50 shades freed

Chapter 5

Everything in it is entirely imaginary and intended only for entertainment; I created it for fun. I did not write 50 Shades freed or any of its characters, and I do not own them.

Chapter 5

I stir, instinctively reaching for Harry only to feel his absence. Shit! I wake instantly and look anxiously around the cabin. Harry is watching me from the small, upholstered armchair by the bed.

Stooping down, he places something on the floor, then moves and stretches out on the bed beside me.

He's dressed in his cut-offs and a green T-shirt.

"Hey, don't panic. Everything's fine," he says, his voice gentle and soothing—like he's talking to a cornered wild animal. Tenderly, he smooths the hair back from my face and I calm immediately. I see him trying and failing to hide his own concern.

"You've been so jumpy these last couple of days," he murmurs, his eyes wide and serious.

"I'm okay, Harry." I give him my brightest smile because I don't want him to know how worried I am about the arson incident. The painful recollection of how I felt when Charlie Tango was sabotaged and Harry went missing—the hollow emptiness, the indescribable pain—keeps resurfacing; the memory nagging me and gnawing at my heart. Keeping the smile fixed on my face, I try to repress it.

"Were you watching me sleep?"

"Yes," he says gazing at me steadily, studying me. "You were talking."

"Oh?" Shit! What was I saying?

"You're worried," he adds, his eyes filled with concern. Is there nothing I can keep from this man?

He leans forward and kisses me between my brows.

"When you frown, a little V forms just here. It's soft to kiss. Don't worry baby, I'll look after you."

"It's not me I'm worried about, it's you," I grumble. "Who's looking after you?"

He smiles indulgently at my tone. "I'm big enough and ugly enough to look after myself. Come. Get up. There's one thing I'd like to do before we head home." He grins at me, a big boyish yes-I'm really-only-twenty-eight grin and swats my behind. I yelp, startled, and realize that today we're going back to Seattle and my melancholy blossoms. I don't want to leave. I've relished being with him 24-7, and I'm not ready to share him with his company and his family. We've had a blissful honeymoon.

With a few ups and downs, I admit, but that's normal for a newly married couple, surely?

But Harry cannot contain his boyish excitement, and despite my dark thoughts, it's infectious. When he rises gracefully off the bed, I follow, intrigued. What has he got in mind?

Harry straps the key to my wrist.

"You want me to drive?"

"Yes." Harry grins. "That's not too tight?"

"It's fine. Is that why you're wearing a life jacket?" I arch my eyebrow.

"Yes."

I can't help my giggle. "Such confidence in my driving capabilities, Mr. Styles."

"As ever, Mr. Tomlinson-Styles."

"Well, don't lecture me."

Harry holds his hands up in a defensive gesture, but he's smiling. "Would I dare?"

"Yes, you would, and yes you do, and we can't pull over and argue on the sidewalk here."

"Fair point well made, Mr. Tomlinson-Styles. Are we going to stand on this platform all day debating your driving skills or are we going to have some fun?"