Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,121

keeping me safe.

Ana is sprawled on my chest. I think it’s the end of The X-Files.

“You know, we completely bypassed third base.” Her fingers trace a pattern on my chest.

I chuckle. “Next time.” I nuzzle her hair, inhaling her magical scent, and kiss her head. The end credits roll for The X-Files and, using the remote, I switch the sound back on.

“You liked that show?” Ana asks.

“When I was a kid.”

Ana goes quiet.

“You?” I ask.

“Before my time.”

“You’re so young.” I hug her tightly. “I like making out with you, Mrs. Grey.”

“Likewise, Mr. Grey.” She kisses my chest and the commercials start on the TV.

Why are we watching these?

Because I like being here, with her lying on me.

This is married life.

I could get used to this…

“It’s been a heavenly three weeks,” she says airily. “Car chases and fires and psycho ex-bosses notwithstanding. Like being in our own private bubble.”

“Hmm.” I tighten my arms around her. “I’m not sure I’m ready to share you with the rest of the world yet.”

“Back to reality tomorrow.” She sounds a little sad.

“Security will be tight—”

Ana silences me with her index finger. “I know. I’ll be good. I promise.” She leans up on her elbows, scrutinizing me. “Why were you shouting at Sawyer?”

“Because we were followed.”

“That wasn’t Sawyer’s fault.”

“They should never have let you get so far in front. They know that.”

“That wasn’t—”

“Enough.” Sawyer fucked up and he knows it. “This is not up for discussion, Anastasia. It’s a fact, and they won’t let it happen again.”

“Okay,” she says. “Did Ryan catch up with the woman in the Dodge?”

“No. And I’m not convinced it was a woman.”

“Oh?”

“Sawyer saw someone with their hair tied back, but it was a brief look. He assumed it was a woman. Now, given that you’ve identified that fucker, maybe it was him. He wore his hair like that.”

That piece of shit is dead if I ever get ahold of him.

I run my hand down Ana’s back, my fingers stroking her skin. Grounding me. Calming me. “If anything happened to you.” The thought is unbearable.

“I know. I feel the same about you.” She shivers.

“Come. You’re getting cold.” I sit up, taking her with me. “Let’s go to bed. We can cover third base there.”

Monday, August 22, 2011

To our relief, there are no photographers outside SIP when we pull up in the Q7. I’m hoping that the intense press scrutiny and intrusion into our lives will now ease off. Ana gathers up her briefcase when Ryan stops the car, and I can’t resist one more try. “You know you don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” she answers quietly, so Ryan and Sawyer can’t hear. “But I want to. You know this.” Her sweet kiss does little to mollify me. We both have to go back to reality. Don’t we?

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and I realize I’m frowning.

I’m not going to see her until this evening. We’ve spent the last three weeks or so in each other’s company, and it’s been the best time of my life. Sawyer climbs out of the car to open her door, and I seize my opportunity. “I’ll miss having you to myself.”

She places her palm on my cheek. “Me, too.” Her lips brush mine. “It was a wonderful honeymoon. Thank you.”

It was for me as well, Ana.

“Go to work, Mrs. Grey.”

“You, too, Mr. Grey.”

Sawyer opens her door, she squeezes my hand, and I watch both of them head into the building.

“Take me to Grey House,” I instruct Ryan, and stare out of the window. It’s a cooler, cloudy day—a precise match for my mood. I’m strangely out of sorts. Perhaps this is what Ana was feeling yesterday, though she never managed to articulate it to me.

If this was what you were experiencing, Ana, I get it. It’s a case of the post-honeymoon blues.

As Ryan and I walk up to the entrance at Grey House I notice Barry and an additional security guard who I don’t recognize on the other side of the glass doors. Barry typically stands by the elevator, and is usually the only security operative in reception.

“Good morning, Mr. Grey. Welcome back,” he says as he holds open the door.

“Thank you, Barry. Good morning.”

They are checking that all GEH staff are wearing their passes. I’m not wearing mine, but then I’m the exception to the rule. Welch was not lying when he said he was doubling down on all our security measures.

Greeting both of the receptionists with a salute, I head to the elevators. They both