* Thank you for reading. I am truly grateful to everyone who has reviewed or subscribed.
* Thank you to Dunna for beta-ing. It's always better after she gets her hands on it.
* Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and its characters, I just really love them. No copyright infringement intended.
* This chapter ate me for breakfast, spit me out for lunch and ended up being considerably longer than the others. I affectionately call it "Fucking Chapter Four". (We can all thank Dunna that both the chapter and I made it out alive.)
Remember- Bella agreed to let Edward come to her house and make her dinner... but it's not a date.
4 It's a Date?
~Thursday morning I arrive at the coffee shop and find that Edward has my cup already marked and ready to make my coffee. He refuses let me pay for my coffee so I put my $5.50 in the tip cup right in front of Jessica.
"Why is it so hard for you to let me do things for you?" he asks, obviously bothered that I won't accept his free coffee.
"I am. If you recall, you're supposed to be dazzling my taste buds on Saturday."
"I do recall that, but honestly there is no way I can repay you for that massage yesterday. I slept like a baby last night. My body is completely rejuvenated thanks to you."
"I'm glad, but you don't owe me anything. I offered you a free massage because I wanted you to have it. I don't expect to be paid back for a gift."
"Fair is fair, Bella, dinner is also a gift. I want to cook for you." He hands me my coffee and gifts me a smiile.
"Thank you," I say and walk away. I look over my shoulder as I push the door open with my elbow. He is watching me juggle my coffee, car keys and the door. When we make eye contact, he smiles. That's all it takes to dazzle me, I drop my keys and spill warm coffee all over my hand. He laughs as I give him a sarcastic thumbs up and head out to face my day.
~Friday morning he's finishing someone's order when I arrive. He is shaking the whipped cream can with two hands but smiles and says, "Good morning, Bella," when I come in.
"Good morning, "I smile back. "You are very committed to that whip cream container, I see."
He switches to using only one, continuing to shake it and smirks at me, "Well, the more you shake it, the stronger the pressure, which makes it better."
"Is that so?" I raise my eyebrows and look away. I cannot believe we are having this conversation in public. He tops the coffee with very puffy whipped cream and hands it to a middle-aged man. He grabs my pre-marked cup and begins making my coffee.
"Practice makes perfect, and I told you the other day that I've been training pretty hard."
"I'm impressed Edward. It's going well, then?"
"I have nearly doubled my endurance time." I hear myself inhale audibly. Wow!
"Compared to Saturday, I think that should be noticeable improvement. Right? And if I remember correctly, sudden inhalations and involuntary noises are usually a good thing." He states without reservation.
"Usually. I guess since you get to cross train at work you're probably making better than average progress." He blushes as he puts the lid on my coffee.
He hands me my cup and says, "I appreciate all your support. Have a great day!"
~ Saturday morning the coffee shop is very crowded and the line is long. When Edward sees me, he points to my cup in his hand and signals with his head for me to get out of ordering line. I reluctantly do as he suggests because, of course, I'm running late.
I am standing with the group of people hovering by the pick up counter waiting for their name to be called. I overhear two girls, who don't look like they are old enough to be drinking coffee, talking about Edward.
The first girl is wearing a thin white tank top with no bra and hot pink shorts that probably fit her in the fourth grade, but she's wearing them today even though her ass hangs out. She says, " I know. He is super cute, but he's like really smart too. He was in my philosophy class last semester and he was all into discussing the injustices all over the world, especially to women."
The second girl is wearing tattered jean shorts, also too short, and a kitty cat t-shirt that says, "pretty pussy" across the chest. She acts surprised that Edward is anything more than a pretty face, "Wow. I should tell him about my brother getting a new car, and I just had to drive my dad's old jeep. Talk about injustice." I roll my eyes.
"Bella!" Edward calls out to alert me that my coffee is ready.
"Excuse me," I say to the Booty Bimbos, they move to the side to let me through, but then I can hear them grumbling as they come up behind me.
"What kind of service is this?" Pink Shorts asks, "We ordered before her. How is her coffee ready before ours?"
I'm horrified that I am the cause of a confrontation and I really don't want Edward to get in trouble for doing me a favor. Before I can even turn around to face them Edward says, "I'm sorry, Ma'am. I'm here to serve, and some things just take longer to make. During rushes we have to try and get drinks out as fast as possible. Bella is a regular customer who orders a standard drink. Her Skinny Caramel Macchiato takes much less time to make than your very involved Venti two and a half packet sugar substitute/six pumps of normal syrup shaken exactly 16 times green iced tea with no ice."
His annoyance is poorly disguised. "So if you will please step back, I will be sure to let you know when your drinks are ready. Thank you." Pussy Shirt starts to protest, but Edward shakes his head and waves his hand at her telling her move back. Then he lifts my coffee over the bar so I can take it.
" 'I'm here to serve?' What was that?" I half whisper as I take my coffee from him, our fingers brushing. I am so energized and I can't decide if it's because Edward defended me to the Booty Bimbos or just because I got to touch him again.
"I am here to serve you." He winks at me.
"Thank you very much, Edward. I'll see you later." Smiling, I turn and walk through the crowd toward the door. I see Pink and Pussy give me a disgusted look. I just hold my head high, knowing that this morning Edward chose this old broad over those two bimbos. After I walk past I hear one bimbo say to the other, "Do you think that's his sister?"
Bimbo number two answers, "More like his mom." Shit! I forcefully push the door open and walk outside, knowing I'm right back to square one.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
"For the last time, Alice, it's not a date." I'm not sure why I am wasting my breath on this conversation. She's never going to believe that it's not a date, I can barely convince myself of that fact.
Very snarkily she asks, "Well, what would you call it?"
"I call it dinner with a friend."
"Newsflash, Bella, guy friends that you have dinner with; that you've had sex with and they bought you breakfast the next morning are called 'dates'. It's textbook, look it up. " She opens her car door, turns to me and says, "And you better call me tomorrow. There is no way I can wait until Monday morning to find out how your non-date with Beautiful Baby Barista went." I roll my eyes at her lengthening nickname. She gets into her yellow sports car and waves goodbye.
I get into my truck, start heading home and instantly start worrying about my non-date. Was I supposed to do anything for tonight? What is he cooking? What am I supposed to wear for dinner at my own house? When was the last time I cleaned my oven? How did I get myself into this?
I take a quick shower when I get home, throw on my favorite pair of jeans and the silky top that I usually reserve for occasions Alice calls "semi casual". I turn on some calm music, light my three-wick candle on the counter and empty the dishwasher. At seven o'clock, on the dot, Edward rings my doorbell. He is balancing five grocery store bags and a bouquet of red roses.
"Hi, come on in, can I help you with anything?"
He smiles, "The flowers are for you, if you want to grab those."
"Thank you, Edward that was really sweet.-" his phone rings in his pocket so he quickly moves to the kitchen, drops the bags and answers it. He mouths an apology as he shrugs and presses a button on his phone. I get my only vase from the cupboard over the fridge and head to the sink to fill it with water.
"Hi mom. How are you?...Yeah, I called because I was trying to remember exactly how to make that salad. …..No, no the one with spinach and…yeah, that one. What kind of nuts …..Oh, good. That's what I thought it was, but I wasn't sure when I was at the store so I called to check…."
He sounds like he's close with his mom. I remember Renee telling me once to pay attention to how a guy treats his mom and waitresses because those are indicators as to how he'll treat a wife. I'm arranging the flowers trying to cover the fact that I am eavesdropping on his phone conversation.
"Is everything okay today?...Really?... She cannot catch a break, huh?...What are you guys doing tonight?...Dad agreed to that?..."Edward laughs "…..Well, mom, I just arrived at Bella's and I'm in charge of dinner, remember? So I'm going to let you go…" Wow, he talked to his mom about me. What did he say? They're like…friends? I'm intrigued.
"Yes, you know I'm committed to Sunday lunch, don't worry….okay, I love you." He hangs up his phone and turns to me, "Sorry about that, she can talk for hours and she never wants any phone conversation to end. Are you ready?" I set the vase on the small Bistro table in my kitchen and turn back to him.
"Sure, what are you making? What can I do to help?" He moves to the sink and begins aggressively scrubbing his hands, like a surgeon. He has lather up his forearm and between his long fingers and he's digging under his fingernails with fervor.
"I'm making cheese stuffed shells, salad and a chocolate melting cake." He grabs the kitchen towel hanging on the oven handle and slowly dries each finger individually. I'm mesmerized by his meticulous actions.
"Bella."
"Oh, sorry. Those must be the cleanest hands I've ever seen."
"Sanitation is important. Of course they're serious about that in the culinary program, but my dad is a doctor and my mom would never let me cook with her when I was little until I washed my hands properly." He's kind of teasing, but mostly serious and you can clearly see the love and admiration in his eyes as he talks about his mom.
I smile. "Dinner sounds yummy."
"Do you have a large pot so I can start the pasta?"
I dig out the largest pot I have and hand it to him. Unsure of what to do next, I start emptying bags and putting various food items on the counter. It looks like he's feeding about twenty people instead of just the two of us. I pull a large blue bottle of vodka out of a bag, turn to Edward with it and say, "Are you planning to get me drunk again, Edward?"
He looks at me sheepishly, "No, sorry. I was going to buy some wine, but I wasn't sure if you drank wine. I know you like vodka, so I went with that."
"It's a good strategy to bring girls what they like. However, Saturday night has ruined me on vodka for a while, especially this brand. I have some wine. Cab okay with you?" "He nods. I grab a new bottle and begin to open it.
"You know, I think it's okay to bring women wine even if you aren't sure they drink it, especially if you're cooking. You didn't know if I liked roses and you brought those."
"Oh, sorry. Bella, do you like roses?" There I go unintentionally criticizing him. I pour two glasses of wine, set one in front of him and sit on a bar stool with mine.
"Roses are classic, it's a very safe choice. My taste in flowers has changed a bit in the last few years. I used to just love daisies. I thought they were such a happy little flower, but now daisies remind me of my wedding, which isn't exactly a happy memory anymore. So…." Why did I go there?
"How long were you married? Can I ask?" He's mixing several kinds of cheese together in a bowl with some kind of green herbs, but stops to look at me, waiting for me to talk.
I take a lingering sip of my wine before I answer. "It's been two years that we've been divorced and we were separated for almost a year before that. But we were married for almost six years. Sometimes it feels like it was yesterday, and sometimes it feels like it was all just a dream. How about you, ever been married?"
"Just once, but she annulled it pretty quick because the sex was bad." He deadpans.
What? I nearly drop my wine and look at him trying to think of a response. He looks at me and starts laughing, "No, I'm just kidding. I've never been married. It's kind of embarrassing at how little I've even dated. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have joked about divorce. I was just trying to lighten the mood a little. You looked sad."
I have got to change the subject. "Hardly dated, huh? I find that hard to believe, Edward."
"It's true. I've had two serious girlfriends and a handful of first dates…and you."
Me? How does he classify me? Instead of bringing that up I say, "What happened with the girlfriends?"
"Where can I find a colander? This pasta is nearly ready."
"In the cabinet to the left of the sink. And, Edward….girlfriends?" I persist. He knows my story, and I'm intrigued about his dating history.
"Okay, okay." He drains the pasta, sprays a little water on it. He pours some sauce from a mason jar, I wonder if it's home made, into the empty pan and starts talking. "Tanya and I dated for a year about a year and a half ago. She was a beautiful take-charge Business major. She's very involved in the social aspects of school. She's in a sorority, she attends all the sports events, well any school event-she's there. Everything is a group affair. She literally never goes anywhere without a huge entourage of people. I like things a little smaller and more personal. I like to stay in, spend time with my family, cook. Ultimately, I got tired of group dating the entire university." He looks hurt and he's busied his hands with filling pasta shells with the cheese mixture.
"So, you still see her at school?"
"Yes, she was not happy when I broke up with her, but I was just a part of her perfect image package. I was her standing date for things. I've been replaced with a football player now. She never really knew me; we never knew each other."
"It's sounds like you're probably better off. Surfacey relationships are never very fulfilling. What about since Tanya?"
"Just some trial dates. I am kind of old fashioned so it takes a while before I feel comfortable asking a girl out. I'm just having trouble finding a girl that I find attractive that has anything of any substance to say. We go to dinner and they don't eat, then they just want to talk about other people in the restaurant instead of personal issues. It's like they want me to talk so they can agree with me, but they never say anything original. I am always wondering if they are being honest with me. My brother calls them beautiful shells because they are basically empty inside."
"Like the Booty Bimbos?"
"Sorry?"
"Oh, those girls in the skimpy shorts this morning that weren't happy you were serving me before them. I nicknamed them the Booty Bimbos." He smiles as he realizes who I'm talking about.
"They knew you, they were talking about you before the coffee confrontation." He puts the pasta in my oven, which thankfully doesn't billow with smoke when he opens the door.
"Salad bowl?" I point to the cabinet and wait for him to continue. "So what about you? Any guys since your divorce?"
"No. Alice and Rosalie keep pushing me, but I don't know. I work in a female dominated profession, even most of my clients are women. Then if a guy comes in, it's not really a get to know you environment. Clubs aren't really my thing. I'm pretty boring."
"I don't think you're boring. How did you end up at the club last Saturday? Salad?"
I nod, stand and get some plates out. "Saturday I decided to have a pity party. Rosalie would not let me sit at home and eat ice cream out of the carton. She forced me to go to the club with her. She said I would feel better"
We sit at the Bistro table and Edward serves me salad before scooping his own. I stab some leaves and put them in my mouth. It's a sweet delicious salad with crumbly cheese, cranberries and nuts of some sort.
"It didn't seem like a pity party to me. You appeared to be having a good time."
"I got an invitation for my ex-husband, Jacob's, wedding. I wasn't dealing with it very well, so I drank some vodka. Then I made a fool of myself; behaved completely inappropriately and used you to make myself feel better. I'm sorry, Edward. There's no excuse…."
He put his fork down and looks at me. "I don't feel used, so please don't apologize. I've honestly been trying to get up the nerve to ask you out for weeks. Jasper dragged me out Saturday night because he thinks I spend too much time alone. I was happy to see you there. It was like we sort of got the date I never asked you on." He stands, clears our salad plates and takes the pasta out. It's quiet while he pours us more wine, puts two servings on plates and returns to the table.
"I'm sorry to bring this back up, but why would your ex-husband invite you to his wedding?"
I take a bite of pasta. "This is amazing. " He just looks at me. I sigh, "It's complicated." He still just looks at me. Clearly he's not giving up on this.
"Um, we're friends. We were both heartbroken when we separated, but the damage was done. I had become one of those empty shells you were talking about and he fell in love with Leah. We couldn't recover." I hate talking about this.
"He cheated on you? What a-"
"No. No he didn't. I wouldn't blame him if he had, but he didn't." I pause to regain my composure. Edward looks confused, but interested.
"I played my part. I withdrew and became a scary shell of a person. We had tried to get pregnant for two years. I was obsessed with it by the end. Doctors can't even explain why we couldn't conceive, it just didn't happen. I was taking my temperature every morning, and I turned our sex life into a clinical science project." That was the worst. Fucking hindsight truly is 20/20. At the time, I didn't see what I was doing to my marriage or even to myself.
Edward is still silent, probably trying to figure out what to say. Instead of waiting for him to think of something I just continue my sad story. "Then I just sat and wallowed in misery every time we failed. He tried to console me, he really did, but I just pushed him away." I blink back the tears that are threatening to break through.
"Jacob was on patrol every day with Leah, and they became close friends. She was fun and energetic. Leah sympathized with him. She's actually a really great girl, and I'm happy for him. The problem is that aside from the fact that I'm not keeping ovulation charts and constantly reading books on conception, I'm still stuck where I was three years ago. He's moved on and here I am." I blink back my tears, drain my wine and look at Edward. He also has what looks like tears glistening in his eyes.
Edward breaks the silence. "My brother and I are adopted. My parents wanted children but they weren't successful on their own. They adopted us. Mom has talked of those dark years before we arrived. It was really hard on them. I'm really sorry you had to go through that, Bella."
I get up to pour myself some more wine. He moves up beside me, takes the bottle out of my hand and pulls me in for a hug. I defensively move my arms into fetal position. My hands are fisted between my body and his solid torso. He doesn't loosen his hold on me, determined to keep me in his grasp. I don't want to be comforted. I don't want to fall apart in his arms. I should be over this…but I'm not.
Finally, I give in. I sink into his warm body and tears begin to cascade down my cheeks. Edward gently rubs my back and kisses me softly on the top of my head, swaying gently back and forth in my kitchen. He smells divine, a manly musky citrus combination. It's very comforting. I don't know how long we stand like that before he lets me pull back.
I look up at him ashamed, wipe the tears with my hands and say," Wow. I'm sorry, Edward. If you'll excuse me for a minute." He just nods. I walk down the hall to the bathroom and do my best to put myself back together. I am a mess, my eyes are puffy and red. My cheeks are streaked with dried tears. I wash my face and brush my teeth for good measure.
When I return to the kitchen he's busy washing the last of the dishes, but he turns off the water when he sees me. "Better?"
"Yes, I'm really sorry for that display. Did you say something earlier about chocolate cake?" I walk into the kitchen and find that my glass is full of wine again.
"Chocolate melting cake is one of my specialties. Do you want to help?"
"Sure." Edward gives me simple tasks as we mix together the cake and pour it into the single serving pans he brought. We slip into easy conversation based entirely on safe topics like music, favorite movies and late night talk show hosts. We agree that Jimmy Fallon is the best, but we're still debating the Jay Leno/Conan O'Brian debacle when the cake is ready. I dip my spoon into the gooey center and chocolate flows like lava out of the divot I made. I bring it to my mouth and moan out loud as the rich sweetness fills my mouth.
"Involuntary moan, I guess you like it?" He's grinning from ear to ear.
"Oh, Edward it's amazing! I've never had anything like it."
"I'm glad you like it. I never made it for a date before. It's really good with coffee. Should I make us some?" He looks eager at the possibility of making coffee for me. I hate that I have to tell him I don't have any.
"Sorry, Edward. I don't keep any coffee at home. That's why I'm always at your shop. My coffee was never anything to write home about anyway and you guys really know what you're doing. "
"Oh," is all he says. He seems kind of disappointed about the coffee. Then it's quiet, too quiet.
"Edward, did you call this a date? I thought we were just friends exchanging services. I thought-"
"Call it what you want, Bella, but a rose by any other name… Why does it bother you if it's a date?"
"I think you're great. You have been really kind to me. You make me laugh. You can cook. You have really gone out of your way to impress me. And I'm impressed, Edward. Truly. But there's almost a nine year age difference, do you realize that?"
"Hmmm…No, I guess I didn't realize that you're, what? Thirty-two? But I also didn't realize that it should matter." He pauses looking puzzled, "Why does it matter?"
"It matters because I'm hauling around so much baggage that I could open a travel agency. It matters because you are still in college with your whole life ahead of you. It matters because you should be living it up, dating girls who are care-free and fun. It matters because the Booty Bimbos thought I might be your mom today. I'm too old and damaged for you, Edward. I'm sorry." My throat feels tight and I wish I could just disappear.
Edward looks like I've punched him in the stomach. Under his breath I hear him mumble, "Fucking bitches." He grimaces, takes a deep breath and looks straight into my eyes. "Do you enjoy my company, Bella?"
"What? Yes, of course I do. But-"
"Bella, do you find me attractive?"
"Edward," I pause, trying to figure out how to answer that question. He takes his index finger, places it under my chin and brings my eyes back to his.
"Bella, I am attracted to you. I look forward to seeing you every day. I have taken on every extra morning shift that I could steal from other people, just so I can make you a cup of coffee and see you smile." Wow! I can't believe that he's gone through all that effort for me.
"I am interested in all of you. I want to know the things that make you happy, the things that piss you off. I want to beat the shit out of someone that your dream of motherhood has been stolen from you. I hate that your husband made choices that have shattered you into a million pieces. I want to protect you from the world. I want to make you smile and laugh. I don't care if you're twenty-two or thirty-two or eighty-two. You are a beautiful woman with a beautiful heart. But, it has to go both ways…..Do you find me appealing all?"
I pause way too long trying to figure out how to answer him honestly, but not give him the wrong impression. I take a deep breath and answer truthfully. "The short answer is yes. Yes, I find you attractive and appealing. You have dazzled me in all possible ways, but-"
"But nothing, Bella," He interrupts me firmly and makes me lose my train of thought. "Here's the deal. We find each other attractive, and we enjoy spending time together, right?"
"Right, but-"
"No buts. I know you don't want to date me because I'm younger than you, and I clearly don't know what the fuck I'm doing with women. But I want to spend as much time as possible with you. How about we compromise?"
I'm so confused I can't even follow what he's saying. Exasperated, I ask, "Compromise? What are you talking about, Edward?"
His eyes bore into mine. "Bella, will you train me to be a man that would be worthy to date a woman like you? Will you be my dating coach?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. How would I do that?" I am not sure how I keep giving him mixed messages. I think I'm telling him one thing, but he always turns it around.
Edward looks hopeful. "I am talking about a professional relationship where you would tutor me. For example, I tried my best tonight to create a memorable first date. What should I have done differently? You give me pointers and in exchange I'll make you dinner. Please? You know I need the help." He's teasing, but there's a hopeful tone to his voice.
I smile despite myself. Fuck, what am I doing? I sigh and relent once again. "Tonight was good. I had the home court advantage. The food was great and you even cleaned up. I would recommend that next time you bring wine, which was your instinct anyway. Find some flowers that remind you of the girl, something unique and interesting. That would be more memorable and meaningful than roses. Okay? You don't really need a coach, you just need more experience. You're not going to get that experience by making me dinner while we're un-dating."
"Yeah, but how many girls will I have to damage to gain that experience while you are sitting in front of me with all the information I need. And, for the record, I wouldn't have invited myself to your house to cook dinner if you would have agreed to go out with me in the first place."
"I don't think you're damaging girls. I think they're all surviving just fine. What if I had agreed to go out with you? What would you have done differently?"
He's trying to contain his victory smile and he looks relieved by my question. "Um, I guess I would have taken you to my favorite restaurant where I know the food is good. We could have gotten to know each other a little. Then, a movie."
"Movies are a weird thing. You think you're spending time with someone, but really you're just at the same place at the same time experiencing the same story. Sometimes you can have a great conversation about it afterwards, but you've just spent two hours not interacting with the person you're supposed to be getting to know. That restaurant sounds like a good choice."
"How about dancing?"
"I like dancing, I'm sure you remember." His cocky smile is confirmation enough that he does. "Dancing is similar to movies but you can at least see the person you're with, read their body language and see their expressions." He's still wearing that knowing look, I wish, for the hundredth time this week, I could remember what I did last Saturday.
"But, in general, I think it's best if you have two ideas in mind and you ask the woman to choose between them. Then she gets a say in what you do, but you're ultimately leading. Women feel safe and valued when men take care of them."
"So something like, would you like to dance with me right here in the living room or take a walk outside?" His eyes are intense and seductive.
"See, that was good," I encourage.
"Bella, which one do you pick?"
"Wh-What? Are you serious?"
"Yes, practical experience is the best teacher, Bella. Humor me." Now his eyes are pleading and vulnerable.
"Okay, dancing. There's a dance music playlist or you pick a song." He walks over to my ipod dock and fiddles with it until my familiar playlist begins. He turns the volume up before he turns around smiling and starts dance-strutting over to me, takes my hands in his and pulls me to standing before he leads me to the middle of the living room. I dance alone to this song all the time, right here in my living room, but at this moment I just feel ridiculous.
"What are you doing Bella, you're not dancing."
"I need you to lead. Take control." He takes one of my hands in his and puts his other hand on my hip. For a minute I'm worried that he's trying to lead me in the waltz or something. He doesn't, instead he starts moving his hips back and forth but he changes the pattern so I can never just get in the groove with him.
"Edward, move your body in a predictable pattern so I can match you." He looks confused so I put both of my hands on his hips and move our bodies simultaneously to the same rhythm. He smiles widely and then he takes the lead again, holding my left hand in his right, using my rhythm, but bringing our bodies much closer. I feel my pulse quicken. He moves his right hand to the small of my back and rubs gentle circles. I look up to his face, and I see his eyes concentrating on my mine. He's so intense, and my stomach flutters as he licks his beautiful lips.
"How's this?" he asks softly.
"This is much better. You lead, I follow." He pulls me even closer then, I can hear his breathing, feel his heart racing and I can feel the bulge pressing against his button fly into my stomach. My heart flutters because I know I had that affect on him. My body is humming with anticipation in all the places he is touching me- my hand, my elbow, my lower back, my tummy.
He is everywhere, completely surrounding me and I am drowning in a beautiful Edward sea. Do not send the coast guard. I snake my right hand up behind his neck and tangle my fingers in his silky hair, drawing his head closer to my ear. We are about as close as we can be, and I want him closer still.
"Bella," he breaks me out of my reverie, "What about kissing on the first date? Is that allowed?" We are still dancing, but I've had to loosen my grip on his hair. My mind is in a daze, and I'm trying to figure out how to answer his question. Trying to remember how to speak.
"Yes, but you never want to push it too far, leave her wanting just a little. I guess you should read her body language."
"Like your massage clues?"
"Yes, exactly." I am so thankful to not have to talk anymore. I just want to feel him.
"Okay," he says and then he lowers his head again. He rubs my left hand gently, which is making my pulse pound in my ears. I secretly pray that he can't hear it too. We dance for two more songs like that. I keep gently massaging and tugging on his hair. Willing myself to keep my hands above his waist. Every once in a while my hips push into his, and I melt when I discover that he is still hard as a rock, but he is being much more polite than I am, even though he's obviously aroused. I have to remind myself to breathe so I don't pass out in my own living room.
"You are a very good student, Edward," I say to distract myself from ripping open the button fly that's been mercilessly teasing me.
He gently kisses my cheek before he opens his eyes. His eyes are smoldering and my heart is threatening to pound out of my chest. "You are a very good teacher. Please teach me. Please….," he is pleading with me breathlessly.
"Yes," I moan, relenting. "We can compro-." His lips are on mine before I can finish, fervently moving against mine, pressing firmly. He has taken control. This is what I remember. He knows how to kiss like a god. Fuck, his lips are soft but persuasive. He has one hand in my hair, pulling me into his kiss. I feel his mouth parting and his tongue is begging my lips for entrance. I greedily invite him in. Our tongues begin dancing passionately, mirroring what our bodies have been sharing. Suddenly, he begins to withdraw, leaving smaller, gentler kisses until his eyes are blazing into mine again. I exhale in frustration. What just happened?
"I did read your clues right, didn't I?"
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, you certainly did." I lean my forehead into his chest again, and we both fight to regain control of our breathing.
When I look back up, he kisses me gently on the lips, then says, "Well, I think I should go now. Will I see you in the morning?"
Confused and more than a little frustrated I say, "Yes, I'll be there."
"I'll plan to take my break when you come in, okay? So we can talk." I nod, trying to process why I feel so empty all of a sudden. He pulls away from me, gathers a few things from the kitchen and walks to the door.
I join him there. He wraps his hands around my waist. I reach up, clasp my hands behind his neck and pull him down to my lips. I don't want him to leave. I want him to stay here so I can feel his lips, his arms, his body. But he pulls away, kisses me softly on the nose and leaves. I lock the door behind him frustrated that he's gone, that I am alone. I want more of him. Then it dawns on me. This is exactly what I told him to do-leave a girl wanting. Well, fuck me.
* This was a long one. I tried to split it into two, but couldn't find a logical breaking point.
* Thank you for reading. Review if you'd like. I would certainly enjoy hearing from you.
