Esme picked up the phone warily. She glanced over her shoulder, wiping the tears from her cheeks as she dialed the number on the little white card that she had somehow managed to keep a secret from her husband. With each ring she debated hanging up, until the brief silence after the forth ring, then, the inevitable greeting.

"It's Esme. I need to see you," she whispered as quietly as possible with him still being able to hear her.

And, of course, he complied, agreeing to pick her up just down the street from her house. She managed to sneak out, though she didn't know how. But before she knew it, he was leading her by the hand out into the woods. She didn't speak as she had planned to—wanting to finally tell him how terrible Charles was to her. Instead, they walked for what seemed like a very long time in silence. He finally stopped and turned to face her, cupping her chin in his hand gently.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

She nodded, staring into his eyes. "Take me."

He reached up and caressed her cheek, running his fingertips down the length of her hair, then across her lips. Her mouth dropped open slightly as he pulled her close to him, leaning down toward her. She could see the mixed emotions in his eyes and ached to know what he was thinking and feeling. For a moment, she feared that he would stop, but he didn't. He kissed her. They remained there for a long time, though it still didn't seem long enough, carefully urging the kisses longer and deeper until she was panting. All of her skin tingled with the need to feel his lips against it as his kisses trailed down her chin to her throat.

"Kiss me," she encouraged as his lips parted to taste the sensitive skin at the curve of her shoulder. It made her tremble in his arms, and he picked up, carrying her like she was his bride.

She wasn't sure how she hadn't noticed the bed. There it stood in the middle of the woods with billowy sheer curtains hanging from the canopy rail, white satin sheets. But he laid her down there and slowly undressed her, revealing her body, tasting every inch of her skin when it was newly exposed, leaving her breathless when she was finally naked beneath him.

They locked eyes for a moment, and that is when it struck her that there was something beyond human about this unusually kind man. He was a great dichotomy: so much stronger than he appeared but so gentle. There was a depth behind his unique honey colored eyes that she had never seen before: he had a timeless gaze of great wisdom and suffering. She wanted nothing more than to make them alight with love and happiness. She had never wanted anything more than she wanted him.

Her fingers hastily undid the buttons down the front of his shirt, tugging his belt loose and opening his pants, tugging them down over his hips quickly. When his arousal brushed against her desperate body, she gasped.

"Carlisle," she pleaded, feeling unable to wait any longer.

He entered her slowly, his entire body sliding up the length of hers. She dropped her legs open farther in invitation, wanting all of him inside of her. For the first time, she felt no guilt or fear of this lust, of her body's longing. She arched her back and pushed her hips up to meet his thrusts, so gentle that they almost seemed hesitant. Her eyelids dropped closed, and she implored him again, feeling no shame, but so overwhelmed that all she could manage was to whisper "please" over and over.

His reaction thrilled her so intensely that she felt like she was going mad. He moaned, a deep, almost frantic, guttural sound as he pushed deeper into her, kissing the tender skin above her where her collarbone met, making her tremble.

"More." She urged softly at first until a choked sob escaped. "More, please, Carlisle. I need you."

"You don't have to beg, my angel," he said finally. "I'm yours. Completely."

Then he pushed his hips toward hers, filling her body, lifting her hips up off the bed and making her cry out with pleasure. He did it again and again until her whole form shook and tears leaked from her eyes as she gasped for breath between the helpless sounds that he drove from her lips. It made her peak so hard and so quickly that she tipped her head back and screamed, her nails digging into his back as her hips rocked up against his.

"Oh, Esme!" he cried, sounding like he was worshipping her, as he spilled into her. Then, he cupped the back of her head in one hand, the fingers of the other hand coiling with hers as he held himself up his elbows, gazing into her soft brown eyes.

"It doesn't make any sense, but I'm so in love with you," she confessed as he leaned forward to press his lips against hers.

Before he could reply something startled her, and she sat up. The movement was so sudden that it made her lightheaded. It took her a moment to realize what was happening. Her body followed her heart, sinking back down onto the bed where Charles was sleeping beside of her. It had only been a dream, of course. She pulled the blanket around her tightly, seeking a warmth she knew she would never find in this place as she looked out into the darkness at the dresser across the room, where she knew that Dr. Cullen's card was hidden in the panel of one of her drawers. And she couldn't help but wonder what he would really do if she got up and called him right now.