“We didn’t-?” I whisper, my mouth drying in mortified horror as I can’t complete the question. I stare at my hands. “Anastasia, you were comatose. Necrophilia is not my thing. I like my women sentient and receptive,” he says dryly.” — E.L. James Copy Share Image
“Don’t,” he murmurs, then kisses me lightly. “Why don’t you like to be touched?” I whisper, staring up into soft gray eyes. “Because I’m… — E.L. James Copy Share Image
“If he touches me, I will succumb. I know the power he wields over me and my traitorous body. I know.” — E.L. James Copy Share Image
“I’ve been so busy I haven’t managed to contact her since this morning, but she’s been hovering at the edge of my consciousness all… — E.L. James Copy Share Image
“Let me ask you something first. Do you want a regular vanilla relationship with no kinky fu*kery at all?” — E.L. James Copy Share Image
“And the baby?" The words are anguished, breathless. "The baby's fine, Mr. Grey." "Oh, thank God." The words are litany... a prayer, "Oh, thank… — E.L. James Copy Share Image
“No. No!” he says. “I . . .” He looks wildly around the room. For inspiration? For divine intervention? I don’t know. “You can’t go. Ana, I love you!” “I love you, too, Christian, it’s just—” “No . . . no!” he says in desperation and puts both hands on his head. “Christian . . .” “No,” he breathes, his… — E.L. James Copy Share
“Because we're getting to know each other, and you're stubborn and cantankerous and moody and difficult.” — E.L. James Copy Share Image
