A/N: I'm really happy with the response this has gotten! Thanks everyone for the favorites, follows, and reviews! This will probably be the last chapter I post for a while; I'm finding it very difficult to write the next one! I'll have it written as soon as I can. Anyway, read on!

Bella once again stood in the kitchen making another meal; she vaguely wondered how many times she'd cooked for Charlie in the time she'd been there. May as well start counting now.

One.

The sound of the front door opening and closing reminded her that this particular meal was not just for Charlie and her. They'd be sharing this one, and many more, with Paul. Although, he'd probably be goading her instead of eating...

"Hey, boy. How'd your first day go?" she heard Charlie ask.

"Hey, Chief. It was okay, but there's this really annoying, blond kid that works there, too. Matt or something."

Charlie laughed loudly. "Oh, that's Mike Newton. Bella hates that kid. You'd better watch out, Paul. That boy's crazy about her."

She thought she heard Paul murmur, "No wonder I didn't like him."

She guessed he had, because Charlie started laughing so hard she thought he'd have a heart attack.

Paul chuckled and said, "I'm going to go get comfortable, Chief. Be right back down for dinner."

She waited for some sarcastic greeting or crude innuendo to come her way, but there was none. She turned slightly expecting to see him walking up the stairs; instead he was standing there silently watching her.

Then, just as quietly, he turned and made his way upstairs. Nothing? Wow. She thought.

Maybe he'd changed his mind about pursuing her. It was highly unlikely, but it would relieve her of making an effort to curb his advances.

She set the table and called to Charlie that it was time to eat. She set out a beer for him as he sat, and seconds later, Paul came down the steps wearing the tightest wife-beater she'd ever seen.

Throughout dinner, Paul's actions relayed to her clearly that he had definitely not forgotten his promise to her. Although he wouldn't talk directly to her, he'd ask her to pass him the salt or the pepper or a napkin. Pretty much anything. Each time, he had made sure that their hands touched. He'd caress her suggestively. Charlie remained completely unaware of these silent interactions, as Paul was keeping him occupied with talk of sports, politics, and whatever the hell else interested the male species.

The table was small and circular; therefore, they all sat relatively close together. The men sat across from each other and she sat slightly between them.

She regretted her choice of seating when a hand came to her left knee. The hand slowly, tantalizingly caressed its way up to her sensitive inner-thigh. It continued its torture by thumbing lazy circles there.

Bella was half-way between bliss and horror. Horror because he'd do this with Charlie sitting not seven feet from him. Bliss because what he was doing made her want...something. She vaguely knew what that something was; but she'd already determined that that was absolutely not going to happen.

"You okay, Bells? Looks like all the blood cells in your system are having family reunion in your face." Oh, crap. She did not need Charlie knowing what was going on under the table.

"Yeah, dad I just...made my food spicier than yours. I am feeling a little warm," she lamely dodged his question as she struggled to push Paul's hand away from her. She may as well have been trying to push Charlie's house to Phoenix.

"Uh, okay?" She really loved Charlie. Only he would overlook that lame excuse and not ask any further questions.

"Well, I'm gonna head up." She looked at Charlie in confusion. It was only nine o'clock. "I have to go in early tomorrow. See you two in the morning."

"See you, Chief."

"'Night, Dad," she said, a little too breathlessly for her liking.

As soon as she heard Charlie's door close, she slapped Paul's hand and scurried away toward the sink. Startled, Paul unwillingly complied in letting her go.

"What the hell, Bella!" he whisper-yelled.

"I can't believe you did that while he was right there! Seriously, Paul? You're not the one that could get put in jail for this. I am." She started grabbing up the dishes from the table and the counters, then headed to the sink and turned on the water, decidedly facing away from him.

"First, it's not my fault I can't keep my hands off of you. You had dinner ready for me when I got home from work, and you ask me not to be turned on? Not fucking possible."

Where the hell was the turn on in that? This was an on-going thing for them. Paul would tell her things about her that turned him on, but he always had to explain himself later because little things (that were weird and made absolutely no sense to her) got him excited.

When she was fifteen, he'd told her that her habit of biting her lip was sexy, and it made him want to do that to her, too. That he'd bite first then suck the pain away. It made him want to pull her tongue into his mouth with his own and twirl them around each other. A few days later he'd tried to do exactly that...

Anyway, she guessed she'd have to wait for an explanation on how making him food aroused him. "Second, there's no way Charlie would lock up his own daughter. Hell, he wouldn't do that to me either. You know as well as I do that if we went up and told him you were pregnant with my kid, right now, he'd be fine with it." She did know, but she wasn't going to tell him that. She could just see Charlie saying, "At least it was Paul." Of course, the only way Charlie would be almost completely fine with a teen pregnancy was if Paul was involved. Anyone else would have been shot where they stood, by both Charlie and Paul.

"And, third..."

She turned off the water and started to face him when it sounded as if he wasn't going continue. Apparently that's what he'd wanted because he had come up right behind her, and his face was now dangerously close to hers. Before she could escape, he'd placed his hands on the sink and pressed his body up against her own, effectively caging her within his grasp.

"Third," he said slowly, leaning in even closer, "You wouldn't be put in the slammer if it was just me 'sexually harassing' you. Unless, you'd planned to willingly participate in the deed." She wondered if there was anyway she could damage his face enough to make sure that smirk never came onto it again.

"Evidently, you've already thought about giving yourself to me, Bella. It doesn't seem so bad does it?" He leaned toward her neck, taking the skin there between his lips and sucking on it. She gasped in surprise at the sensations that small action brought.

"Stop," she whimpered helplessly.

He paused to say that he didn't want to and continued to torture her skin, but this time he made sure the entire left side of her neck wasn't left untouched by his lips. She gradually relaxed under his touch, and he switched to the other side of her throat after nipping at her earlobe.

"Paul, I...can't. P-please, just stop." Something hard pressed against her front. Somehow that hardness brought a hazy memory to the forefront of her mind, yet she couldn't take her focus off of the pleasure Paul was evoking in her long enough to reach it.

"Yes, you can," he said soothingly. "Just let yourself have what you want, Bella. I'll help you do it; just follow my lead." He kissed her then, his lips hard and demanding.

And just like that, his kiss brought forward another memory of when he'd locked his lips her own. Yes, she remembered now.

It was her last day staying in Forks until Christmas came. Paul was walking beside her toward the back of Charlie's house. She'd been annoyed with the thirteen-year-old when he'd told her he needed to ask her for something, privately; she still needed to pack a few things before her flight the next day.

"Okay, Paul. What was so important that you had to ask me out here rather than inside." Paul stood there hesitantly, and she was astonished as a blush crept into his cheeks. It was slight, but still there; and it was much more satisfying to see than his usual smirk.

"Paul?"

"I want a kiss," he blurted out. That was definitely not what she'd expected to hear. She wasn't completely surprised either, though. She decided to play dumb, thinking she might be able to run back into the house if she stalled him.

"Uh, from whom exactly?"

"From you! Who else would I have asked?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe, Leah Clearwater," she spat. Leah had a crush the size of Texas, and that crush was on Paul. She really hated Leah... Not because of her crush on Paul of course! Definitely not... She just hated her because Leah acted toward Paul the way he did to her. Couldn't she take a hint? Paul didn't like her and never would.

"You really shouldn't be jealous of her. That girl... God, she's so annoying. Although, I do appreciate your possessiveness."

"Excuse me? I am not jealous of anyone!"

"Anyways," he ignored her, "Since you're leaving tomorrow, and I won't see you for a few months... I just wanted one..."

"Uh, no," she replied, taking a step back.

"Why not?" he asked roughly, following her movement.

She continued to move backward. "Because-" Oh, crap. She'd backed up into the wall. He took advantage of her momentary panic, pressing her up against it.

"Please, just one. Please, Bella. I just want to so bad; let me just have this piece of you, if you won't give me anything else."

She wished he didn't sound so desperate. He almost made her believe he was serious. In her heart, she'd always wished that what Paul always said he felt for her was real, not just hormones. The more logical part of her said that thirteen-year-old boys would most assuredly equate their urges to love. She didn't want something like that. She wanted the real thing.

What she didn't know was that Paul's feelings toward her more real and pure than she would ever know. They were feelings that had formed within him when he was a mere child; now they were the feelings of a boy growing into manhood. Paul found it natural to want certain things with the person he cared most for, while Bella let her doubt of such things deter her from caring for him as well.

"I can't kiss you, Paul," she told him sternly. He only stayed there and seemed to ponder her words.

"You won't kiss me." She shook her head in reply. That familiar smirk was there all of a sudden. "But, I can kiss you."

With that said, he embedded his fingers into the hair at her nape, pulled her head back to an angle that suited him, and kissed her fiercely. She futilely struggled against him. How could he be this big when he was only thirteen? He was taller than her by a least half a foot, and he was already developing impressive muscles. Those muscles taunted her as if saying, "You didn't really think you'd escape, did you?"

Something in the front of Paul's pants dug into her stomach, and it was very uncomfortable... She had a mini panic-attack when she felt it start growing. What the hell did he have in there?

Her thoughts strayed from the freaky growing thing in Paul's pants when she felt him first bite then suck her bottom lip into his mouth. When he snaked his tongue into her mouth and caressed hers, she realized he was trying to do what he'd said he wanted to do to her a few days prior. She was surprised that it actually felt kind of...good. In fact, it felt amazing.

Well, it didn't look as if she was going anywhere anytime soon. She might as well enjoy the kiss. She'd be mad again when he stopped.

Paul continued, alternating between licking, sucking, and biting at her lips and tongue. He was basically trying to eat her mouth... That almost sounded appealing, and for the briefest of moments, she found herself kissing him back. Then she was completely appalled at her action and hoped he hadn't noticed.

Five more minutes went by before Paul seemed to think her lips had been thoroughly pummeled by his own. He looked down at her with wonder, and something else she didn't want to name.

"Wow," he said in awe.

"Are you done now?" she asked breathlessly.

He only laughed, and she squirmed out of his arms. She backed away slowly before angrily saying, "Goodbye, Paul."

"See you at Christmas, Bella!"

She ran into the house and locked herself in her room. She didn't come out for the rest of the night.

She hadn't come back for Christmas that year. Or the next. Or last year. She'd been too angry that first year. He'd just taken her first kiss like he'd had every right. Yes, she'd known it was his first kiss too, but that hadn't made it any better...

"Bella."

"Hm?"

"Kiss me back," he demanded harshly.

He gave her no time to reply, his lips angrily slanting over hers. His mouth moved over hers again and again commanding her to respond to him, and she did. He groaned at feeling her move against him.

"God... You taste even better than you did that summer," he said not moving from her. She moaned, the slight brushing of their lips as he spoke unexpectedly sensual. His husky voice made warmth pool in her stomach; it made her think of all kinds of bad things she shouldn't think about him.

"Like... Oh, God. Fucking strawberries."

When she twirled her tongue around his, he whimpered and pressed himself against her again. That hardness was there at her stomach again, and it grew more each time her tongue chased his. Suddenly, all those mortifying sex talks with her mother came back to her; and she knew what the "freaky growing thing in Paul's pants" was. At the realization, she pushed Paul away from her, much to his surprise.

First he looked shocked, but anger soon distorted his handsome features.

"Why didn't you come back that Christmas?" he asked sharply.

She wasn't looking at his face though. Her eyes stayed glued to his crotch. The huge basketball shorts were tented, and the subsequent bulge was terrifyingly big. He'd told her she affected him as such, but to see the tangible truth of his words both aroused and frightened her.

She looked up at him and saw understanding there. He'd understood that she hadn't rejected him, was only frightened at his intensity; she was glad he did.

He sighed and came toward her. He turned her towards the sink and told her that he'd rinse and dry. As they began, he once again asked her why she hadn't come back for Christmas the year he'd kissed her.

She quietly replied, "I was mad..."

"Because I kissed you?"

"You took my first kiss, Paul."

"Yep," he said, suddenly looking proud of himself. She elbowed him in the ribs.

"Hey, it was my first kiss, too! Don't be like that."

"But, I didn't give you permission to take mine! You just acted like you owned it..."

"You're supposed to be mine; so yes I did own it," he said smugly.

"Ugh, you're so-"

"Sexy?"

"No-

"Irresistible?"

"Definitely no-"

"Don't give me that. Willingly or otherwise, you've always responded to me."

Why did he always have to be right? It was annoying; he should just not talk. At all. Ever again.

"I had a present for you that year..." he continued somberly. "And another the next year in case you came back. Last year too."

She didn't like the guilt that coursed through her at his admission. So she asked him a question and attempted to ignore it.

"What did you get me?" She passed him another plate.

He looked happy that she'd asked him that.

"That first year I got you a dog-tag necklace that I had engraved. It said 'Paul's Girl' on the front and 'Property of Paul Lahote' on the back."

She looked at him incredulously, but he ignored her.

"I remember, after I had gotten it, Charlie had brought my fuck of a father home from the bar, and he saw it. Damn near peed himself laughing and said you'd love it. I thought he might have told you, because you didn't come back.

"The next year I decided to just get you a chain with heart-shaped pendant on it. And then you still didn't come back.

"Last year I decided I'd give you both of those presents, and I'd actually made you a bracelet. But I only saw you during summers and didn't see you as much. So I couldn't have given you the first two, not properly, anyway."

"Okay, I'd have accepted the second and third ones. The dog-tag necklace...would have been embedded in your face approximately two seconds after I read what was on it."

They laughed.

"Thirteen-year-old you was incorrigible. Actually, I'm pretty sure you'll always be that way."

"I think precocious is a more accurate word, Miss Swan."

Their laughter dissipated into a pregnant silence; they finished washing the dishes.

"So was that one better than the first one?" he asked suddenly, drying his hands.

"What?"

"The kiss. Was it better than the first one?"

She was silent and thought she shouldn't have kissed him back like he wanted, shouldn't have let him know that he did affect her. She should have stayed indifferent and unyielding. It wouldn't happen again, she decided.

"You shouldn't have kissed me Paul..." she told him quietly.

She could almost feel the air shift; fury replaced the comfortable atmosphere. He was livid now.

A/N: I read the part where Paul says, "Fucking strawberries," again while I was rereading this chapter, and I thought that there really is nothing like the taste of strawberries having intercourse... Anyhow, be good and review!