Read Fifty Shades Trilogy 02 - Fifty Shades Darker for Free Online Page A

you won’t let me touch you, and I want to so much to show you how much I love you.”
    He blinks at me in the darkness, warily I think, and I can resist him no longer. I unbuckle my seatbelt and scramble into his lap, taking him by surprise, and take his head in my hands.
    “I love you, Christian Grey. And you’re prepared to do all this for me. I’m the one who is undeserving, and I’m just sorry that I can’t do all those things for you. Maybe with time . . . I don’t know . . . but yes, I accept your proposition. Where do I sign?”
    He snakes his arms around me and crushes me to him.
    “Oh, Ana,” he breathes as he buries his nose in my hair.
    We sit, our arms wrapped around each other, listening to the music—a soothing piano piece—mirroring the emotions in the car, the sweet tranquil calm after the storm. I snuggle into his arms, resting my head in the crook of his neck. He gently strokes my back.
    “Touching is a hard limit for me, Anastasia,” he whispers.
    “I know. I wish I understood why.”
    After a while, he sighs, and in a soft voice he says, “I had a horrific childhood. One of the crack whore’s pimps . . .” His voice trails off, and his body tenses as he recalls some unimaginable horror. “I can remember that,” he whispers, shuddering.
    Abruptly, my heart constricts as I remember the burn scars marring his skin. Oh, Christian. I tighten my arms around his neck.
    “Was she abusive? Your mother?” My voice is low and soft with unshed tears.
    “Not that I remember. She was neglectful. She didn’t protect me from her pimp.”  
    He snorts. “I think it was me who looked after her. When she finally killed herself, it took four days for someone to raise the alarm and find us . . . I remember that.”
    I cannot contain my gasp of horror. Holy mother fuck. Bile rises in my throat.
    “That’s pretty fucked-up,” I whisper.
    “Fifty shades,” he murmurs.
    I turn my head and press my lips against his neck, seeking and offering solace as I imagine a small, dirty, gray-eyed boy lost and lonely beside the body of his dead mother.  
    Oh, Christian. I breathe in his scent. He smells heavenly, my favorite fragrance in the entire world. He tightens his arms around me and kisses my hair, and I sit wrapped in his embrace as Taylor speeds into the night.

    When I wake, we’re driving through Seattle.
    “Hey,” Christian says softly.
    “Sorry,” I murmur as I sit up, blinking and stretching. I am still in his arms, on his lap.
    “I could watch you sleep forever, Ana.”
    “Did I say anything?”
    “No. We’re nearly at your place.”
    Oh? “We’re not going to yours?”
    “No.”
    I sit up and gaze at him. “Why not?”
    “Because you have work tomorrow.”
    “Oh.” I pout.
    He smirks at me. “Why, did you have something in mind?”
    I flush. “Well, maybe.”
    He chuckles. “Anastasia, I am not going to touch you again, not until you beg me to.”
    “What!”
    “So that you’ll start communicating with me. Next time we make love, you’re going to have to tell me exactly what you want in fine detail.”
    “Oh.” He shifts me off his lap as Taylor pulls up outside my apartment. Christian climbs out and holds the car door open for me.
    “I have something for you.” He moves to the back of the car, opens the trunk, and pulls out a large gift-wrapped box. What the hell is this?
    “Open it when you get inside.”
    “You’re not coming in?”
    “No, Anastasia.”
    “So when will I see you?”
    “Tomorrow.”
    “My boss wants me to go for a drink with him tomorrow.”
    Christian’s face hardens. “Does he, now?” His voice is laced with latent menace.
    “To celebrate my first week,” I add quickly.
    “Where?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “I could pick you up from there.”
    “Okay . . . I’ll e-mail or text you.”
    “Good.”
    He walks me to the lobby door and waits while I dig my keys out of my purse. As I unlock the door, he leans forward and