Thank you from the bottom of my heart to dellaterra for her beta skills! You are the very best!

Any remaining typo or grammar errors are mine alone.

Chapter title belongs to Noel Coward ("Pacific 1860")

Twilight doesn't. Not to me, either.

Thank you to everyone who's been reading and reviewing, putting me on alert or adding YWT to their favourites. It means the world to me.

Chapter 7: I Saw No Shadow

Cedric wakes me in the morning. If he could, he'd jump up and down to get my attention. With pom poms. As it is, he meows and licks my hair and puts his paws in my face until I can't stand it any longer and get up, filling his little bowl with nasty-smelling cat food. While he munches away, I start making coffee. I think of Edward, who already has been working for four hours.

Last night was incredible. I don't think I've ever felt like this with a man. It's so natural with him. Like it's meant to be. As if I'd been waiting all my life for him. Standing in my kitchen and sipping my coffee, I try to sort my thoughts.

I didn't feel this way with Jake. With him, everything was comfy and easy, yes, but there never was this sparkle. Jake was family, and everything seemed to be set in stone already. But he never was interested in me, the real me.

Edward listens. Edward looks at me. He makes me feel precious and revered.

Thinking such thoughts, I go about my day, doing laundry, shopping for groceries, learning my lines. I call Seth. He invites me to have dinner at his place; apparently Collin is out of town. Somewhere in between I receive a message from Edward.

Hey, lovely girl, how are you? Thinking of you. All the time.

My heart does a double flip, and I reply.

I'm fine, how's work? Thinking of you too. Looking forward to Friday.

I'll call you tonight, okay?

Can't wait to hear your voice, doctorward.

xoxo

Six long hours later, when I'm almost on my way to Seth's place, the phone rings and it's Edward. The sound of his voice making my heartbeat quicken.

"Hey," I say. "How are you?"

"Exhausted, really. I just got home."

I sit on my queen-sized bed, leaning back against the headboard. Cedric joins me, purring like a small lawn mower as he snuggles up to my calf.

"So you did have that twelve-hour day you predicted?"

"Yep. I'm so fucking glad I have most weekends off. One of the upsides of being a surgeon is that operations are scheduled on weekdays."

"What about emergencies?"

"There are times I'm on call, of course, but we take turns." He stifles a yawn. "Sorry. So, what did you do with your day, sweet actress?"

"Nothing much," I admit. "Household stuff, which I hate. Learnt some lines for tomorrow."

"Mmm, I can't wait to see you on stage." His voice is like velvet, utterly seductive.

"It's not a big part, you know that," I remind him. I don't want him to expect too much.

"I know the play, Miss Swan, and it may not be a leading role, but it is an important one."

I realize that I have a huge grin on my face.

"Maybe you should have majored in literature," I tease him.

"Believe me, I'm better at what I'm doing right now," he chuckles.

"What are you doing with the rest of your night?"

"Cooking, eating, and maybe reading a little. Sleeping."

"Have to get up at four-thirty again?"

"Yes." I can hear him stifle another yawn. "And you?"

"Actually, I was just heading out to meet a friend. My best friend, actually - Seth. I think I told you about him. "

"Yeah, you did. He sounds fun from what you were saying."

"He's a great guy. You should meet him."

Oops. Was that too much, too soon?

"I'd love to."

His voice is firm, warm, and serious, and another smile spreads across my face. I tickle Cedric's ear and try to think of a flirty reply, when, out of nowhere, I am hit by the beginnings of a small panic attack.

My chest constricts, and the whole room seems to be closing in on me. I am afraid. I am so afraid. I feel like a caged animal. What cages me is not the bars of a zoo or a circus, but my own homemade fear. I'm dizzy, my chest is flushing and my breathing gets laboured. Cedric is draped over my feet, sleeping peacefully. My room looks as it always does. Slightly messy, but mine.

I want to scream, to do anything so I can escape. But I know there's no escape. I can't escape from myself.

"Bella? Are you still there?"

"Yes," I choke out, trying to get a hold on myself. "Listen, Edward, I just really need to go. I'll call you, okay?"

I don't even wait for him to reply before ending the call. Staring down at Cedric's s small breathing form, I try to get a hold on myself. My heart is pounding wildly in my chest. I try to take deep, steady breaths, and when that doesn't work, I do what I always do, and grab the phone once more.

"Seth," I say in a stifled voice. "Can you come over?"

EDWARD

What the fuck was that? One minute, we're talking and all flirty, and the next, she basically hangs up on me. I don't get it.

Bella always seems so open and honest. That's what I lo… like about her. Among other things. She doesn't wear her heart on her sleeve, mind you, but she's sincere.

Now, I can't help but feel that she's hiding something. I think about calling her again, but what if she's with somebody else?

Considering that we've only kissed a couple of times, and considering that I completely fucked up after the first time, we obviously haven't even begun to talk about anything like exclusiveness.

My heart constricts at the mere thought that Bella might be seeing anyone else. But she might be.

On the other hand, didn't she just say she was joining her buddy for dinner? She wouldn't lie to me, would she?

Fuck.

My phone rings again, and for a second, I hope that it's her. Nope.

"Hi, Ali."

"Edward!" Her bubbly, happy voice soothes me a little. "Brother, where art thou? Haven't heard from you in ages! Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just a stressful day at the hospital."

Which, at the moment, is the last thing on my mind. And, of curse, Alice senses that. She's like a drug-sniffing dog, that little one.

"How are things with Bella?"

I sigh.

"Edward?"

"I don't know. Until ten minutes ago, I thought things were going great, but now I'm not so sure." I proceed to tell her about last night, the messages, and the phone call. When I'm finished, there's a long pause, which, for Alice, is highly unusual.

"Ali?"

"What?" she snaps.

"Are you going to say anything? Offer me some advice?"

"I'm thinking, Edward," she says, shutting me up. "Did you say anything that might have hurt her?"

"No, it was a normal, pleasant conversation."

"So what if she just really needed to leave?"

"Yeah, but she was so… strange in the end." I shake my head slowly. "Do you… Um, do you think she might be seeing somebody else?"

"No," Alice replies instantly. "She's never mentioned anyone, and she certainly doesn't strike as being that type of girl." Alice pauses again. "Why don't you just call and ask her, Edward? I'm sure it's just a silly misunderstanding."

"She said she's meeting a friend." I sit down on the piano bench, feeling despondent. Haven't been sitting here in ages.

"Then send her a message or something. God, Edward, You're not that dense."

"Okay, I will."

"Good. Anyway, I wanted to ask if you'd like to come over for dinner one of these days."

"Sure."

"Maybe you could bring Bella." There's an excited chirp in her voice.

"It's not like we're an item, Ali."

"An item? Who are you, Perez Hilton? When will you be seeing her again?"

"On Friday." My heart does a little flip at the thought of that.

"Ask her. Please! For me?"

"I'll think about it, okay?"

I can hear Jasper in the background.

"I'm coming, honey," she calls. "Listen, I need to go. Send her a message and call me when you hear from her, okay?"

Before we end the call, I assure Alice that I'll keep her informed. I stare down on the black lid in front of me, and suddenly, I have the urge to play a little, an urge I haven't felt for months.

I open it, ghosting my fingers over the cool keys, and before I even realize what I am doing, I'm midway through a Chopin prelude. The music, and the process of creating it, elates me. I wasn't aware of how much I had missed it, soft tunes flowing through the apartment, soothing me. When I finally close the lid and get up, an hour has passed, and I make a mental note to call the piano tuner to have it looked over.

Feeling less muddled, I send Bella a message, simply wishing her a pleasant evening, saying that I hoped to talk to her tomorrow.

After that, I cook some pasta, watch mindless shit on TV and go to bed. Bella never answers.

Throughout the following day, I keep checking my cell for texts, but the only incoming message is from my brother-in-law, Emmett, asking me if I want to join him for a Mets game next week. He works as a lawyer for them and gets free tickets.

Nothing from Bella.

The day seems endless and work is pretty boring, with loads of paperwork waiting on my desk. I'm about to call it a day when Lauren approaches me. Since that one night last December, I've been trying to avoid any very private conversations with her, not wanting to give her the impression that more could develop between us.

God, I was so drunk that night. Tanya and I had been separated for about three months and I felt like shit about the whole situation. A couple of days before the hospital's Christmas party at the Waldorf Astoria, she'd shown up at my apartment, high as a kite. At the party, I was feeling emotionally needy, hopeless and depressed, and I drank far too much, leaving myself wide open to Lauren's advances. The evening ended with us fucking in an overpriced hotel bedroom. I don't know if she planned this, or if she always carries a condom in her purse… anyway, I left in the early morning hours, feeling sick and empty. I called her the next day to make sure she wasn't misconstruing the whole encounter. She seemed a bit disappointed, but was friendly and calm. Since then, I've kept our relationship on a strictly professional level, and we've always been respectful towards each other.

Now she's batting her eyelashes at me, giving me a pink-lipped smile.

"Hello there. How are you, Edward?"

"Fine, thanks, Lauren. You?"

I really, really don't have the energy to make small talk with her right now.

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah," I reply warily.

"Care to go to Tony's for a drink?"

"Actually, I'm fucking tired, Lauren."

"Oh, come on, Eddie."

Aargh. I hate to be called Eddie. Or Ed. Or Teddy. Or Ted.

She puts a hand on my chest, and I'm desperately trying to think of an excuse to get away when my phone rings.

Perfect!

And it's Bella.

I make a gesture, indicating to Lauren that I need to answer the call, and mouth a quick good-bye before heading towards the exit.

"Bella!"

"Hi, Edward," she says in a soft, shy voice. It's so good to hear her.

"Hey! How are you? You know, I was a bit worried about you last night. You were gone so abruptly," I babble as I cross the parking lot. There's a slight drizzle, but I couldn't care less, leaning against my car and lighting a cigarette.

"I know, and I'm sorry." There is a small silence. "I just felt a little sick, you know."

For some reason I get the feeling that there's more to it, but I let it pass.

"Are you better now?"

"Yes, thank you. Um, are we still on for tomorrow?

"Of course! If you'll still have me."

"Absolutely," she whispers.

I stand there in the light rain, taking deep drags from my cigarette, grinning like an idiot.

"Would you like to come over to my place? I could cook something."

"Oh, Edward." She sounds more assured now, and a bit flirty. "You can cook?"

"So they say." The smile never leaves my face. "Any special preferences? Food allergies?"

"No. I'm not very picky. Just make spaghetti with meatballs, and I'll be fine."

There's a warm glow in my stomach.

"See you at eight?" I ask.

"Okay."

"Great."

"I'm looking forward to that." Her voice is just sweet and genuine.

We say good-bye, and by the time I'm home, my cheeks hurt from grinning like a moron the whole drive.

BELLA

He didn't seem mad that I choked him off so rudely last night. I don't know if he bought my excuse about feeling sick, but if he didn't, he didn't let it show. Anyway, he still wants to see me! And at his place! The rest of the night I run around like a chicken with its head chopped off, scaring Cedric in the process. I call Seth to tell him the good news, and he's happy for me, but still a bit concerned.

Seth. How I love him. He's always been there for me, has seen my darkest demons and always stood by me. Last night, he came over immediately after I'd cut off Edward, holding me while I cried and cried, until the panic subsided.

"Are you taking you medication regularly?" Seth asked, sitting on my bed with me, stroking my back.

"Of course I am!" I hiccupped. "I've been religious about it since that one time!"

"I was just wondering. You've had them more since the move. Maybe…" he hesitated. "Maybe you should start seeing someone again?"

"I don't want to," I sniffled. "It's just a phase. Adjusting and stuff. I'm sure it'll pass."

"Okay," he sighed. "But promise you'll consider it if starts happening more frequently again, will you?"

I nodded shakily.

"I know you want to be strong and work it out on your own, Bells. But sometimes it's important to accept help."

"Yeah, but," – and here I started crying again – "I don't want to be one of those people. Now even less than ever…"

"What do you mean?" He inclined his head to one side.

"Well, you know, Edward…" I blew my nose.

"Edward?" he prompted gently.

"I… I told you what he said about his wife…"

"Yes?"

"And… and…" It was hard to speak because I was sobbing so hard. "And I'm sure the last thing he wants in his life is another psycho girl..."

And now I'm on the subway with the most expensive bottle of Napa Valley Shiraz I've ever bought. The most expensive bottle of wine I've ever bought, period. I'm nervous, and my hands all sweaty as I check my image in the train's grubby windowpane. I left my hair down wearing almost no makeup. A black, tight-fitting sweater and jeans. Dark blue ballerinas, and a grey woollen coat.

Matching black lace bra and panties.

You never know.

I have no idea what to expect from tonight, no idea what Edward might be expecting. I know for certain that I don't want an affair. But am I ready for a relationship? And, hell, is he, what with waiting for his divorce to come through and everything? Is that even what he might want?

What I do know is that I'm incredibly attracted to him, and that my stomach jitters and my heart squirms each time I think of him. And there are feelings beyond the physical pull as well.

Another thing I know is that I couldn't bear to be hurt like I was when everything happened with Jake. That would kill me.

I step out of the subway at Lexington and 63rd Street. Well, well. This certainly is a nice neighbourhood. Everything's neat and clean. The walk isn't far, and though it's chilly, there's a slight hint of spring in the air. And here I am.

A black wrought-iron gate protects half a dozen stone steps that lead up to heavy wooden doors. It's the kind of building that screams money, all understated and elegant and classy.

Please don't let there be a doorman.

There's a doorman.

"Good evening ma'am."

I smile a freaked-out smile and run for the elevator.

He did say the seventh floor, didn't he? I look at my reflection in the gold-framed mirror in the elevator. My cheeks are flushed. I feel like a little girl before her first recital of Little Bo Peep. 5 B. Large gold letters.

I take a deep breath and press the buzzer.

The very second the door opens and I see Edward, I'm at ease. He has a huge smile on his face and his large green eyes filled with joy.

"Bella," he says softly, the smile deepening as he takes in my appearance. "So good to see you." He grabs my hand and gently pulls me across the threshold, greeting me with a small kiss to my cheek. There's that tingle again.

Boy oh boy, does he smell good.

"Hi," I say, a bit unsure of my voice since I'm completely under his spell. He's so much more beautiful than I remember him. He's wearing a grey t-shirt and jeans. His feet are bare.

"Would you like to take your clothes off? I… I mean, your coat." He hits his forehead with the palm of his hand.

He's nervous. It's too cute.

He takes my coat and puts it on a hanger. Taking in my surroundings, I'm more than just a little impressed. The place is gorgeous. We're in a big hall with high ceilings, furnished with elegant yet simple antiques from around the turn of the century. There are pretty lamps and marble floors and a large double-door leading to the living room, and another hallway to my right. A staircase is to the left.

"Wow," I say. "This is… impressive."

"Um, well, thanks." He shrugs. "Alice helped me decorate it. As did my mom." He smiles. "Would you like to join me in the kitchen for a second? I just need to put the lasagna in the oven, and then I can give you a guided tour, if you like."

"I'd love that." I remember the bottle I'm still holding. "Oh, I brought some wine."

He takes it with a lovely smile.

"You shouldn't have. But still, thanks."

He leads the way into a large, modern kitchen with shiny cherry wood surfaces and an island in the middle. There's a long rack with herbs and all kinds of expensive-looking devices for mixing and shredding and… cooking, I guess.

Beneath the broad window there's a breakfast table with four chairs. The wall next to it bears a giant framed poster of 2001: A Space Odyssey. It's even bigger than my Wuthering Heights one. While I'm looking around, Edward puts a pan in the oven and sets the timer.

"What do you say? Should I open that bottle you brought? Actually, I'm rather curious about it." Holding up the bottle of wine, he smiles that breathtaking crooked smile.

"Only if you want to… But I told you, I'm no expert."

"Neither am I," he says. I'm sure he's understating.

He uncorks it swiftly, smelling the cork before he pours us two glasses. I'm hoping I did not misspend those thirty bucks just to impress him.

Edward takes a slow sip and smiles. For a millisecond I was afraid he might do that gurgling and slurping thing that wine experts are supposed to do.

"It's exquisite," he says. "A very good choice. Thank you again."

I try a bit as well. Mmm. Yummy.

Edward steps a little closer. I can't interpret the look in his eyes.

"And, by the way, you look exquisite as well." He grins sheepishly. "Fuck, that sounded so sappy, didn't it? I'm sorry. You look beautiful, Bella."

"Thank you." I bite my lip, blushing like a teenager. This is one of those moments when I know precisely why I chose to become an actress: to be anyone but myself. My boring, drab, mousy self.

Edward reaches out and passes a thumb over my cheek.

"So beautiful," he murmurs softly, and then, in a sudden change of stance, he says, "So. Guided tour. Yay or nay?"

"Yay."

His apartment is extraordinary. Modern and old-fashioned at once, it's a combination of antiques and contemporary furniture. Endless rows of books, and the most extensive collection of records and CDs I have ever seen. A very high-end-looking sound system. A baby grand piano and a large terrace from where I can see Central Park. Family pictures line the wall leading upstairs. I sneak a look as we take the stairs, recognizing Alice in a few of them. I see another beautiful woman too, who must be Edward's mother, her eyes the same bright green as his. Once I've seen the whole apartment, I'm in awe. This is a completely different league, and I feel a bit intimidated. For a second, I long to be at Chipmunk with Seth, downing shots of vodka and stuffing our faces with greasy take-out pizza in the middle of the night.

But when we're back in the kitchen, drinking more wine, Edward's voice calms me as we chat easily, and I watch him prepare a salad.

"Can I help you with that?" I offer, watching him prepare a salad and savouring the taste of the wine on my tongue. It' deliciously heavy, with a hint of berries.

Yes, I have become an expert this quickly.

"Sure," he says. "You might slice these." Seconds later, he has provided me with a board, a knife, and several tomatoes, and I start hacking away, not knowing what I'm doing at all.

We talk about this and that while I murder the poor vegetables – yes, I know that technically a tomato is a fruit, but I don't care - and it takes a moment until Edward catches sight of the crime scene. His eyes are on my hands and on the thick, uneven, mushy pieces I created.

"Bella?"

"Mmm-hmm?"

He steps closer to me. So close I can feel the warmth of his body and smell his scent. All honey and musk and Edward.

"You don't cook, do you, Bella?" He's trying to fight a smile.

I shrug helplessly and hang my head, blushing.

"Not at all," I admit.

"This poor, unsuspecting tomato," he holds up what's left of one, "never did you any harm, did it?"

I shake my head.

"Then why punish it?" He gets closer still, so his chest is lined up against my back.

"The only thing I can make in the kitchen is a mess," I whisper, and a sweet smile spreads on his face before he reaches around me, putting another tomato in my left hand and the knife in my right one, then placing his hands over mine. The tingle I always feel when he touches me returns as he shows me how to do the task properly. He guides me with large, firm hands - a surgeon's hands, a pianist's hands, and I am enveloped by his warmth and strength. I'm trying my hardest not to start hyperventilating from sheer excitement.

When we're finished, there's a neat pile of sliced tomatoes in front of us and I drop the knife. Edward doesn't let go of my hands, though, and his breath is warm on my neck as he speaks.

"Like this. Did you feel that?"

"Yes." I swallow. "Yes, I felt that."

He puts a tiny kiss on the side of my neck, and I close my eyes.

"So did I," he murmurs against my skin, the pressure of his hands on mine intensifying.

And then, the ding of the timer kicks us out of our bubble.

Edward makes a low, almost growling sound before he lets go of my hands. Immediately, I miss his touch.

We eat in his beautiful dining room, candles illuminating the table while soft jazz accompanies the meal. The lasagna is fantastic. As always, we're able to talk about literally everything from the most mundane details of everyday life to politics and film history, and as always, I realize that we share many of our views and opinions, while discussing others with zest and humour. Above all, this man makes me laugh like no one else can, and I'm literally holding my stomach a few times. When we're finished, I help Edward clear the table and we settle on the large L-shaped sofa in the living room, and Edward lights the fireplace. He then darts back to the kitchen, returning with two plates holding our dessert.

"I made it this afternoon," he says, "and I'm not sure it came out the way I meant it to. But you said you were into chocolate, so – " He sits down next to me. "I made a chocolate mousse." He hands me a plate.

"Wow. It looks delicious." I try a spoonful and almost groan aloud at the heavenly, rich perfection of chocolate, creamy and bittersweet.

"Edward…"

"Hmm?" Sexy raised eyebrow.

"This is incredible."

"You like it?" Sweet lopsided smile.

"I love it. It's so good."

He tries a bit himself, nodding slightly.

"Yeah, not half bad."

I practically inhale my food-gasm, then sigh happily and lean back against the couch.

"Where did you learn to cook like that?"

"I don't know. I loved hanging around the kitchen with my mom, I guess. Once I was old enough, she'd assign me little tasks, and it was fun. But the real food-kick I got the year before I went to college, when I went to Europe. I stayed with my relatives in London and then went to Italy. It spoiled me for life."

"How long did you stay there?"

"Three months. It was absolutely fabulous."

"So do you speak Italian?"

My head is swimming a little from the wine. And from Edward, who is sitting close to me, one leg tucked underneath him, looking so beautiful it's downright unfair.

"Yeah, but not too well."

"I don't believe you." I stare into those deep green eyes, and all I want to do is kiss him. Actually, I want to do a lot more with him, but I guess kissing would be a fine start.

"How do you say 'Thank you for a fantastic dinner'?"

His expression is priceless as he mulls over it in his head, rumpling his hair.

"Um… Grazie per la bella cena."

Wow. Never thought hearing a man speak Italian could be such a turn-on.

"And 'I'm having a lovely time right now'?"

He thinks again, looking so damn delectable as he scratches the back of his neck.

"Mi godo un buon momento."

His voice is low and husky, and his beautiful words from those beautiful lips do something to me that makes me bold.

"What about 'Could you please kiss me already?'"

For a second, I am frightened by my own courage. But then I see the expression on his face, and it's pure desire. His eyes aglow with passion, as he gets closer and whispers, "Si prega di mi bacci alla fine…"

His lips touch mine, warm and sweet and gentle, and I'm floating again, tasting him, smelling him, as his mouth moves with mine, his arms finally closing around me. My heart is hammering inside my chest. My brain, though, is silent for once and… calm.

My body is anything but as I sling my arms around his neck, weaving through the silky strands of his hair, losing myself in the sensation of his mouth on mine, and in the excitement of getting to know each other much, much better.

"Bella…" His hot breath tickles my lips as we look at each other, his eyes dark and longing and reverent. "You're so beautiful, do you know that? So fucking beautiful…"

Our lips meet again, his tongue tracing my lower lip, and once I tentatively open my mouth, it touches mine, soon moving more confidently and with an eagerness that makes me all tingly. Edward pulls me even closer to him, moving me to the back of the couch so he's lying half on top of me, his right leg between mine.

The room is silent except for the crackle of the fire and the little sounds we make. My hands roam his back, noting how muscular he is, and I want to grab his butt and press him into me, but I don't do it. Yet. It feels so good to have him over me, his large body covering mine, my fingers travelling upwards to meet his hair again, lightly stroking his scalp.

I'll never get enough of him, of his sweet taste as our tongues explore and caress each other. Our breathing is strained as we pull apart for oxygen, Edward's cheeks slightly rosy and his lips all pouty and red.

"Mia bellisma," he whispers against my lips in a thick voice, sounding full of wonder.

I'm dizzy, blood racing in my ears. I hope I don't wake up and find all of this to be dream.

Edward kisses a trail from my mouth to my neck, stopping there, sucking softly. I moan a little when the tip of his tongue darts out and licks over the spot where he may or may not have left a tiny mark. His lips travel to my ear, kissing the tender spot just underneath it, making me shudder with pleasure. I lightly arch my back, willing him to touch me. As if he could read my thoughts, his fingertips start running up and down my side, leaving goose bumps in their wake.

I bury my face in his hair. It's so soft and he smells so good that I think I'm going to explode any minute from the desire that is building ever more rapidly. He sucks and kisses and nibbles on and on, and I can feel the thumping of his heart beneath my palm, matching my own. Our bodies are hot and completely in tune.

"This feels so good," he rasps into my ear.

"Yes," I reply. "So good…"

Edward's hand is going upwards from my waist, grazing the outer swell of my breast, and a small sigh of joy escapes me.

He sucks my earlobe between his lips before his tongue caresses me, the sensation shooting straight to my sex. I can feel his erection too, rather prominently at that, poking my thigh.

"I need…" He sighs. "I want…" His voice is hot in my ear as he whispers.

"What? What, Edward?" I loosely wind my leg around his waist, feeling him even more this way, and it's… promising, to say the least.

"I have to touch you," he breathes.

He's sweet and gentlemanly, and I admire that, but I also wish I'd have made it clearer how much I want this.

"Yes." I twine my leg a little closer around him. "I want that, too." My voice is rough as I say it. I slide my hands up his arms, feeling his muscles, then to his chest.

His face is above mine once more, his expression a combination of lust and wonder. I'm sure I resemble him in that, for I still can't believe this is happening. I'm happy, obviously, and excited, but I also feel so at ease with him. The touch of his body, his enticing smell – everything about him makes me feel that I've known him forever. It feels so natural.

"Ahh…" I'm surprised at my own voice as Edward's hand cups my breast, his thumb languidly brushing over my nipple.

"Good?" He swallows, and the impressive bulge at his crotch gets a little more impressive.

"Yesssss…"

His mouth descends on mine again while his nimble fingers titillate me through my clothes. My lips are swollen and throbbing, as are my girly parts, and I'm beginning to wonder where this will end, and how far I want to go tonight.

I can hear music, and somewhere at the back of my clouded mind I wonder if it automatically turned itself back on, because the CD ended about an hour ago. I guess I lost track of time somewhere in between Edward's kisses and the building tension in my stomach.

Then, I realize it's Moon River, and it's his cell phone lying on the mantelpiece.

"It's your phone," I mumble against his lips.

Edward makes a noncommittal sound, nuzzling his nose with mine before he continues to kiss me.

A couple of minutes later, it rings again, making Edward growl deep in his chest before it stops again. And then, starts again. By the fourth time, he sits up a little, cursing under his breath.

"Maybe you should answer it," I say softly, running one finger down his throat, over his chest, stopping at his stomach.

Edward presses his eyes shut before catching my hand.

"You, Isabella, are a tease." He kisses my palm.

"Am I?" I smile. I know my face is red, and my hair probably looks like a bird's been nesting there, but I've never felt more beautiful.

"Yes you are… And there'll be payback."

Just then, the phone starts ringing for the fifth time, and he gets up, stalking toward the fireplace.

The second he opens it, his face turns ashen.

EDWARD

We have been kissing for hours. My lips are numb. My elbows hurt from hovering above her. The stiffie I have is bordering on being painful. Otherwise, I might never want to do anything else again, other than to kiss this goddess. This beautiful slip of a girl in my arms is consuming me, enchanting me, changing my very core from bitterness and disillusionment to sunshine and pure fucking bliss.

Her body is so small, so delicate, so soft, and I want to bottle up her scent, all girl and powder and roses. I want to cherish her, to know everything there is to know about her, to protect her and call her mine. She tastes so good. Sweet and pure and fresh. Her curves, now that I am not only seeing but also actually feeling them, are even more delicious than I dared to imagine. So soft, and I want to dig my hands into her, squeeze her and lick every inch of that delightful body.

I don't think I've ever felt like this with a woman before, and I've been around a bit. I'm hard, have been for hours now, but I don't want to hurry anything. I want to prove to her that I'm serious about this. I want to slowly drown in that cotton-candy feel, in her body and her little gasps, the sensation of her skin and her hair beneath my fingers.

And then the fucking phone starts ringing and I try to ignore it. After the fourth time, Bella sits up since it's obvious there's something going on.

And I can only pray to God that it isn't what, or rather who, I think it is.

My excuses to all Italians for the probable gibberish I produced. I'd be thankful for help with those three phrases. Just PM me!