There’s a gun in your desk. It’s fully loaded.”“How do you know?” His frown deepens.“I checked it yesterday.”“I don’t want you messing with guns. I hope you put the safety back on.”I blink at him, momentarily stupefied. “Christian, there’s no safety on that revolver. Don’t you know anything about guns?”His eyes widen. “Um . . . no.

I shake my head at his largesse, and I frown as a scene from Tess crosses my mind: the strawberry scene. It evokes my dream. To hell with Dr. Flynn—Freud would have a field day—and then he’d probably die trying to deal with Fifty Shades.

He's Excited. Like a small boy, he's iridescent with anticipation and excitement. It makes me smile.

I pull him deeper into my mouth so I can feel him at the back of my throat and then to the front again. My tongue swirls around the end. He’s my very own Christian Grey-flavored popsicle. I suck harder and harder … Hmm … My inner goddess is doing the merengue with some salsa moves

Look at me,” he breathes, and I stare up into his smoldering gaze. It is his Dom gaze—cold, hard, and sexy as hell, seven shades of sin in one enticing look.

Weirdly, all the wood, dark walls, moody lighting, and oxblood leather makes the room kind of soft and romantic … I know it’s anything but; this is Christian’s version of soft and romantic.

Put the chicken in the fridge.” This is not a sentence I had ever expected to hear from Christian Grey, and only he can make it sound hot, really hot.

She holds her hands in entreaty. Join me, she whispers, but she's moving backward, getting fainter... disappearing before my eyes... vanishing... she's gone. No! I shout. No!But I have no voice. I have nothing. I'm mute. Mute... again.

The world of Katherine Kavanagh is very clear, very black and white. Not the intangible, mysterious, vague hues of gray that color my world. Welcome to my world.

After you've taken so much trouble to set up recorder, you ask me now?