhispersthenstandsbackup.“Breakfastwillbehereinfifteenminutes.Youmustbefamished.”Heheadsintothebathroomandclosesthedoor.

           IletoutthebreaththatI’vebeenholding.Whyishesodamnedattractive?RightnowIwanttogoandjoinhimintheshower.Ihaveneverfeltthiswayaboutanyone.Myhormonesareracing.Myskintingleswherehisthumbtracedovermyfaceandlowerlip.I’msquirmingwithaneedy,achy…discomfort.Idon’tunderstandthisreaction.Hmm…Desire.Thisisdesire.Thisiswhatitfeelslike.

           Iliebackonthesoftfeather-filledpillows.Ifyouweremine.Ohmy—whatwouldIdotobehis?He’stheonlymanwhohaseversetthebloodracingthroughmybody.Yethe’ssoantagonizing,too;he’sdifficult,complicated,andconfusing.Oneminuteherebuffsme,thenexthesendsmefourteen-thousand-dollarbooks,thenhetracksmelikeastalker.Andforallthat,Ihavespentthenightinhishotelsuite,andIfeelsafe.Protected.Hecaresenoughtocomeandrescuemefromsomemistakenlyperceiveddanger.He’snotadarkknightatallbutawhiteknightinshining,dazzlingarmor—aclassicromantichero—SirGawainorSirLancelot.

           Iscrambleoutofhisbedfranticallysearchingformyjeans.Heemergesfromthebathroomwetandglisteningfromtheshower,stillunshaven,withjustatowelaroundhiswaist,andthereamI—allbarelegsandawkwardgawkiness.He’ssurprisedtoseemeoutofbed.