Пятьдесят оттенков серого

           Whycan’tyoukissmelikethat?ElliotcontinuestokissKate,sweepingheroffherfeetanddippingherinadramaticholdsothatherhairtouchesthegroundashekissesherhard.

           “Laters,baby.”Hegrins.

           Katejustmelts.I’veneverseenhermeltbefore—thewords“comely”and“compliant”cometomind.CompliantKate.Boy,Elliotmustbegood.Christianrollshiseyesandstaresdownatme,hisexpressionunreadable,althoughmaybehe’smildlyamused.Hetucksastraystrandofmyhairthathasworkeditswayfreefrommyponytailbehindmyear.Mybreathhitchesatthecontact,andIleanmyheadintohisfingers.Hiseyessoften,andherunshisthumbacrossmylowerlip.Mybloodsearsinmyveins.Andalltooquickly,histouchisgone.

           “Laters,baby,”hemurmurs,andIhavetolaughbecauseit’ssounlikehim.ButeventhoughIknowhe’sbeingirreverent,theendearmenttugsatsomethingdeepinsideme.

           “I’llpickyouupateight.”Heturnstoleave,openingthefrontdoorandsteppingoutontotheporch.ElliotfollowshimtothecarbutturnsandblowsKateanotherkiss,andIfeelanunwelcomepangofjealousy.

           “So,didyou?”Kateasksaswewatchthemclimbintothecaranddriveoff,theburningcuriosityevidentinhervoice.

           “No,”Isnapirritably,hopingthatwillhaltthequestions.Weheadbackintotheapartment.“Youobviouslydid,though.”Ican’tcontainmyenvy.Katealwaysmanagestoensnaremen.Sheisirresistible,beautiful,sexy,funny,forward…allthethingsthatI’mnot.Butheransweringgrinisinfectious.