His eyes frost. "No one touches what's mine," he says with chilling finality, as if I'm missing the obvious. Oh . . . I take another sip of my champagne. All of a sudden I feel overwhelmed. The music is loud, pounding, my head and feet are aching, and I feel woozy. He grasps my hand. "Come, let's go. I want to get you home," he says. Kate and Elliot join us.
"You going?" Kate asks and her voice is hopeful.
"Yes," Christian says.
"Good, we'll come with you."
As we wait at the coat check for Christian to retrieve my trench coat, Kate quizzes me.
"What happened with that guy on the dance floor?"
"He was feeling me up."
"I opened my eyes and you'd hit him."
I shrug. "Well, I knew Christian would go thermonuclear, and that could potentially ruin your evening." I haven't really processed how I feel about Christian's behavior. I was worried that it would be worse.
"Our evening," she clarifies. "He is rather hot-headed, isn't he?"
Kate adds dryly, staring at Christian as he collects my coat. I snort and smile. "You could say that."
"I think you handle him well."
"Handle?" I frown. Do I handle Christian?
"Here." Christian holds my coat open for me so that I can put it on.
"Wake up, Ana." Christian is shaking me gently. We've arrived back at the house. Reluctantly I open my eyes and stagger from the minivan. Kate and Elliot have disappeared, and Taylor is standing patiently beside the vehicle.
"Do I need to carry you?" Christian asks.
I shake my head.
"I'll fetch Miss Grey and Mr. Kavanagh," Taylor says. Christian nods then leads me to the front door. My feet are throbbing, and I stumble after him. At the front door he bends down, grasps my ankle, and gently pries off first one shoe, then the other. Oh, the relief. He straightens and gazes down at me, holding my Manolos.
"Better?" he asks, amused.
I nod.
"I had delightful visions of these around my ears," he murmurs, staring down wistfully at my shoes. He shakes his head and, taking my hand once more, leads me through the darkened house, and up the stairs to our bedroom.
"You're wrecked, aren't you?" he says softly, staring down at me. I nod. He starts to unbuckle the belt on my trench coat.
"I'll do it," I mutter, making a halfhearted attempt to brush him off.
"Let me."
I sigh. I had no idea I was this tired.
"It's the altitude. You're not used to it. And the drinking, of course." He smirks and divests me of my coat and throws it on one of the bedroom chairs. Taking my hand, he leads me into the bathroom. What? Why are we going in here?
"Sit," he says.
I sit on the chair and close my eyes. I hear him messing around with bottles on the vanity unit. I am too tired to open my eyes to find out what he's doing. A moment later he tips my head back. Now I open my eyes, in surprise.
"Eyes closed," Christian says . Holy crap, he's holding a cotton ball!
Gently, he wipes it over my right eye. I sit stunned as he methodically removes my makeup.
"Ah. There's the woman I married," he says after a few wipes.
"You don't like makeup?"
"I like it well enough, but I prefer what's beneath it." He kisses my forehead. "Here. Take these." He puts some Advil into my palm and hands me a glass of water.
I look up at him, pouting.
"Take them," he orders.
I roll my eyes, but do as I'm told.
"Good. Do you need a private moment?" he asks sardonically.
I snort. "So coy, Mr. Grey. Yes, I need to pee."
He laughs. "You expect me to leave?"
I giggle. "You want to stay?"
He cocks his head to one side, his expression amused.
"You are one kinky son of a bitch. Out. I don't want you to watch me pee. That's a step too far." I stand and wave him out of the bathroom.
When I emerge from the bathroom, he's changed into his pajama bottoms. Hmm . . . Christian in PJs. I gaze mesmerized at his abdomen, his muscles, his happy trail. It's distracting. He strides over to me.
"Enjoying the view?" he asks wryly.
"Always."
"I think you're slightly drunk, Mrs. Grey."
"I think, for once, I have to agree with you, Mr. Grey."
"Let me help you out of what little there is of this dress. It really should come with a health warning." He turns me around and undoes the single button at the neck.
"You were so mad," I murmur.
"Yes. I was."
"At me?"
"No. Not at you." He kisses my shoulder. "For once."
I smile. Not mad at me. This is progress. "Makes a nice change."
"Yes. It does." He kisses my other shoulder then tugs my dress down over my backside and onto the floor. He removes my panties at the same time, leaving me naked. Reaching up, he takes my hand.
"Step," he commands, and I step out of the dress, holding his hand for balance.
He stands, and my dress and panties join Mia's trench coat on the chair.
"Arms up," he says softly. He slips his T-shirt over me and pulls it down, covering me up. I am ready for bed.
He pulls me into his arms and kisses me, my minty breath mingling with his.
"As much as I'd love to bury myself in you, Mrs. Grey - you've had too much to drink, you're at nearly eight thousand feet, and you didn't sleep well yesterday. Come. Get into bed." He pulls back the duvet and I climb in. He covers me up and kisses my forehead once more.
"Close your eyes. When I come back to bed, I'll expect you to be asleep." It's a threat, a command . . . it's Christian.