50 shades freed

Chapter 11

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 11

"Have you now?" I whisper. My mouth goes drier still, my heart pounding in my chest. Why's he dressed like this? What does it mean? Is he still sulking?

"I have." His voice is kitten soft, but he's smirking as he strolls closer to me.

Holy crap he looks hot—his jeans hanging that way from his hips. Oh no, I'm not going to be distracted by Mr. Sex-on-Legs. I try to gauge his mood as he stalks toward me. Angry? Playful?

Lustful? Gah! It's impossible to tell.

"I like your jeans," I murmur. He grins a disarming wolfish grin that doesn't reach his eyes. Shit— he's still mad. He's wearing these to distract me. He halts in front of me, and I'm seared by his intensity. He gazes down, wide unreadable eyes burning into mine. I swallow.

"I understand you have issues, Mr. Tomlinson-Styles," he says silkily, and he pulls something from the back pocket of his jeans. I can't tear my gaze from his, but hear him unfold a piece of paper. He holds it up, and glancing briefly in its direction, I recognize my e-mail. My gaze returns to his, as his eyes blaze bright with anger.

"Yes, I have issues," I whisper, feeling breathless. I need distance if we're going to discuss this. But before I can step back, he leans down and runs his nose along mine. My eyes flutter to a close as I welcome his unexpected, gentle touch.

"So do I," he whispers against my skin, and I open my eyes at his words. He straightens and gazes intently at me once more.

"I think I'm familiar with your issues, Harry." My voice is wry, and he narrows his eyes, suppressing the amusement that sparks there momentarily. Are we going to fight? I take a precautionary step back. I must physically distance myself from him—from his smell, his look, his distracting body in those hot jeans. He frowns as I move away.

"Why did you fly back from New York?" I whisper. Let's get this over and done with.

"You know why." His tone carries a warning ring.

"Because I went out with Zayn?"

"Because you went back on your word, and you defied me, putting yourself at unnecessary risk."

"Went back on my word? Is that how you see it?" I gasp, ignoring the rest of his sentence.

"Yes."

Holy crap. Talk about overreaction! I start to roll my eyes but stop when he scowls at me. "Harry, I changed my mind," I explain slowly, patiently as if he's a child. "I'm a man. We're renowned for it. That's what we do."

He blinks at me as if he doesn't comprehend this.

"If I had thought for one minute that you would cancel your business trip . . ." Words fail me. I realize I don't know what to say. I am momentarily catapulted back to the argument over our vows. I never promised to obey you, Harry. But I hold my tongue, because deep down I'm glad he came back. In spite of his fury, I'm glad he's here in one piece, angry and smoldering in front of me. "You changed your mind?" He can't hide his contemptuous disbelief.

"Yes."

"And you didn't think to call me?" He glares at me, incredulous, before continuing. "What's more, you left the security detail short here and put Noah at risk." Oh. I hadn't thought about that.

"I should have called, but I didn't want to worry you. If I had, I'm sure you would have forbidden me to go, and I've missed Zayn. I wanted to see him. Besides, it kept me out of the way when Jack was here. Noah shouldn't have let him in." This is so confusing. If Noah hadn't, Jack would still be at large.