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- Э. Л. Джеймс
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- Пятьдесят оттенков серого
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- Стр. 661/797
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“
I
noticed
.
”
I
can
’
t
keep
the
dryness
out
of
my
voice
.
He
tenses
.
“
Does
it
bother
you
?
”
he
asks
softly
.
Does
it
bother
me
?
Maybe
it
should
…
should
it
?
No
,
it
doesn
’
t
.
I
lean
back
and
look
up
at
him
,
and
he
gazes
down
at
me
,
his
eyes
a
soft
cloudy
gray
.
“
No
,
not
at
all
.
”
He
smirks
.
“
Good
.
Let
’
s
have
a
bath
.
”
He
uncurls
from
around
me
,
placing
me
on
the
floor
as
he
makes
to
stand
.
As
he
does
,
I
notice
again
the
small
,
round
white
scars
on
his
chest
.
They
are
not
chicken
pox
,
I
muse
absentmindedly
.
Grace
said
he
was
hardly
affected
.
Holy
shit
…
they
must
be
burns
.
Burns
from
what
?
I
blanch
at
the
realization
,
shock
and
revulsion
coursing
through
me
.
From
cigarettes
?
Mrs
.
Robinson
,
his
birth
mother
,
who
?
Who
did
this
to
him
?
Maybe
there
’
s
a
reasonable
explanation
,
and
I
’
m
overreacting
—
wild
hope
blossoms
in
my
chest
,
hope
that
I
am
wrong
.
“
What
is
it
?
”
Christian
’
s
face
is
wide
-
eyed
with
alarm
.
“
Your
scars
,
”
I
whisper
.
“
They
’
re
not
from
chicken
pox
.
”
I
watch
as
in
a
split
second
he
closes
down
,
his
stance
changing
from
relaxed
,
calm
,
and
at
ease
to
defensive
—
angry
even
.
He
frowns
,
his
face
darkening
,
and
his
mouth
presses
into
a
thin
,
hard
line
.
“
No
,
they
’
re
not
,
”
he
snaps
,
but
he
does
not
elaborate
further
.
He
stands
,
holds
his
hand
out
for
me
,
and
hauls
me
to
my
feet
.
