I was Isabella Swan, a relatively inconsequential eighteen year old girl living in Forks, Washington. Stunning? No. But attractive in my own right, for a pale, graceless, lanky teenager who always had her nose stuck deep in a tattered Victorian romance novel. Extraordinary things didn't happen to me, with the exception of meeting a certain immortal.
And the immortal? He was Edward Cullen; Edward Cullen, markedly the most attractive "seventeen" year old in the greater Northwest. Despite his put off demeanor towards the majority of the student population of Forks High School and the faraway look in his eyes he often got when his brain would switch to hibernate and his body would become oddly still without the coming of his breath, he was the most sought-after prize any for girl (or boy, in some cases) with half a clue.
It didn't matter that he didn't spare a second thought for any of my hopeful classmates. Edward was – is – extremely, understandably desirable. There were not many girls that would have passed up an opportunity to sleep with him, and even if they wouldn't admit to their indiscretions out loud, their thoughts would give them away. As much as the attention they directed toward Edward made my own insecurities bubble to the surface, I had to admit that their attraction was not unjustified.
Edward's shock of chestnut hair and stunning golden irises paired with the cold pallor of his skin might have seemed unsettling on someone else. But Edward's body, firm and chiseled like marble under a sculptor's careful hands, made his appearance all the more ethereal. His hard, strong jaw coupled with the just-right angle of his cheekbones offset a pair of rather large, pouty lips that often curled into unbelievably sexy expressions when he spoke. And he was deceivingly toned; any time I succeeded in ripping open the front of his shirt during a more reckless petting session, it never failed to surprise me how his biceps swelled and his chest tapered ever so slightly to meet where the muscles on his lower abdomen rippled just barely. He was, in a word, exquisite.
I was infatuated with him; his body, his mind, and the fact that he seemed to be equally as smitten with me. It was a love that was difficult to comprehend and harder to ignore. His animal magnetism in regard to me knocked the breath from my lungs each time he looked at me. Simple things - moving a strand of hair out of my face with nimble fingers, or kissing my temple with marble lips in such a way that they felt like satin against my skin - were the hardest to resist with him.
There was no plausible reason for Edward to love me. I was less than remarkable. I had nothing to offer him in return for the myriad ways he made my life significant. I was just a girl stumbling through life, and he was the pillar that guided me through it.
If ever I questioned his decision in regards to choosing me, he would close his eyes and say, "It wasn't a choice, Bella. It was simply a matter of fate." And then he would kiss me, and I would forget exactly what the question was in the first place.
He loved me, but he also coveted me in a way that was protective and carnal in nature. He practiced staggering restraint with me, but the strained, guarded look in his eyes betrayed his otherwise collected demeanor. The urgency of his desire rarely seeped through the exterior adamancy, and that made it increasingly difficult to quell the fire burning inside of me.
I pushed him, challenged him to test the borders of his resistance. I threw myself at him, unabashed. And then, when I started to believe that there was no way to put even a crack in Edward's immovable determination, he did the damndest thing. He proved me wrong.
He wanted me. But just how badly, I had no idea.
"There's no reason to put it off," I said. We were in the middle of the same recycled argument. I was more than ready, and I wanted to be with Edward. Edward sternly reminded me of the risks involved, pushing me away with annoying ease any time I hinted at the subject. But I needed the physical connection to him more than I could express through words alone. I kissed him, jutting my tongue lightly along his lower lip, and he inhaled quickly. "Please…? I can't be the only one suffering here."
Edward took hold of my arms, which were circled around his neck, and held them to my sides.
"I will not willingly subject you to harm to appease my own desires, Bella. It's out of the question."
"This isn't fair." I was openly pouting now. A low blow, but it elicited a frustrated sigh from his lips.
"Fair is not the issue at hand here. I could kill you. No amount of pleasure can justify that."
It felt like Edward and I were negotiating a business venture what with the formality of my demands and the harshness of his rebuttals. Every time I breached the subject of sex, Edward's stony resolve shut me down before I had any kind of a chance to argue my point. I was tired of having to fight him, but I could tell that Edward was wearing thin.
I sighed, moving from my position straddling his hips to sit next to him. We were in my bedroom, trying (I was the only one who had to try) not to make too much noise as to wake Charlie, who was asleep just across the hall.
"Sure it can," I said, my voice low, "if you would let me show you."
"That isn't going to happen."
I had attempted so many times to make him understand. And, the part of me that hadn't lost her mind to lust, understood Edward's reluctance. He was protecting me, plain and simple. But then there was the primal Bella that longed for Edward's touch, for all of him. That Bella didn't care about physical restraint or safety or logic. She was all passion and hunger and unquenchable desire. I couldn't pretend to ignore that Bella anymore. I didn't want to.
I turned to him again and placed my hands behind his head, tangling my fingers into his hair.
"Please, don't push me away," I said. He looked conflicted, and I had to admit, the pleading in my voice took even me by surprise. I was losing it.
Leaning in, I pressed a long, firm kiss to his lips. He was defiantly rigid at first, but he relaxed after a moment, sighing in defeat. His hands found the small of my back, pressing me to him tenderly as his mouth moved in rhythm with my own. I swiped my tongue across his lips, and he opened his mouth in compliance, much to my excitement. I traced the inside of his mouth with the tip of my tongue, tasting him, letting my hands rest on his smooth chest, toying idly with the buttons of his shirt and losing myself to the allure of the mesh of our bodies.
Edward moved his lips in a diagonal motion from my lips to my jaw, and finally to the curve of my neck, trailing soft, slow kisses. I moaned so quietly that to human ears, it was likely inaudible. Edward's kisses ceased hesitantly, but instead of detaching himself from me as per usual, he leaned up to whisper hotly into my ear.
"Do you know what you do to me, Bella?" His voice was rugged, and it sent a shiver through me.
I shook my head, gazing nervously at his face from beneath my lashes.
Before I could even comprehend what had happened, Edward was on top of me, kissing me everywhere, rough and urgent. He began to touch me, and I could have sworn I felt my body burst in to flames. At first his hands fluttered about, running up my thighs, down my stomach, caressing my face. But in one seamless movement, his hands left my cheeks and trailed down to rest on my chest. I involuntarily gasped at the new sensation, arching my back to press myself into his hands. He kissed me harder, more open, sloppy, and squeezed my clothed breasts, running his thumbs over my hardening nipples. I couldn't breathe, but I never wanted him to stop.
"Is this what you wanted?" he asked, his mouth still against mine. He was breathing heavily, not akin to my own lack of oxygen, but from what I could only guess was his own sexual anticipation. I could only nod in stunned silence, roping him closer with my locked arms.
"Tell me what you like," he said. The sensual, somewhat primitive nature of his voice caused a tingling sensation deep in my stomach, between my legs. I could hardly think of anything that I didn't like.
"Y-your hands," I said. I blushed, and a smile appeared on Edward's lips.
"That feels good?" He looked at his hands on my chest as if he were surprised at the pleasant sensation they caused.
"Very good."
"Hmm," was all he said, but then his lips were against mine again, and his hands continued their exploration, traipsing down to the edge of my shirt. He pushed the fabric up, and slowly pulled the left cup of my bra aside, letting his fingers brush the exposed flesh of my breast.
"And that?" he asked. Edward's voice was no longer frantic, but curious and tender and soft. It smoldered, the tingling in my stomach intensifying as he lifted his head to look into my eyes.
"Amazing," I said, barely conscious of anything but his touch.
"Good." The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. "Hold still."
Then, unhurried, he rocked his hips and pressed himself against me. I swallowed hard, feeling the firmness of his length in his jeans rubbing between my legs. He gasped, letting his mouth fall open, his breath coming in cool, ragged huffs on my neck. He worked my flesh in his hand, simultaneously massaging and working his hips in rhythm.
"Oh," I said, barely a whisper. My hands clutched the small of his back, guiding his hips into mine, matching his motion more firmly with each thrust. The anticipation of release was nearly enough to send me over the edge, and it took my full concentration to remember to move and breathe when I only wanted to writhe and groan at the friction between us.
Just as I thought I would go mad with the pleasure of it all, Edward gradually began to still the motion of his hips and hands, eventually lifting up to hover over me. He breathed heavily, lustfully, and ran the hand that wasn't balancing his weight above me through his hair, I assumed, to calm himself. He kissed my neck lightly for a few moments, as though to slow his already still heart, though my own hammered noisily in my chest.
Edward calmly positioned his mouth parallel to the perk of my nipple and placed one soft kiss upon it. Then, before I could even blink, he readjusted my bra and blouse and rolled us over so that I was in his arms, lying with my back against his chest.
"That was much easier than I thought it would be," he said, his tone thoughtful.
I frowned up at him. "What just happened? Why did you stop?"
Edward laughed quietly and kissed my hair. "Because - as they say - it's better to quit while you're ahead."
"But it was just getting good."
I heard him sigh. "I would call this a success, Bella."
I scoffed. "How so? Your clothes are still on."
His finger hooked under my chin, raising it so that I was looking at him. He looked much more sober than I felt. "You're alive, for one thing. Besides, taking our time gives us plentiful opportunities to… explore." He flicked his eyes to my chest as he finished his thought, and smiled as he met my gaze again.
He had a point; that much I could accept. But I was left with a feeling of dissatisfaction, an emptiness that I recognized as longing. I remembered something Edward had once said… something about enjoying the bouquet without tasting the wine. That might have been feasible in his analytical mind, but I needed a drink.
"You underestimate yourself," I said. "I thought you were doing a great job." Neither of us acknowledged the whine wedging its way into my voice. For a long moment, I stared unrelentingly at Edward, an unspoken challenge between us. He merely laughed, and I fumed back at him.
"Such rampant hormones you have."
"I could say the same of you." I could feel the sour, frustrated glower I was giving Edward, but he only smiled amusedly in return.
"Things could have gone one of two ways tonight, you know." He placed his hands atop my own, weaving our fingers together. Then he lifted my hands to place a kiss upon each palm. "The first I have already demonstrated," he said coyly.
"And the second?" I asked. When the only answer I received was in the form of one eyebrow raised in expectation, I groaned.
Edward's expression hardened. "Please understand. I'm not trying to punish you, Bella… The idea of hurting you frightens me more than anything else in existence. I did it once, and I vowed never to do it again. I want to keep that promise to you." He gazed at me, his eyes pleading. My face flushed in shame at myself. Edward wanted nothing more than to make me happy, and I could tell he was struggling with himself against his better judgment. I looked at my hands.
"I know." My voice was barely above a whisper. "I know it would be hard, but I wouldn't say that it's impossible. Even if it, um, hurts… Or if it's uncomfortable, I would tell you. I trust you. Just trust me back, okay?" The words came out in such a rush that I could barely understand them, but the look on Edward's face made it clear that he understood perfectly.
"Bella." Edward said my name as a demand of his full attention. I peeked up at him, embarrassed. "You have no idea how difficult it is to restrain myself. It would be so easy to take you… To let myself…" He tried to piece together his thoughts, his face giving away his frustration. For several minutes, he opened his mouth as to speak, but closed it each time with a furrow of his brow. As far as I could tell, he was having an argument with himself, and it didn't look like he was winning either way. I grew tenser each time he failed to verbalize the excuses I was so accustomed to, and it made me nervous. Finally, with a shrug and a quick shake of his head, he simply said, "Okay."
"What?"
Edward sighed. "I've tried to look at this situation from every possible angle, evaluating the outcomes and weighing the risks. But then, all of the passion is washed away. Something as utterly beautiful as the look of you, uninhibited as you were beneath me," Edward paused to sweep his eyes over me, "is not worth losing to over-calculation."
Like an idiot, I gawked at Edward, searching for the moment when he'd crossed the line into insanity. I hadn't expected him to back down so suddenly, if at all. My stomach turned nervously, my cheeks flushed; I wrung my hands, unable to return Edward's gaze with the kind of intensity present on his features without fainting. "I- um. Wow. Uh, well…" I scratched the back of my head, grasping for some thread of coherent thought.
Putting a finger to my lips to silence my gibberish, he said with a laugh, "No more talk." After a pause, he removed his finger and pressed his lips against mine deliberately, masterfully. My lips parted in response to his, and I reveled in the simultaneous hot and cold sensation his skin caused when it came in contact with mine.
When he pulled away, he was suddenly serious, his golden eyes glinting with yearning at what he was about to say. "I want you, Bella."
NOTE: This is my first attempt at a fanfic in quite a few years, so any reviews/critique would appreciated. I know it's kind of a generic plot, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless.