A/N: I own nothing to do with Twilight, clearly. I am just a super big fan. Who doesn't love Edward and Bella? ;)

Summary:

To Bella, it was a simple no-strings-attached, one nightstand to a stranger she felt deeply attracted to. But little does she know, to Chicago police officer Edward, it meant so much more. How far is Edward willing to go to make her his? He's certainly not above stalking and breaking & entering. Darkward.

Rating: Will most likely go up to an M rating; due to lemons, violence, and some bad language.

Number One Crush

I would die for you,
I've been dying just to feel you by my side,
to know that you're mine.
Violate all the love that I'm missing,
throw away all the pain I've been living,
you will believe in me,
and I can never be ignored. I
would die for you,
I would kill for you,
I will steal for you,
I'd do time for you,
I will wait for you,
To be close to you.
- Number One Crush, Garbage.

BPOV

The music is heavy metal, loud and goading, with crashing cymbals and an ear-shattering bass-line.

When I close my eyes and let the darkness underneath my eyelids swallow me whole, I lose myself in it.

I'm tossing my long dark hair back and forth around my shoulders, I'm swinging my hips from side to side, I'm flinging my arms around in the air in front of me. I'm dancing to the wild music like a young girl possessed. It makes me feel wonderful, wild and free. I'm a girl unleashed. A wailing guitar sounds off and then the drums start pulsing and crashing manically, reverberating right through to the soles of my feet, upwards.

But then as my eyes flicker open and the music finally comes to a crashing stop; I am suddenly plunged into a deep self-conscious awareness. I'm no dancing queen, I'm not good on my feet, and I can't move around the floor gracefully like they do in the ballet.

No, I'm only an insignificant, mousy-haired college student, with a white plaster cast adorning her left middle finger from dislocating it, tagging along in some heavy metal nightclub moshing to a live band for the very first time in Chicago with an older, curvier, and far more self-possessed and easy-footed close friend; Alice Cullen, my best friend and roommate in a two-person's dorm at college.

I peer from left to right and quickly realize I've become a little separated from her while letting my dancing take over and consume me, so I shimmy my way back over to her.

Through the flickering glare of the deep red lights, I find she's grinning broadly at me, not in a mean way that makes me feel self-conscious or embarrassed, but definitely in a surprised encouraging way.

She is dancing near a pale tall, skinny fair-haired guy, who is wearing a Sex Pistols band T-shirt and dark skinny jeans, with a pair of Converse sneakers. They had clearly been moshing together, because he looks a little downcast when she grabs me by the arm and starts weaving her way with me through the sea of moshers away from him.

"Oh, Bella, you were getting so into it," she laughs at me loudly through the music as a new song slowly drifts to a start; This time, the song is more easy on the bass-line and yelling. Less goading and heavy, a little like a rock ballad.

I laugh back at her, as we trudge our way through our heels to the bar to buy ourselves a refreshing drink. To my surprise, I'm already sweating underneath my arms and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. My hair feels like damp long ropes that cling to my bare shoulders and my neck and my face feels all flushed and sweaty.

Getting into it definitely seemed an understatement, considering.

As the female bartender at last gives us her attention, Alice orders two French Martini's, then gets started on making the lethal concoction, pouring a generous amount of gin and vodka into a metal shaker and getting her shake on, like it's a huge silvery maraca. I take the time to study the nightclub again; It's very full tonight and crowded, unsurprisingly. The nightlife in Chicago city, I heard, was very crazy. This nightclub was definitely living up to the reputation.

Alice and I usually avoid nightclubs and parties like the plague, but tonight, we decided to go out and celebrate getting through our first semester of college unscathed. Everything about this club was quite hard to swallow, frankly. It was definitely the scene for headbangers and pot-smokers, which neither of us was of course.

But somehow, despite how out of place we must have looked in our slinky dresses while everyone else mainly wore clothes consisting of leather, buckles, short skirts or tight jeans, with combat boots and sneakers rather than heels, we seemed to be fitting in nicely. We were having a great time.

As the bartender sets our rimmed Martini glasses on the counter, she asks for our I.D. Like we would actually try order a drink underage anyway. Alice hands hers first, then I do. She scrutinizes mine for a longer length than she did Alice's, then gives a grim nod and hands mine back. I blow out a relieved breathe of air; We passed her little test, and now we were free to take our drinks elsewhere to find a vacant table to sit.

I hold my French Martini very carefully as we start our way slowly through the line at the bar, searching for somewhere to sit and drink. Just as we manage our way through the busy line without any spillage whatsoever, I catch sight of him. A very handsome man, about in his early twenties or thirties or so, standing across the room from the bar, adjacent to an empty blood red pine table.

There is nothing headbanger-ish about him at all.

While I have the chance to, I give him the good-once over; my dark eyes falling straight down to the very tip of his shoes and back up again. He's wearing polished light brown loafers and he's a little over six-foot, I estimate. He also is looking very immaculate in a dark grey business suit that clings to him in a very professionally tailored fashion.

He has a very masculine face, an appealing jaw, and his hair is a sort of thick hot golden red, combed straight back and slick with hair-gel; though a few strands stand up chaotically at the sides, probably due to a hectic day of... lord knows what he does for a living. He has a nice pair of dark arched eyebrows and his lips are the most kissable shape I have ever seen in a man before. To my disappointment, I can't see what color his eyes are, considering how fluorescent the room is with the flickering lights but they were looking pretty dark shining in the half-light.

Squinting through the lights as I follow on Alice's tail, I find that he is holding a beer in one hand- a set of long sinewy fingers curling around the narrow neck of the bottle- and grasping a cell phone in the other hand that was dangling by his side.

I wonder if he was here on business, or if he was just here to let loose and enjoy the evening. He didn't seem like the type of guy to be a fan of heavy metal, though. As they say however, appearances can be deceiving.

Alice, who shoots a look behind her shoulder in my direction, follows my gaze over to his part of the room inquiringly. I'm fairly sure I hear her laugh through the piercing music. It makes me feel incredibly nervous and the insides of my stomach churn in apprehension. I deliberately turn my attention elsewhere, gluing my eyes to the back of Alice's rippling scalp of mousy brown short hair.

At long last, we find ourselves a table and sit, placing our drinks carefully in front of it. I'm finding myself unbearably parched- from both the dancing and the embarrassment of Alice having caught me out ogling the cute guy from across the room- so I grasp at my long straw and swoop my head down to chomp on the end of the plastic with my two front teeth.

I take in a few small sips and let the cool liquor sit on the bed of my tongue for a few seconds before swallowing it down. The vodka and gin produces a very bitter, yet salty tinged aftertaste, and I can't help but cringe a few times as it settles down my throat and into my stomach. Usually, I was not a heavy drinker. I barely even touched alcohol, only on special occasions that called for it- like flying home to Florida for the weekend to see my mother, in which she'd pluck out the champagne with my unexpected visit. I could already feel the small amount going straight to my head.

Every now and then, I find my eyes darting over to check and see whether the gorgeous man had left the premises or not and, luckily for me, each and every time I did, I found him still standing there; his beer bottle always dangling at his side untouched. Occasionally, he'll look across the room but his eyes never settle on anything or anyone who seems to capture his interest. What a hunk, though.

Every time he did get closer to looking in my direction, I felt my pulse would instinctively quicken and my breathing would grow shallow.

Maybe my fascination for him was obvious, because Alice was speaking again: "Bella, you should go introduce yourself to him. Clearly you want to. Don't be a pussy." Heaven knows I sure wanted to.

I play with my straw, avoiding her eyes. "I don't know Alice. He is probably waiting for someone. I don't want to embarrass myself."

"Bella, stop thinking so negatively about yourself," she says in outrage, a little louder than is necessary. "You look great in your dress and any guy can see that! Just go over there and give it what you've got! There is no harm done in trying, right?"

I consider in silence for a long moment, all kinds of tense. My pulse went again with its racing at the mere thought of going over to him and I felt what resembled butterflies fluttering away in my stomach with the anxiety.

I knew Alice was right. What harm done in heading over there and introducing myself to a man I found handsome and fascinating? It took me a few desperate gulps to swallow all of my Martini down and once finished, I rose from my chair.

Feeling an extra spur of boldness- though, unsure whether it was the alcohol giving me the confidence or not- I start my way towards him in my heels. I prayed internally that my hair was still neat and controlled without an ounce of frizziness in sight, and that my dark red lipstick was still on and not smeared.

It felt like it had taken me years just to reach across the room a hair's length away from where he was standing and it seemed the gentle clicking of my heels signalled my approach, because he glanced up at me from the screen of his cell phone and it was then the spur of boldness left almost suddenly, like a flame being doused by water.

I was torn in that instance, frantically debating on whether I ought to turn right around and run back over to Alice's table. Heaven knows I wanted to. But it was too late now, I realized. He had already noticed me approaching; plus it would have seemed weird and immature if I had turned right around and headed back.

My palm feels all slick as he continues staring at me and I have to wipe it down along the fabric of my dress before extending it out to him. Even then, my hand is trembling uncontrollably; I was positive he noticed, too, when his eyes darted down to take notice of what my hand was doing in front of me.

One corner of his mouth lifts into a hesitant smile as his eyes burn into my own. They feel as if they are going right... through me to the very back of my head. He's even taller than I realized; my head only reaching halfway to his shoulders, which makes me feel very... awkward.

Before I know it, he is bending down and his mouth is right near my right ear. I feel frozen and completely numb from the neck downwards, as he breathes on me, while he shouts in my ear, "Can I help you with something?"

His voice is very smooth, very impersonal; a voice I find I instantly quite like hearing.

"I-I don't know," I stammer back loudly, resolved on refusing to meet his eyes now that I found out it was just too daunting of an experience.

"You don't know?" He speaks in my ear again; this time a little chuckle slipping through with the words. It makes my skin tickle and I feel all the blood from my body rush up to my ears. What a voice he has. "There must be a reason why you came over here?" he prompts, in what sounds to me a very teasing manner. "Can I get you a drink or would you like to have a dance maybe?"

"A dance?" I breathe out. Well, that was quite unexpected. "With you?"

Another small chuckle slips out. "Yes, with me. If you want; no pressure."

"Now?" I wonder if he's able to pick up on how I'm only able to answer him in short phrases right about now.

"Yes now," he replies, like it's obvious.

"Oh, well. Yes, let's do it," I say quickly, with a short internal groan of embarrassment. I couldn't dance for the life of me- I only did it mainly to amuse myself, not deliberately in front of others. And definitely not in front of someone I was keen on making a good impression on.

Unexpectedly, he takes hold of my hand and slips his fingers in between mine. He turns to place his beer bottle on the vacant table beside us, and then we're off, silently to find ourselves a safe spot in the mosh area to dance. I wasn't going to kid myself; his hand felt nice while it held mine and the pad of his thumb was constantly rubbing and stroking gently across my palm in a repetitive motion that made my body feel as if it was on fire for him.

Once he found a clear spot where he felt certain we wouldn't be at risk of being jabbed into by a pair of elbows or trodden onto by a pair of heavy combat boots, he turns to peer down at me into my eyes intently. It's then that I can finally manage to make out the color of his eyes; A dark penetrating green that shines and sparkles, depending on which way the glare of the ceiling lights hit them.

He takes my other hand and we start moving uncertainly; stepping side to side around the little invisible circle we have created for ourselves. The heavy metal music was too loud and fast a tempo for our steps, so we probably looked hilarious to the invisible eye.

"What happened to your finger?" he asks loudly, fingering the cast curiously.

I blush. "I accidentally dislocated it."

"Clumsy, are we?" he teases, shooting me a very adorable smile that honestly has me melting inside. Gosh, what is wrong with me? He's adorable; is only the logical explanation I can come up with.

"Something like that, yeah."

I feel a big smile pull up the corners of my mouth as he leans down over me again.

"What's your name?" he asks, sounding as if he really wants to know.

"Bella," I call back quickly, without a second's worth of hesitation at all. I'm slowly finding my confidence, at last. "What's yours?"

"Edward." Edward. That makes the smile on my face even bigger; It was a nice name for a nice, gorgeous man. It seems to fit him, too.

He leans down again, speaking just the tiniest notch higher over the guitar riff that is now breaking out between us, "Turn over."

I don't think I've heard him correctly so I shake my head uncertainly, unable to grasp what he's saying.

"Turn around," he says, louder this time. He adds in a little spinning gesture with his hand.

I smile and nod. He returns the smile with a crooked one of his own, which does amazing things to the lower part of my body, then I do as he says, turning my back to him. He puts his hands on each side of my hips, strong fingers picking at the sheer material of my dress. I can't see him now, but I can certainly feel him, more than anything, behind me. He takes a step forward and then I am graced with a warm heat along my shoulders and my back as he presses his chest into me.

I gave out a moany gasp of surprise which thankfully, the heavy metal music drowned out from anyone hearing.

His hands guide my hips, shimmying them back and forth in a movement which was easy to learn and effortless to follow. I could feel my mind switching off and my body taking over to the sensations as I felt a certain part of his material covered crotch pressing into my backside. It seemed I wasn't the only one breathing heavily. His breathing was uncontrolled, too. I could tell, because of the way it was blowing on the nape of my neck in warm gushes of uncontrolled exhales.

One hand starts drifting, moving in a circular motion over the flat of my sheer-material clad stomach. Then, he slid in closer to press his crotch heavily in my thigh and I found then he was definitely in the mood for more business after this one dance. And I felt that way too, funnily enough.

My whole body seemed to be going haywire for him, as well as my libido hopping up and down wildly. While sex was something I had limited experience in, I definitely was capable of assessing that this could turn into something more serious between us than just a shared dance. I was conflicted; I certainly wasn't one to jump into bed with a random stranger but at that moment, I knew I didn't want him to be just some guy. I wanted to get to know him and, I was hoping, he would want the same too.

But as for now, I had only one goal in mind. And that was to... enjoy the moment that had presented itself. Maybe it was the delayed after effects of the drink I'd just consumed, but the butterflies in my stomach had soon been replaced with nothing more but a bubble of sheer desire and want.

With a sudden spur of courage, I find myself murmuring: "Can I spend the night at your place or you at mine?"

"Pardon?" He sounds unsure and clearly as if he hasn't heard me through the music.

I take the hand on my hip and guide it lower, just to right where my pulsing nub would be through my dress.

I think I feel it vibrate through his chest over my shoulders, as he groans a little. "You want to leave with me and I'll drive us to my apartment?" He certainly sounds startled.

Instead of answering, I release his hand and go behind my back, finding the seam of the crotch of his suit trousers where his erection is bulging. Deviously, I rub with my fingers against the tent in his trousers to show him just how much so I'd like to go back to his apartment with him. Another low groan comes from inside him, vibrating, and I feel him shudder.

"God, let's leave right now," he says in my ear, in a very controlled and demanding voice.

With a little teasing of his own, he begins kissing his way down around my shoulder-blade area. His mouth was very warm and talented, his teeth nipping and tongue swirling. I gave out a heavy sigh and a moan of my own.

I definitely was not in the mood to linger and delay it any longer. My body was literally aching for him, singing out with need.

"Yes," I pant, a little raggedly. My hand searches to find the bulge in his trousers again, desperately seeking and groping. Instead, my fingers close over something a metallic cool and heavy. Definitely not his penis, that's for sure. How disappointing.

"Fuck, Bella," he almost shouts in my ear, and before I know it, everything has come to a stand-still. I almost whimper in loss of the sexual contact when he takes a step, and I turn to look over my shoulder at him, his green eyes heavy-lidded with desire and breath quick and shallow. "You have to be careful where you touch me, sorry," he says, very agitatedly.

I blink and stare, confused. Then, as my eyes fall down onto what he is holding in his hands, it all comes clear and crashing down onto me; He has a silvery handgun in a leather holster around his belt.

A handgun? Why on earth would someone have a handgun with them in a nightclub like this?

My stomach flops. "Why do you have a gun?" I ask, suspicion etching through every word. "Are you a cop? Do you work for the state police, or something?"

"It's that exactly." He hesitates for a long moment and I notice some of the desire for me has left from his expression. "I work for the Chicago police department, but...enough with the introductions right now; That can wait until later." He pauses and slips a very warm arm around the crook of my neck.

Ok, I didn't know why, but the fact he was an officer of the law and that he most definitely wore a uniform and even had himself a badge made him seem more appealing physically in my eyes.

He leans down and I am unable to contain the shriek that escapes through my parted lips as his mouth closes over my ear. "Let's go to my apartment, I can't stand the delaying any longer," he says, and his voice sounds strained. "I want to make love to you all night through the early morning hours, and I know you feel the same way."

I feel my cheeks redden over the soft, seductive words he has uttered, and I was positive he noticed. He's just so straight-forward and leaves nothing to doubt. It's refreshing that he doesn't want to play games. Realistically, I shouldn't have been so quick to head into an unknown strangers apartment and have sex with him, but oddly enough, I kind of find myself wanting to with him. It was so unbecoming of me. Only my body was winning out on all types of logical thinking tonight. It longed to be kissed, caressed, touched and sucked.

Oh, to hell with thinking and being the responsible one tonight.

I didn't think we'd even be able to make it into his apartment, because once we slipped into the elevator to take us up to the fifth floor of the tan brick five-storied building that housed his apartment, the kissing and touching started again. I hadn't quite experienced such pleasure from being kissed before but, like I said, his mouth was oh so talented. His hands too; His hands were restless, teasing and plucking the fabric of my dress, while he had me pressed flat against the elevator wall.

I felt I could have exploded any minute now.

Clearly, he knew how to hit all the right buttons; he kept murmuring tender words of encouragement about my body, saying how beautiful I was and how he couldn't wait to see what was left of me underneath the dress, which was really nice. No one had ever bothered to go to such lengths to say those things to me before, and just as my hands were flying up to the hair on the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in the short smooth strands, I realized I hadn't said much back to share my own sentiments on just how nice I believed he looked. It was hardly thoughtful not to say anything in return at all.

"You are so handsome."

His lips still against my mouth. "Pardon?" He murmurs back. He actually sounded shocked.

"You've told me how beautiful you think I am," I whisper, too embarrassed to repeat what it was he actually had said out loud, because he had really said a whole lot more than that, some words turning out rather crude. "I just wanted to let you know I think you're incredibly gorgeous, just in case you, uhm, didn't think I thought that about you."

He laughs raggedly and I feel it shake his chest. Then at true last, the elevator doors dinged to an open on his apartment floor. It couldn't have signalled at a better time, honestly.

Then we were off again, kissing whilst treading our way blindly, neither of us quite sure which way we were heading. I assumed we had come to a correct stop at the door of his apartment, though, because he disengaged his lips from mine to turn and fish his keys out of his trouser pockets. He was still breathing unevenly as he flung the door open and beckoned me in silently to enter. Funny thing was, my breathing was just as uneven and shallow.

As he switched on a light and shut his door, I found myself dying to latch onto him again, to kiss him, to tear his clothes off. It was startling; I hadn't ever felt such a raging desire to be so close to a man before sexually, to be so physically intimate.

"So if you think I'm handsome," he teases, just to make any form of polite conversation to erase the awkward silence between us, I think, "Which part of me do you find yourself most fond of?" He was teasing, and I could tell. I give out a shaky giggle.

I have to think hard. How was it possible to pick just one part of him? "Probably your eyes," I admit easily without hesitation, making a point of staring deeply into them.

"My... eyes?" He sounds playfully outraged.

Unable to help myself, another giggle slips out. "Yes, definitely the eyes." I'm beginning to feel like a giddy school girl about to do something very naughty and incredibly exhilarating all at the same time. Maybe it's the alcohol doing it to me; the French Martini I had earlier at the nightclub? Oh, well; I suppose that was the reason for all the laughter.

"That's quite... disappointing honestly. I would have rathered you said something else instead."

I know what he is hinting at and I feel a huge surge of heat cover the whole of my face. I grin and he shoots a closed-mouth smirk my way. His eyes glint, with mischievousness. I try to make my voice as seductive as possible, as I whisper, "Well, I haven't seen that part of you yet. But I'm sure once I have, I'll be bound to like it exactly like the rest of you..."

Before I know it, he is kissing me again while his long arms and hands move to circle around my back, searching for the zipper of my dress. His fingers find it, and he tugs it down effortlessly. We didn't lose the clothes yet, though; We stand there for what feels almost a lifetime, going on and on with our kissing blissfully. It felt nice to not be in such an urgent rush, to be simply biding our time.

I fling my arms around his back to close off the distance of our bodies for good and lean up on my tiptoes a little to deepen the kiss. He shows his appreciation in my gesture by giving a nice little noise, and even I am unable to hide the little noises I give off myself as he begins rocking his groin forward exactly at the wet mound between my legs, causing just the right amount of hot friction through my dress. My hands rub along his shoulders helplessly; I was itching for the moment he'd lose all of his clothes myself.

"Your bedroom," I moan in desperation, unable to take the waiting any longer.

Obediently, he was steering me along while we kissed, always to the same quick tempo with our tongues while his hands massaged the back of my scalp. A light clicks on. His bedroom lamp.

Urgently, my hands run down the front of his shirt before my fingers start working with opening the buttons. It proves a lot harder than I would have deemed it necessary; My dislocated finger and the cast seeming to get into the way. I almost cry loudly in frustration but then somehow I had finally managed it.

Making sure I'm watching and that my eyes are on him every step of the way, he takes a step backwards and starts undressing, letting my eyes drink in all of him while he stands by the bed, the lamp light bathing him in a generous yellow glow. He removes his suit jacket and shirt quickly, then folds them just as quick, neatly on the bedside table near his bed. I stare at his chest, drinking it all in unapologetically. He looks even better shirtless than I imagined; He's well-built and toned, though not overly so, and a small patch of reddish-brown hair covers his chest.

I gain even more pleasure witnessing the removal of his trousers. He undoes the belt buckle on his holster and sets his gun onto the table very gently on top of his folded clothes. I discover he is wearing tight grey briefs and they do nothing to conceal the bulge supported underneath. He doesn't take them off, though; he stares at me expectantly, waiting. I gather what he is hinting at immediately and slid out of my dress without hesitation.

His eyes run down my body very slowly, taking in the black bra I'm wearing and equally as black boyleg shorts. My eyes take in all of him again, just the same. I never believed anyone could look so sexually tempting and daunting in my entire life, but I wasn't exactly complaining.

I take a small step closer toward him, and he follows suit. With the height difference and him being as tall as he was, my five-foot-four stature made me on an eye-level to his chest, just right where his hairless nipples and chest were. I decide to take advantage of the height difference between us, and make a start on his chest. I lean forward and kiss my way up and down, before finally closing my lips around one of his nipples and he grunts, very loudly. I was extremely pleased by his reaction.

"Bella, the bed," he says roughly, as if a little reminder. "If you keep this up, I'll be coming and I want to be inside you when I do. Is that okay?"

Like he had to ask for my permission.

I nod, biting my lip anxiously while he moves to pull the bed sheets down. I stretch out my hand and run it along the covers, indulging in the feel. Silky cotton sheets. As he throws a pair of decorative pillows on the floor, I feel one of his fingers curl and tug at the elastic band of my shorts, so I pull them down and slip them off my ankles. I was too embarrassed to look him straight in the face while being pantiless, so I didn't. Still, I hear him give out a deep whoosh of air. Then, I slid into the bed first, sighing at the warmth the sheets presented and then slowly he did too. Soon, I spread my legs out widely and he was directly on top of me and the warmth his body presented as it pressed into mine was even more comforting than the bed sheets.

Once I turned my head to stare him deeply in the eyes, we continued; picking up on where we'd just left off, though him with a little more eagerness than before.

His long fingers move my hair very gently out-of-the-way and he turns his face into my neck, startling me with a trail of gentle, yet sometimes rough kisses along my throat. I exhale a moan loudly as I gaze up at the ceiling; hands and fingers tracing up the curved outline of his spine along his back, and down again. He pants my name repetitively between kisses, and the way he chants my name; it's a heartwarmingly tender and gentle caress.

Soon, unable to take the delay any longer, he positions himself directly on top of me while breathing raggedly; Hands propping himself up, ready to enter. He positions his tip right at the right spot, and then slowly he pushes in. I give out a sound, short of a gasp, and squeeze my eyes shut in surprise at the pain; I had only had sex a few times before, and that was with my ex boyfriend of a year, Jacob. I didn't suspect it would be painful again, but it was.

"Bella," he pants hoarsely. "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm really good! But... shouldn't we use a condom?"

I hear him make a grunt from in the very back of his throat, a very shocked one. "Sorry, I don't know why... but I... forgot." He sounds very apologetic. There's a gentle scraping noise where I suspect he is opening the drawer near his bed. A second later, he gives out a low curse. "Why does this have to be happening to me now?" I hear him groan, very frustrated and tense.

I open my eyes and peer up at him quickly. Yeah, he is definitely frustrated, especially sexually. "What is it?" I lift my hands to cup each side of his face gently. He scowls. "What's wrong?"

He hesitates, sounding very annoyed at himself, "I don't have any."

"Oh." I was surprised. I mean, he was a very good-looking man, extraordinarily so. I figured somehow women would have gone apes over him. At the same time, I was met with a profound feeling of relief. "You don't have any? I'm sorry, I don't have any either. I don't even think to, um, buy them. As you probably noticed, this doesn't happen to me a lot."

A small smile softens his face. "Likewise. I don't go out of my way to intentionally invite a girl over to my apartment. You're the first, in fact." That was both very exciting and reassuring to know.

Before I know it, it flies out of my mouth so carelessly, that I don't even recognize myself. "Well, it's okay. We don't need one."

"Really?" He sounds stunned out of his wits yet, at the same time, as if he is pleased. Then he says something else completely unexpected, that surprises me. "Will you stay over for the night? Can I make you eggs and blueberry pancakes in the morning for breakfast?"

Though him offering to make me breakfast in the morning wasn't nearly as big a deal as I'd made it out to be, it shocked me that he would even bother to ask. I was positive this usually wasn't normal for a one nightstand. Usually, the person gets up and leaves before the other wakes, leaving no more than a scribbled 'Thank you for last night' post-it note on a pillow. I could tell then that he wanted this to become something more.

"Yes," I reply, snaking my arms around him; fingers digging softly into the bare skin on his warm muscular shoulders, "You have no idea how nice sleeping over and having breakfast with you sounds, Edward."

Little did I know, just how much one little decision- having spontaneous sex with this gorgeous stranger, and tomorrow morning, accepting an innocent early hearty breakfast with him- would change my life forever in unimaginable ways.

Does this sound like something you will be interested in more of? It's a little early to tell, but Edward will be quite manipulative and obsessed with our Bella. Good times, I'll say ;)

Please review, it would really encourage me. Thanks for reading.