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- Э. Л. Джеймс
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“
José
just
got
out
of
line
.
”
I
shrug
.
“
Well
,
the
next
time
he
gets
out
of
line
,
maybe
someone
should
teach
him
some
manners
.
”
“
You
are
quite
the
disciplinarian
,
”
I
hiss
.
“
Oh
,
Anastasia
,
you
have
no
idea
.
”
His
eyes
narrow
,
and
then
he
grins
wickedly
.
It
’
s
disarming
.
One
minute
,
I
’
m
confused
and
angry
,
the
next
,
I
’
m
gazing
at
his
gorgeous
smile
.
Wow
…
I
am
entranced
,
and
it
’
s
because
his
smile
is
so
rare
.
I
quite
forget
what
he
’
s
talking
about
.
“
I
’
m
going
to
have
a
shower
.
Unless
you
’
d
like
to
shower
first
?
”
He
cocks
his
head
to
one
side
,
still
grinning
.
My
heartbeat
has
picked
up
,
and
my
medulla
oblongata
has
neglected
to
fire
any
synapses
to
make
me
breathe
.
His
grin
widens
,
and
he
reaches
over
and
runs
his
thumb
down
my
cheek
and
across
my
lower
lip
.
“
Breathe
,
Anastasia
,
”
he
whispers
then
stands
back
up
.
“
Breakfast
will
be
here
in
fifteen
minutes
.
You
must
be
famished
.
”
He
heads
into
the
bathroom
and
closes
the
door
.
I
let
out
the
breath
that
I
’
ve
been
holding
.
Why
is
he
so
damned
attractive
?
Right
now
I
want
to
go
and
join
him
in
the
shower
.
I
have
never
felt
this
way
about
anyone
.
My
hormones
are
racing
.
My
skin
tingles
where
his
thumb
traced
over
my
face
and
lower
lip
.
I
’
m
squirming
with
a
needy
,
achy
…
discomfort
.
I
don
’
t
understand
this
reaction
.
Hmm
…
Desire
.
This
is
desire
.
This
is
what
it
feels
like
.
I
lie
back
on
the
soft
feather
-
filled
pillows
.
If
you
were
mine
.
Oh
my
—
what
would
I
do
to
be
his
?
He
’
s
the
only
man
who
has
ever
set
the
blood
racing
through
my
body
.
Yet
he
’
s
so
antagonizing
,
too
;
he
’
s
difficult
,
complicated
,
and
confusing
.
One
minute
he
rebuffs
me
,
the
next
he
sends
me
fourteen
-
thousand
-
dollar
books
,
then
he
tracks
me
like
a
stalker
.
And
for
all
that
,
I
have
spent
the
night
in
his
hotel
suite
,
and
I
feel
safe
.
Protected
.
He
cares
enough
to
come
and
rescue
me
from
some
mistakenly
perceived
danger
.
He
’
s
not
a
dark
knight
at
all
but
a
white
knight
in
shining
,
dazzling
armor
—
a
classic
romantic
hero
—
Sir
Gawain
or
Sir
Lancelot
.
I
scramble
out
of
his
bed
frantically
searching
for
my
jeans
.
He
emerges
from
the
bathroom
wet
and
glistening
from
the
shower
,
still
unshaven
,
with
just
a
towel
around
his
waist
,
and
there
am
I
—
all
bare
legs
and
awkward
gawkiness
.
He
’
s
surprised
to
see
me
out
of
bed
.
