AN: I do not own Twilight or any recognizable bits!

Warning: please do not read if you are under 18 or offended or tender towards adult situations, sexual situations, or violent situations. As written in the description of the story, Bella has experienced trauma - - that is not pretty. Also, Edward is going to help bring our Bella back to the land of the living - - that will be pretty, but not for everyone. ;)

Enter the inked up, sexed up, beautiful muse of the story…

Last time…

With warm hugs and smiles my two best friends head off into the night. Their happiness and love linger a bit, but I'm left feeling apprehensive nonetheless. I know I'll need to tell them sooner or later. And what the hell am I going to do about some local-yokel gossip queen seeing my scars on a massage table? Shit. I feel the panic trying to claw its way up my throat.

It's late, but as is my usual pattern these days, I get to work avoiding sleep and avoiding the dreams. By the time I pass out on my bed of exhaustion I've cleaned up the mess from my friends' visit, made a key lime pie for the picnic, and have unpacked more boxes of linens, books, and pictures. The last image I see before my eyes closed is a dusty old framed photo of our group of friends at the Forks Annual Summer Festival when I turned 18, seven years ago. In it are a bunch of young kids with faces kissed by the sun and the carefree hopeful look of youth: Rose and Emmett, holding one another tightly; Alice and Jasper who are making eyes at one another; Jake and several of his "pack" of brothers from the Rez, including a glowing Leah; and me and Edward. I sigh. No one mentioned Alice and Emmett's brother Edward tonight, my old crush. I wonder what he's up to…

"I will bathe in your blood, Isabella. You will watch me anoint myself with your body's essence and you will worship me."

The leather whip cracks again and again like lightening.

I wake up with a gasp, choking to get air into my lungs. "Fuck," I mutter, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. Letting my feet touch the floor and trying to bring myself back into this time and space. It's early. Too early. Even after all these weeks, the nightmares continue. Dr. Vera said that they might even get more intense if I ignore it. Sighing, I notice the framed picture I fell asleep with last night. It's peeking out from under the one pillow that remains on the bed and didn't get thrown to the floor during my night terror. Holding it reverently I look at my youthful face. So full of hope and promise. Full of laughter and light. That young girl knew she wasn't worthy of the happiness that was on loan to her; I just never expected it to be taken from me in such a brutal way.

I begin this morning like every other. Freshening up in the newly remodeled bathroom (I wonder if Emmett did this project for Dad?) I change into some running shorts and a t-shirt, hair up high in a messy pony tail. I'm looking forward to running on the old dirt hiking trails of Forks; running on the pavement of Tucson's sidewalks was always lacking something essential. I missed the feel of my feet on the earth instead of the lifeless concrete.

I began to run and do yoga regularly a few years back, one of the few things that hasn't been taken from me these past months. As an author, I needed a time and place to sort out my ideas. Feeling the burn of my muscles around the second mile, or the inner balance that comes in a tree pose, gave me that gift of space to process. Notice the past tense.

Now, however, running and yoga give me yet another way to shut down my brain and ignore the pain of my healing body. Funny how something that used to bring me deeper into my body and creativity now helps me shut down my emotions and creativity instead. I haven't been able to write for months. My editor Irena keeps calling me, "Look, I know you're going through some shit or whatever, Bella. But we have a contract! I have a boss too, and we all have money to make. What's it gonna take to get our prized writer back in the saddle?" Her version of a pep talk I suppose. My assistant and friend Angela has another approach, "Bella, honey, we love you, we love your stories, we're just trying to look out for your best interest. How can I help?"

Blocking out the echoing voices of my staff with another sigh, I quickly down an English muffin and some juice. Plugging in my head phones I turn the music up loud enough to drown out the sound of my heart beat. I make my way to the trail head behind the house and begin at a slow pace. The air is cooler than I'm used to but warm for Forks; it feels delightful lapping at my skin as I move faster.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Step, step, step, step. I jog to the pace of top 40's pop music. Do I love Britney Spears? No. Does her music make me feel sexy and vibrant? Well, it used to. It certainly helps me keep a rhythm. I can feel myself focusing on the rhythm of my feet, the swish of my arms. Shutting out all other sensations. My emotions can't touch me here. The memories and flashbacks can't haunt me here. My body moves itself on autopilot as my mind tunes the rest of the world out.

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. Step, step, step, step. I breathe shallow breaths, aching for deeper ones, and get lost in the trance of my feet hitting the trail. Strangely I begin to feel freer than I have in months, suddenly lighter and more fluid. I pump my legs harder and faster; feeling the salty sweat drip down my brow, my back, and pool in my bra. My legs are glistening with the sweat.

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. Step, step, step, step. My feet push off the ground with grace. My arms following the pace my legs have set. Breathe in, breath out, breathe in, breathe out. Step, step, step, step. Closing my eyes and smiling, feeling like I'm flying, it all too abruptly comes to a halt when my body slams into something hard and warm. "What the fuck!" I yell as I crash to the ground, limbs tangled together.

I look up to see the speed bump that got in my way. It starts with the well-muscled and tanned legs of a man. I lick my lips at the sight of his toned calves and strong thighs. As I continued my eyes upward I see that the legs are encased in a pair of black basketball shorts hanging oh! Hanging oh so low on the most delectable hips I've ever seen, with a muscled, twitching V briefly seen as my speed bump lifts the hem of his white tank to wipe the sweat from his face. Was that a tattoo on his hip? Sweet Jesus, bringing my gaze up higher I can barely make out the muscled abs and chest through the material of his shirt. There are a pair of muscular, inked arms that are connected to two broad shoulders. But then, oh, but then, I finally look into the eyes of the object of my desire. Edward Cullen. THE Edward Cullen. My speed bump is the grown-man version of my childhood crush. Always Alice's older brother, just like Emmett and Rose's brother Jasper, treating me like the visiting sister. He has matured, grown broader and stronger. But he still has the unruly reddish brown hair and the glowing emerald eyes. And those lips! Those kissable, lickable, bitable, fuckable, lips! Wait, those lips are moving. They are speaking. Why can't I hear anything? How hard did I hit my head?

Edward smirks briefly but looks concerned. He squats down next to my sprawled out body and gently tugs the ear buds from my ears. "Are you alright, Bella?"

"Umm..." Brilliant, Bella. You haven't spoken to the man, well, since he became a man, and this is your attempt at word-smithing? "Yeah, I think so, just startled. Sorry, I must've zoned out there."

"No problem." He's still squatting down next to me on the trail. His eyes flicker over my legs, but return to my face quickly. "I wasn't planning on, er, running into you here." He chuckles and scratches the back of his neck.

"Yeah, well, I guess you should never assume that someone won't plow into you in the middle of the woods." I try to joke, but shit, did I just say "plow into you." Fuck. Like this could get any more awkward. My sexually deprived and depraved brain must be filling in the blanks.

"Right. Umm… Can I help you up?" He stands and offers his hand. Ever the gentleman, my beautiful unrequited crush.

"No, no, I got it, thanks." I respond, mentally kicking myself for turning down the opportunity to touch this beautiful god of a man. As I start to rise off of the dirt trail, strategically thinking about where to put my hands so not to play the part of a dirt-covered child in front of this Adonis, an excruciating cramp in my right calf knocks me to the ground. "Holy shit!"

"Bella! What's wrong?" Edward drops to his knees next to me as I grab my leg.

"Just a cramp, I'm good." I try to play it off cool. Jesus, could I be more of a spaz? I'm still panting from my run, chest heaving, but now with Edward's nearness I'm panting for a whole new reason. My memory didn't do this Adonis any justice. He's more gorgeous than I remember.

Edward still carries that concerned fucking look on his beautiful face, but is also trying to stifle a smile at my stupidity. "No you're not, Bella. I can see it in your face. You never were a good liar." He shakes his head. "Here, give it to me." He holds out his hands as if waiting for me to fill them with something.

"What?" Again with the brilliance. Nice, spaz-ella. "I mean, no, I'm fine, really." Pant, pant.

"Riiiight. So do you suggest I leave you hear to cramp up in the woods by yourself? Or should I try to carry on a friendly conversation while you try not to scream out in agony?" He smirks, he knows he has me. Before I can protest he grabs my leg, pulling it out and away from my other leg and over his bent knees. I bite my lip from the erotic feeling of having my legs opened by Edward. Then the bliss begins. Edward Cullen begins massaging my Charlie-horsed calf.

"Hmm… Jesus." I murmur before I can reign that shit in. Edward's eyes snap from his hands on my leg to my eyes. I see a flicker of something and then it's gone. But I can't even interpret it right now because my brain is going to mush and begging to trickle out my damn vajayjay in small droplets of arousal. Fuck that feels good!

"Does this happen a lot?" He asks as his vision trails back down to his hands on my leg, massaging skillfully.

It takes me a half a second to realize he's not talking about my wonton moaning and arousal. "You mean knocking myself over by running into old friends? Literally. Or embarrassing myself by spazzing out after said-run-in?" I can't help but smile being near him again. The contact with my body doesn't even register as something to worry about. I'm just enjoying his kneading fingers and the warmth of his left hand that is stationed on my thigh, just above my knee, while his right hand plays my body like a Stradivarius violin.

He smiles that beautiful smile, letting out a chuckle, "Well, I suppose I meant the muscle cramp. Drinking more water can help with that." He shares helpfully.

"I haven't seen you in years and you want to talk about my muscle cramps and hydration levels?" I tease. I watch the tattoos on his forearms flex and move with the movements of his hands. I can't quite make out the whole thing, but there are licks of ink down towards the fleshy part of his hands near his thumbs that make me want to taste his hands. The ink flows up and licks around his biceps, making me want to bite those too. Or maybe grab onto them while I ride him. Holy God, woman. This is just about the most embarrassing moment of your life. Reign. It. In.

His smile widens, "It seemed like a timely topic," and he winks.

Jesus, he fucking winked. Edward Cullen's gorgeous hands are on my body and he fucking winked. I wonder if my arousal will soak through my shorts while my right leg is spread across his lap. With that thought I bring my left leg a little closer to my right, in an attempt to close my thighs and hide any evidence of my arousal. I can't even bring myself to be embarrassed right now. I'll die of mortification under a rock later. Right now I'm letting myself have this.

"Ok, we're almost there. The muscle is loosening up," he says knowingly. God, it's like he can read my body like a book. "I need you to take a few deep breaths, Bella. Bring some oxygen to the muscle."

"Oh." Shit, I haven't been able to take a deep breath in months. "Sure." I slowly begin to inhale and exhale.

"Bella, look at me."

"What?" I'm confused.

"I said 'deep breaths' not shallow half-ass breaths." He chuckles. "Look at me, we'll breathe together."

"O-ok", I say quietly. Unexpectedly, I find myself lost in the emerald pools of my youth. Locking eyes with the most beautiful boy I've ever met who is now the most beautiful man I've ever seen. Sensing his broad chest rising and falling. Watching the way his nostrils flare on the inhale and the way his soft lips part on the exhale. And I'm… I'm breathing! Really breathing for the first time in months. Feeling my lungs fill with the cool air and exhaling a swirl of warm air, mingling with Edward's sweet breath around my face.

"Uh… Good." He says suddenly and clears his throat. "I think that ought to do it!" He gives one last gentle squeeze to my leg that sends a shock of electricity straight to more core before placing my leg gently on the ground. He offers me his hand and a dazzling smile. This time I grab it without hesitation, allowing him to help pull me up as if it was no effort at all.

"I should…" I begin stupidly, pointing behind me in the direction of my house a few miles away.

"Yeah, yeah, me too." He responds, scratching the back of his neck again with one hand and thumbing in the opposite direction with is other. "But I'll see you later, right? At the picnic?" He looks almost hopeful. Weird.

"Oh! Yeah! You're going?" Oh God. Put me out of my misery. Why can't I say anything intelligent to this beautiful man? I'm a published author. I know I know how to put a simple sentence together. Don't I?

"Wouldn't miss it, Bella," he says with a dazzling smile.

I feel my center dripping and my legs wobble. Ungh, how I want to lick that smile off his face! Focus, Bella! First of all we need to get the hell out of here with a shred of dignity. More importantly, you're a broken wreck a woman who needs to work out her shit. Besides, never in the history of time has this man shown any interest in you other than as his little sister's friend.

"Great, well, I'll see you soon then." On wobbly legs, caused more by Adonis-the-speed-bump and his magical hands than from the cramp, I turn back in the direction of the house.

"Oh, and Bella?" He calls. I turn around and see his profile one more time. Toned legs, plump ass, strong back and torso, broad bronzed shoulders, and hair that looks like he just emerged from between my thighs.

"Yes?" I respond breathlessly, licking my lips.

"Welcome home."

Gah! So tasty! Next chapter is the big reunion picnic for Bella and her friends. Reviews are welcomed, invited, and encouraged!

Hugs,

FP