Frankie moves quickly, pulling me through the bedroom to the closet, and I immediately cede him control. “Get dressed,” he murmurs to me, dropping my hand and moving for the door, quickly flicking the lock. “Fast. Put on…whatever, Iris. Something warm. And shoes.”
I do as he says, stepping into Christian’s huge walk-in closet and beginning to put on layers of clothing – a t-shirt, and then a long-sleeved shirt, and then a sweatshirt. On the bottom I pull on a pair of his shorts and then sweatpants, which I roll over and over. When I turn to his shoes I just stare for a moment, because…I don’t have any shoes here.
God, why the f**k don’t I have any shoes?
Something about Christian keeping me barefoot and pregnant quickly flicks through my mind – but then I brush it away and grab for a pa
