fifty-shades-of-grey

Slowly the outside world invades my senses, and oh my, what an invasion. I am floating,my limbs soft and languid, utterly spent. I’m lying on top of him, my head on his chest,and he smells divine: fresh, laundered linen and some expensive body wash, and the best,most seductive scent on the planet… Christian. I don’t want to move, I want to breathethis elixir for eternity. I nuzzle him, wishing I didn’t have the barrier of his t-shirt. And asrhyme and reason return to the rest of my body, I stretch my hand out on his chest. This isthe first time I’ve touched him here. He’s firm… strong. His hand swoops up and grabsmine, but he softens the blow by pulling it to his mouth and sweetly kissing my knuckles.He rolls over so he’s gazing down at me.“Don’t,” he murmurs, then kisses me lightly.“Why don’t you like to be touched?” I whisper, staring up into soft gray eyes.“Because I’m fifty shades of fucked-up, Anastasia.”Oh… his honesty is completely disarming. I blink up at him.“I had a very tough introduction to life. I don’t want to burden you with the details.Just don’t.” He strokes his nose against mine, and then he pulls out of me and sits up.“I think that’s all the very basics covered. How was that?”He looks thoroughly pleased with himself and sounds very matter-of-fact at the sametime, like he’s just marked another tick box in a checklist. I’m still reeling from the toughintroduction to life comment. It’s so frustrating – I am desperate to know more. But he