My lifeline on We Heart It.
There’s a knock on the door. My heart leaps into my mouth, and I can’t seem to find my voice. He opens the door anyway and strolls in. Holy hell, he’s been working out. He’s in gray sweat pants that hang, in that way, off his hips and a gray singlet, which is dark with sweat, like his hair. Christian Grey’s sweat; the notion does odd things to me. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I feel like a two-year-old; if I close my
eyes then I’m not really here. “Good morning, Anastasia. How are you
feeling?” - Fifty Shades Of Grey
“‘Oh, I love megalomaniac Christian, and control freak Christian, sexpertise Christian, kinky Christian, romantic Christian, shy Christian … the list is endless.’ ‘That’s a whole lot of Christians.’ ‘I’d say at least fifty.’ ‘Fifty Shades.’ ‘My Fifty Shades.’” [x]
“Shit, Ana!” Grey cries. He tugs the hand that he’s holding so hard that I fall back against him just as a cyclist whips past, narrowly missing me, heading the wrong way up this one-way street. It all happens so fast – one minute I’m falling, the next I’m in his arms and he’s holding me tightly against his chest. I inhale his clean, vital scent. He smells of fresh laundered linen and some expensive body wash. Oh my, it’s intoxicating. I inhale deeply. intoxicating. I inhale deeply. “Are you okay?” he whispers. He has one arm around me, clasping me to him, while the fingers of his other hand softly trace my face, gently probing, examining me. His thumb brushes my lower lip, and I hear his breath hitch. He’s staring into my eyes, and I hold his anxious, burning gaze for a moment or maybe it’s forever… but eventually, my attention is drawn to his beautiful mouth. Oh my. And for the first time in twentyone years, I want to be kissed. I want to feel his mouth on me.
- Fifty Shades Of Grey