Author's note (DragonGirl323): At long last, more Edward/Esme goodness! Sorry for the extended delay everyone. This first chapter gave me weeks and weeks of grief, but I beat the sucker into submission and pumped out some excellence. I hope everyone enjoys it! We've got some great stuff in store for all of you! Thank you for the continued support. Crys and I appreciate it so much, you have no idea.

Author's note (A Romantic Enquiry): This story was written in the same style as the first installment, Restrained Passion. If you haven't read that, I recommend you start with it so you understand what is going on. You can find the link on my profile page. Jenna and I RPed the dialogue together, and the chapters alternate between Edward's and Esme's points of view. Edward's chapters were expanded and edited by Jenna, and I did the same for Esme's chapters. We came up with this story based on a Twilight roleplay that we were both members of; therefore, the storyline was AU to begin with, omitting the events of Breaking Dawn. Also, as Jenna said, thank you for reading our story!

One week. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. One thousand, one hundred and seventy-six minutes. Eight thousand, two hundred and thirty-two seconds.

That was the amount of time I had spent away from the house and, more specifically, from Esme. Even then, as I trudged through the forest, my clothes and hair dripping wet, I still wasn't sure if returning was the best idea. In the back of my mind, though, I knew that I was only delaying the inevitable. I didn't need to speak with Alice to know that continuing to avoid the problem would only make it worse and exceedingly awkward for the both of us. To be brutally honest, part of the reason why I didn't want to go back was because I enjoyed listening to her thoughts way more than I should. No matter how long I spent thinking about Bella, my hopes of that need to be back with Esme, that unrestrained desire, fading from my mind as time passed was inexplicably destroyed and I felt myself being pulled back to the Cullen house like a moth drawn to the flame.

I pressed my lips together as the familiar structure came into view ahead, my already slow pace diminishing even further to the point that, had I been human, it would seem like I was having trouble putting one foot in front of the other, which couldn't have been any farther from the truth. I had turned avoidance into an art form over the course of my existence, something I wasn't proud of, and the fact that I'd honestly considered not returning at all was shameful.

I heard her thoughts before I saw her, the intensity of them slapping me in the face violently, and my head snapped to the right as if I'd actually been struck. I pressed my lips together and shifted my gaze back to the house, spotting her immediately from where she was standing in front of the living room window. I nearly stopped in my tracks at the sight of her, but steeled myself, forcing my legs to continue carrying me forward. I exhaled sharply when she turned away, retreating farther into the house so she could avoid me easier if I chose to come in through the front door, and my jaw clenched reflexively when I heard how surprised she was over seeing me.

So, she didn't even expect me to return… I thought solemnly, making my way around the side of the house to my room. I supposed I deserved that, though. After all, I left moments after Carlisle returned home and all without saying a word or providing an explanation as to why. She deserved so much more than that. She deserved an explanation, and I hadn't even retained enough integrity to give it to her.

I called myself a gentleman, but after acting so infantile I wasn't so sure I had that right anymore.

I jumped up into my room and immediately began stripping my damp clothes off my body, trying not to read her thoughts just as she was attempting to ignore my presence. As she shut herself inside her office, she began wondering how much longer we could live in the same house and not have to face one another, and I couldn't help but agree with her. I shook my head violently to get all the water out of my hair as well as rid my head of her thoughts and my face soured slightly as I buttoned up a dry shirt, already knowing something like that wouldn't work. I bunched my hands in my hair in frustration and began pacing the length of my room, the sharp clicking of her heels echoing loudly through the otherwise quiet house made me grind my teeth in irritation.

I paused by the window and laced my fingers behind my head, thinking that returning wasn't such a wise decision after all. I'd thought that perhaps I could set the record straight. Tell her that our encounter, as passionate as it had been, was nothing but a mistake that could tear our family apart. Even though I would never be able to look at her the same way again, I wouldn't do something so selfish. I wouldn't destroy my creator's life and I certainly wouldn't destroy Bella's.

And perhaps, my mind whispered to me. You're only fooling yourself. The damage has already been done.

Had it really, though? Was there no way for this to be fixed, be forgotten about? Or were we already past the point of no return?

The sudden sensation of feeling trapped slithered through my mind and my instincts flared without warning, screaming at me to get out, to flee. I crouched, ready to blast right through the glass separating me from the forest, then quickly realized that it was Esme's sense of isolation that I was feeding off of and straightened, the tension immediately seeping out of me. I glared angrily at my door like it was the culprit responsible for keeping me held in this space for so long and shook my head slowly, refusing to be a party to willingly trapping myself. It was ludicrous and there was no way I was going to put up with it. I may be forced to hear her thoughts, but there was no law that said I had to speak with her.

I paused and took a deep, calming breath, not intending to direct the irrational anger I was feeling toward Esme. I flexed my hands at my sides, my eyes still locked on the door, and strode out of my room with purpose, heading down stairs and going immediately to my piano. I tried to ignore her thoughts as I sat down on the bench and uncovered the pristine white and black keys, but they oozed into my head with a silky smoothness that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Deep down, I had sincerely missed listening to the inner workings of her mind over the past week and once again being in a closer proximity to her was refreshing in a way.

As I stared down at the keys, trying to figure out what to play, the impulse of wanting to work on her interior design blog drifted through her thoughts and my hands paused, hovering mere millimeters above the keys. She needed her computer, which was sitting on the coffee table in the living room not far from where I was, and my earlier frustration drained out of my body, leaving me with an indescribable sense of longing to have her near me. My face involuntarily twisted as she considered ignoring me when she came downstairs, and I rolled my shoulders experimentally to shake the heaviness off of them, then began playing. The random series of notes that I strung together were actually much more sophisticated than they first appeared, but a majority of my concentration was centered on Esme as she made her way toward the living room.

She paused uncertainly in the entryway before looking down at her feet and starting across the room, forcing herself not to look at me. She began thinking about how much she would like to talk to me, hating the silence and tension between us since my return, and I couldn't stop my thoughts from mirroring her own. I slid my eyes closed, not needing to have them open to see her, and the nameless tune abruptly shifted to a song I know she would recognize, the soft, melancholic notes drifting toward her, seeking her out. An involuntary shudder of desire slithered down my spine as I imagined for a moment that her body – her immaculately flawless skin – was beneath my fingers in place of the piano keys and I had to forcefully swallow the groan that was fighting its way up my throat.

I focused on her mind, which helped to center my thoughts, as she came to a stop halfway across the room, pausing for a long moment and lifting a hand to curl her fingers against her lips. "Edward…" she said breathlessly, turning her head to glance at me, but thinking that it might be better if we didn't speak to one another.

My eyebrows pinched together as I listened to her reaction to my song choice, but forced the rest of my expression to remain impassive as I tilted my head to the right only just, acknowledging her presence. She fell silent as I continued to play, feeling both slightly flattered and guilty about my choice of song. Her gaze was transfixed on me, watching me carefully as she tried to figure out how to even approach starting a conversation. I knew then that I would have to be the one to extend my hand to her and break the tension that was steadily driving a wedge between us. One of the only conclusions I had come to during my absence from the house was that no matter what happened between us because of our lapse in judgment, I didn't want to lose the relationship I already had with her. Before the wonderings of whether or not things between us could ever go back to normal had the chance to bother me, I silenced them, focusing on the melody I was playing, but mainly on the woman standing not far from me.

I opened my eyes swiftly and suddenly, my gaze immediately finding hers, holding it captive as my hands moved across the keys without pause. A soft gasp escaped her parted lips, overwhelmed by a powerful rush of several different emotions: guilt, love, fear and attraction. I let myself get lost in her mind, her thoughts sinking into my skin until I could feel her essence in my bones, but also kept track of where I was in the song, waiting for the perfect moment.

"But it's time to face the truth, I will never be with you," I whispered tenderly, my hands pausing on the keys, my eyes still locked on hers as the notes gradually faded away.

"We're here now," she replied just as quietly, continuing to hold my gaze.

I nodded once in agreement. "We are."

"I don't like not talking to you," she said, taking a careful step toward me.

I kept my eyes on her as I slid my hands off the keys and placed them in my lap, my throat convulsing as I swallowed. "I don't like it either."

Her legs carried her closer and she glanced down at the piano bench, wanting more than anything to sit beside me. "Do you mind if I…?" she asked, hesitantly pointing down at the seat.

I promptly scooted over, making room for her to sit down, before she even finished speaking.

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly as she closed the remaining distance between us and carefully sat down, smoothing her hands over her thighs as she stared down at the piano keys. A short stretch of silence that seemed much longer than it actually was passed between us before she spoke again. "How do we fix this, Edward?"

Glancing up and looking straight ahead, it was my turn to be silent as I considered my answer. Unfortunately, I couldn't come up with anything profound. "I don't know."

When she turned her head to look at me, I detected all of her conflicted emotions bubbling to the surface of her mind once again. "Tell me what you've been thinking," she requested, watching me carefully.

The muscles in my jaw clenched as I propped my elbows on the piano keys, the harsh cacophony of notes slicing through the air, and fisted my hands in front of my mouth. "I'm not entirely convinced that what I'm thinking will fix anything. It's only liable to make things worse."

"Like my thoughts?" she murmured, reaching over and lightly touching my arm to urge my elbows off the piano.

My eyes slid shut when she touched me and I leaned back slightly, bringing my hands down to slide the cover over the piano keys. I glanced over at her and exhaled slowly out my nose. "No," I replied, my lips parted as I considered saying more, but I stopped myself and turned my head away again.

"Please talk to me, Edward," she said, placing her hand lightly on my shoulder. "I can't stand not knowing how you feel."

I pressed my lips together and lifted a hand to rub my forehead. "What I feel…" I began, sighing heavily. "I'm betraying my creator and Bella with what I feel."

Esme drew her bottom lip into her mouth, biting down on it as she watched me, her hand still poised on my shoulder. "I know," she whispered, placing both hands in her lap and gazing across the room. "It's the hardest thing I've ever tried to stop. I don't think about…you on purpose. I don't want to hurt anyone."

I lifted my arms, resting my elbows against the piano once more and fisting my hands in front of my mouth. "And as much as I don't want to hurt anyone either, it just feels…right," I confessed.

She sighed sadly, looking over at me out of the corner of her eye. "We don't belong together."

My hands clenched even tighter together, the skin stretching over the bones, and I nodded stiffly. "No, we don't," I replied, grinding those words out through my teeth.

"But you are the second greatest temptation I have ever faced. I don't know why," she said, turning fully to face me finally and blinked slowly a few times. "I don't know what that means."

I looked at her as well, my gaze finding hers. "And the pure abandon I experience in your thoughts… I've never encountered anything like that before and I don't know what that means either."

"This sounds incredibly selfish, but the past week has only made me crave the escape I found in your arms more. I felt everything so purely. At the time, it wasn't complicated at all. It felt like if there had been even the slightest twist of fate long ago…" Her voice trailed off as she shook her head, pushing the rest of her thoughts away, but I had heard them. And I couldn't help but wonder about that myself.

"How are we supposed to justify something like this?" I asked, shifting the focus slightly to take my mind away from that maddening train of thought. "If there's even a way to justify it?"

"I don't think we can." She paused briefly, her thoughts scrambling. "Are you asking me… Is that a suggestion we…" she stammered uncertainly, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "What are you saying, Edward? I'm so confused."

I exhaled sharply as I dipped my head, threading my fingers into my hair. "I don't even know what I'm saying," I growled in frustration. "I've never been this conflicted before."

She was silent for a moment as she shifted her feet nervously. "Are we being petty?" she asked, glancing at me. "I would never want you to feel that I was…using you." She turned away then, looking over her opposite shoulder. "You made me feel something I have never felt before, but that doesn't make it right or justifiable. I can't ever pretend it never happened," she said, still not looking at me. "I love you. I always have. I love Carlisle and Bella. I can stop myself from acting, but I can't stop myself from feeling. I feel bad for you having to listen to my thoughts.

"I don't think we are. At least, I'd like to think we aren't," I replied, turning to look at her and staring at the back of her head for a moment before reaching over to tentatively take her hand. "I don't want you to feel that way either. Please don't feel bad, though. I…I love listening to your thoughts."

She inhaled sharply at my last comment, squeezing my hand slightly, and turning to face me slowly, her lips parting. "You do?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes," I answered, nodding once and pausing briefly. "I think I might have even become addicted to it."

"I thought maybe you were angry at me earlier, when you left," she said, averting her gaze from mine and glancing at the piano.

"No, I wasn't angry. Far from it," I reassured her, taking a breath I didn't necessarily need. "It took every sliver of my self control to refrain from doing something that would expose us. Leaving was the only option."

She slowly scooted closer to me until our legs were touching. "I meant it all," she said, licking her lips. "I couldn't help myself really."

My eyes fixated on her mouth and I instinctively leaned closer to her, feeling as though a magnetic pull was drawing us toward each other. "I know," I replied, my voice low. "You drove me absolutely mad."

She lifted her hand and curled her fingers under my chin, leaning closer to me as well. "Is that so? You like me being so addicted to you?"

My lips tugged up slightly at the corners as my mouth crept toward hers. "It's intoxicating."

Her lips parted as we stared into each other's eyes and I heard the soft whisperings of her desire to kiss me, but she didn't move, blinking up at me instead. I gradually bridged the miniscule gap between us and brushed our lips together with the softest of touches, my free hand snaking around to cup the back of her neck.

As soon as our lips touched, though, she pulled back gently. "You probably don't want to kiss me right now. Carlisle… I'm sorry," she whispered, pressing her fingertips against her lips.

I remained motionless, my gaze drifting down to rest on her fingers for a few brief seconds, before lifting once more. Nearly a full thirty seconds had gone by while I remained silent and motionless, the only thought that was continually cycling through my mind was how much I wanted to taste her again, before I threw caution to the wind and kissed her fully.

She sucked in a short, startled breath through her nose, but completely surrendered to the kiss, moving cautiously at first before returning the gesture with equal passion. She laughed lightly when we finally parted. "Shame on you, Edward," she scolded playfully, running her finger across my bottom lip and smiling coyly.

I arched an eyebrow at her, grinning. "Shame on me? What about you?"

She was silent for a few moments as she stared at my mouth, her smile slowly widening as our kiss replayed through her mind. "You don't taste like anyone else," she said, taking my hand and slowly standing up. "Maybe I should go freshen up a bit." She slid her fingers along mine before letting go of my hand. "You'll wait for me?"

I chuckled as I watched her rise and nodded with a small smile. "Of course I will."

"Think about me while I'm gone," she murmured, turning to go upstairs and taking her time as she sauntered out of the room.

"How could I not?" I mumbled back to her as my hands drifted to the piano, folded the cover back and splayed my fingers over the keys, my eyes locked on her form.

She hummed softly in reply, and – before she had even reached the top of the stairs – she began meticulously shedding her clothing, a faint undercurrent of invitation drifting through her mind. I groaned deeply and shut my eyes, as if that would block the images pouring into my head, then began playing a soft, slow melody to help keep my mind occupied.

But that didn't work. Not at all. The majority of my attention was centered solely on her and nothing short of the apocalypse would be able to wrench my focus from her.

From where I was sitting I could hear the material of her blouse brush against her skin as she lifted it over her head and I suddenly imagined myself carefully unclasping her bra, sliding the straps off of her shoulders and dragging my mouth over her skin. I longed to taste her skin again. It had been a week, an excruciatingly long week, since the first time I had kissed her and I craved it, ached for it.

Without meaning to, I had accelerated the tempo of the song I was playing as I was following her thoughts, my fingers flying over the keys with inhuman speed. I swallowed the venom that had begun to pool beneath my tongue, my throat convulsing tightly, and after a few moments of conflicted consideration, I got up and strode upstairs after her before I had the chance to over think it.

I wanted her. Badly. And I needed to indulge further. I couldn't deny it any longer.