He opens his eyes and gazes at me for what feels like an eternity. He smiles as relief slowly illuminates his face. "No, I don't think you would." He caresses my face with the back of his knuckles, gazing at me in wonder. "God, you're strong, Mrs. Grey. I love you so much."
He leans forward and kisses my forehead. "I didn't know I could."
"Oh, Christian," I whisper, trying to contain my emotions.
"Now, that's the end of your bedtime story."
"That's some bedside story . . . "
He smiles wistfully, but I think he's relieved. "How's your head?"
"My head?" Actually, it's about to explode with all you've told me!
"Does it hurt?"
"No."
"Good. I think you should sleep now."
Sleep! How can I sleep after all that?
"Sleep," he says sternly. "You need it."
I pout. "I have one question."
"Oh? What?" He eyes me warily.
"Why have you suddenly become all . . . forthcoming, for want of a better word?"
He frowns.
"You're telling me all this, when getting information out of you is normally a pretty harrowing and trying experience."
"It is?
"You know it is."
"Why am I being forthcoming? I can't say. Seeing you practically dead on the cold concrete, maybe. The fact I'm going to be a father. I don't know. You said you wanted to know, and I don't want Elena to come between us. She can't. She's the past, and I've said that to you so many times."
"If she hadn't made a pass at you . . . would you still be friends?"
"That's more than one question."
"Sorry. You don't have to tell me." I flush. "You've already volunteered more than I ever thought you would."
His gaze softens. "No, I don't think so, but she's felt like unfinished business since my birthday. She stepped over the line, and I'm done. Please, believe me. I'm not going to see her again. You said she's a hard limit for you. That's a term I understand," he says with quiet sincerity.
Okay. I'm going to let this go now. My subconscious sags into her armchair. Finally!
"Goodnight, Christian. Thank you for the enlightening bedtime story." I lean over to kiss him, and our lips touch briefly, but he pulls back when I try to deepen the kiss.
"Don't," he whispers. "I am desperate to make love to you."
"Then do."
"No, you need to rest, and it's late. Go to sleep." He leans over and switches off the bedside light, plunging us into darkness.
"I love you unconditionally, Christian," I murmur as I cuddle into his side.
"I know," he whispers, and I sense his shy smile.
I wake with a start. Light is flooding the room, and Christian is not in bed. I glance at the clock and see it's seven fifty-three. I take a deep breath and wince as my ribs smart though not as badly as yesterday. I think I could go to work. Work - Yes. I want to go to work. It's Monday, and I spent all of yesterday lounging about in bed. Christian only let me go out briefly to see Ray. Honestly, he's still such a control freak. I smile fondly. My control freak. He's been attentive and loving and chatty . . . and hands-off since I arrived home. I scowl. I am going to have to do something about this. My head doesn't hurt, the pain around my ribs has eased - though, admittedly, laughing has to be undertaken with caution - but I'm frustrated. I think this is the longest I've gone without sex since . . . well, since the first time. I think we've both recovered our equilibrium. Christian is much more relaxed; his long bedtime story seems to have laid some ghosts to rest, for him and for me. We'll see.
I shower quickly, and once I'm dry, I browse carefully through my clothes. I want something sexy. Something that might galvanize Christian into action. Who would have thought such an insatiable man could actually exercise so much self-control? I don't really want to dwell on how Christian learned such discipline over his body. We haven't spoken of the Bitch Troll once since his confessional. I hope we never do. To me she's dead and buried.
I choose an almost indecently short black skirt and a white silk blouse with a frill. I slide on thigh-highs with lacy tops and my black Louboutin pumps. A little mascara and lip gloss for a natural look, and after a ferocious brushing, I leave my hair loose. Yes. This should do it. Christian