Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian

Chapter 123

“Mine,” she says.

“Yours,” I repeat. “Yes, I would. If it meant that much to you.” I remember surrendering myself to her here, before we were married, when I thought she was leaving.

“Does it mean that much to you?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” she says.

“I thought you’d already agreed to this.”

“Yes, I have, but now that we’ve discussed it further, I’m happier with my decision.”

“Oh.”

Flynn was right. This was about her and how she feels.

But I’m glad she’s come around. It’s a relief—our feud is over. I beam at her and she smiles back, so I swoop down, grab her by her waist, and swing her high.

Thank you, Anastasia.

She giggles, and I set her on her feet. “Mrs. Grey, do you know what this means to me?”

“I do now.”

I kiss her, threading my fingers through the softness of her hair, and whisper against her lips, “It means seven shades of Sunday.” I run my nose down hers.

“You think?” She leans back, her eyes narrowed, but she’s trying to hide her smile.

“Certain promises were made. An offer extended, a deal brokered,” I whisper.

After this fight, I need to

“Um…” Ana regards me as if I’ve lost mind.

Hell, she’s backing out. “You reneging on me?” A plan pops, fully formed, into my mind. “I have an idea. A really important

Ana’s expression intensifies; she thinks I’m

Grey. A matter of the gravest importance.” I’m sure there’s a wicked gleam in my eye. This is a means to an end.

She narrows hers, once more. “What?” she asks.

“I need you to cut my hair. Apparently, it’s overlong, and my wife doesn’t like it.”

“I can’t cut your hair!” she exclaims, in amused disbelief.

“Yes, you can.” I shake my head

How have I not noticed this?

“Well, if Mrs. Jones has a pudding bowl.” Ana

I laugh. “Okay, good point well made. I’ll get Franco to do it.”

Her laugh turns to a grimace, and

Looks like she’s going to cut my hair.

bathroom chair in front of her sink. Her high heels emphasize her legs and the tight pencil skirt sculpts her beautiful behind. This is a show worth watching.

She turns and

“Are you going to wash my hair?”

She nods.

Whoa. I can’t remember anyone washing my hair. Ever.

hers, I slowly unbutton my shirt, and when it’s undone

Undo this, baby.

With a darkening look, she undoes the right, then the left cuff, her fingertips tantalizing my skin with a soft sweep or two over each pulse. Her blouse is undone,

It’s a most inspiring sight. She steps closer, and I catch a hint of her lovely fragrance as she pushes my shirt off my shoulders and lets it drop to the floor.

“Ready?” she whispers,

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