Good morning! As usual, this is beta'd by the fabulous Fran! Ninkita, 2browneyes and my new pre-reader, Sunshine, have been kind enough to give me their comments.
Gore rating—0
I lift my hand and flick two fingers, prompting the waiter forward to accept my next drink before relaxing back into a lounging position, brushing off the voluptuous woman on fucking purpose.
"Thanks … " I pause and eye him, waiting for him to supply his name.
He widens his eyes before a smile as bright as the fucking sun lights his face. "Mike, Boss. At your service."
I nod, storing it for possible future use, and take a generous sip of my drink before cutting my gaze back to the glass that surrounds me. As usual, the effect when my eyes land on her is visceral. A fucking surge rushes through me and collects in my heart, kicking it into high speed. If I didn't know any fucking better, I'd think I just puffed a generous glass bowl.
I find myself fucking transfixed by the placement of her hands as she sways her hips to an erotic beat. They span just below her tits as if covering a magical line; the two sections of her body dance separate but in tandem. As they move down over the expanse of her stomach, her movements respond in kind, and by the time she grips the top of her thighs, I realize my whole body has tensed in goddamn anticipation.
When a neatly manicured hand lands on my thigh, I'm snatched back into reality, and it's quite fucking jarring. I jerk the offensive appendage off and snap my eyes to the wrong fucking brunette. "Do not fucking touch me," I growl.
"Oh, Edward," she coos, without the least bit of fear, like my anger means nothing. Maybe I've put up with her bullshit in the past, but tonight, she's fucking distracting me from my purpose. "Will tonight's game be playing hard to get?"
My eyes narrow and I look at her, really fucking look, only to realize there's not one remarkable thing about her. Her whole façade is just that. A fake, made-up persona that doesn't do one goddamn thing for me. I even feel a little queasy when I consider the times I've enjoyed her attention in the past—or that might be the alcohol.
I bark out a laugh. "I thought the last five months were enough to clue you in. We're done. Now get lost and let me drink in fucking peace."
My eyes fall back to Bella as if she's metal and they're magnets. The music has changed now, and it makes me a little fucking irritated that I missed the seamless transition she made between beats—because she always does. But each second that I'm able to watch her causes it to lessen, because fuck, she's moving slow now—her every goddamn move seems to stretch on for seconds at a time.
I may even emit a soft fucking sigh.
Being so focused does all kinds of fuck-awesome things to my insides, but it isn't so fucking good when it attracts the wrong kind of attention to the object of my desire. It isn't until she's straddled my midsection that I realize Angela had stood to follow my line of sight.
With a bored sigh, I begrudgingly cut my eyes back to her—well, her fake tits that are bulging from the top of her dress as she leans over me. "I'm not fucking interested." I drag my eyes up so she can get the full fucking effect of my glare.
Her face is just inches from mine, and the red of her lips as they form a pout does absolutely nothing for me. "Edward," she says, her fingers running through the hair at my temples. "We both know that's a lie. Our time together was always fun."
Before I can rebuke her, she's lowered her lips and attached them to mine quite fucking forcefully. The amount of alcohol I've consumed slows my reflexes, but when they kick in, it's with a hard shove that lands her prissy ass on the floor.
She jumps up all smoke and steam, but I can't even be bothered to fucking care—until, that is, she perches on the edge of my seat and tilts her head to the dance floor below. "You should know better than to intermingle with the help. It doesn't become you."
Even inebriated, it doesn't take me but a second to form the proper response to that fucking bullshit. I snort. "I find that fucking hilarious since you fall into that same category."
She withdraws as if I slapped her, which causes me to smirk. "How dare you even make that generalization. I work for the most prestigious security firm in the world. There is no comparison."
While what she's saying has merit, frankly I don't give a fuck. Though she works for Grizzly, it's a company I partially own; therefore, she's the fucking help, the same as Bella. But even more than that, she's fucking ruining the only hope I had of turning around a really shitty day, and I'm so goddamn over it.
I sit up abruptly, pausing to let my head catch up, and motion for her to back the fuck up. She stands with a satisfied smile. Getting up myself, I find Ben and flick my fingers for him to join me.
This might get ugly.
Grabbing her arm, I step closer and lean my head down, so my lips are close to her ear. "Angela," I purr, using the sexiest voice I can muster in my current state. "It was nice of you to offer, but even if my mind could get on board, my cock's no longer cooperating. It finds everything about you to be a turn-off."
I hear her gasp before she snatches her arm away and steps back. "How dare you!"
"It's the truth." Sliding my hands in my pocket, I shrug. "Now, please, go hit on some other poor unsuspecting shmuck and leave me the fuck alone!"
"I'm not some toy you can put on the shelf until you want to play again, Edward Cullen." She steps forward with her hand in the air.
Normally, I'd break her goddamn fingers for even attempting it, but the alcohol has my reflexes in some fucked up mode that only allows me to watch as her hand comes closer and closer before making sharp contact with my cheek.
Everything around me goes silent as Ben swiftly moves in and grabs Angela around the waist. It takes a second for my brain to catch up with what the fuck just happened, but when I do, my muscles tense as I watch her struggle and make the scene even worse.
All the anger that has consumed me throughout the day returns in full fucking force, and I take one step forward, gripping her chin between my fingers. "You're considered one of the smartest people in the world, so I shouldn't have to tell you what your next move is going to be."
She jerks away and lifts her chin in defiance. "Go to hell, Edward."
I toss my head back and let out a dark laugh, bracing my body to keep from stumbling. "Of that, there's no doubt"—I lean down and place my lips to her ear—"but I'll rule that motherfucker too."
Stepping back, I tilt my head for Ben to get her the fuck out of my sight and catch Mike's eye as he loiters behind them. I wave him over. "Keep 'em coming."
He scurries off to fulfill my request, and slowly, the area comes back to life as the VIP patrons get back to their own partying. I'm finally fucking able to settle back and do my goddamn stalking in peace.
But when my eyes make their way to Bella, I find her looking right the fuck back at me. Though the music is slow, her movements aren't exaggerated and sensual like earlier. Oh no, they're fucking sharp, instant, snapping to the beat of the drum in the background.
I'd almost say she's fucking pissed.
I can't look away—not that I ever could.
When Mike pops back over with my fresh drink, I barely glance at him for fear of losing Bella's dark, seductive gaze. Knowing that she's watching me watch her heightens the experience, but instead of sending the blood rushing to my cock, it travels to my fucking alcohol-addled brain, making me woozy. I grip my head to steady it and snort.
Goddamn evil seductress.
For the rest of the night, I drink and watch, my eyes never leaving her performance. There comes a point where I can't even tell if she's looking at me anymore, but I could give a fuck less. I can see her, and that's the only thing that fucking matters.
Sometimes I even see two of her.
Then everything goes quiet, and the next thing I know, a soft voice is reverberating through my head. "Edward," it says, accompanied with a shake of my shoulder, which makes my head swim.
My mind has trouble coming to terms with what the fuck's happening, so I retreat, pulling away from the touch, but it moves to my cheek. Soft skin caresses me, and I nuzzle into it, because, why wouldn't I?
"You really poured one on, didn't ya?" the same soft voice says, and it's inviting, important even, but I can't fucking remember why. All I know is that it's soothing, and I want to wrap myself in it like a blanket.
There's a giggle, and then the worst fucking thing imaginable happens. Two fingers clamp on my nostrils, sealing them closed, and while I can breathe through my mouth, it feels like an attack and my body reacts on instinct.
I sit up abruptly, wide a-fucking-wake now, and grab the offender, pinning their body against the lounger. "Big mistake, fucker," I growl, still trying to get a grasp onto the here and now.
That same giggle I heard earlier comes from the person below me, so I shake my head and zero my focus on the face beneath me. I smirk.
I guess dreams really do come true.
"Bella Swan?" I ask, because I'm beginning to doubt if this fucked up situation is even real. Last I saw, she was taking my goddamn breath from her podium.
"Try to help a guy out, and this is what you get." She shrugs and motions between us.
As I take stock, I realize I have her pinned halfway beneath me, our chests pressed tightly together. "I don't know," I muse, taking in the feel of her tits as her chest moves up and down. "I can't find anything wrong with this position, especially after the way you've tortured me tonight."
She snorts and pushes against my shoulders, hard enough to disorient me in my fucking inebriated state. I lose my balance, only to barely catch myself in time to plop my ass on the floor next to the lounger.
I scrub my hand through my hair, propping my head back and tilting it so I can see her as she sits up. "What the fuck was that for?"
She crosses her arms over her chest. "I'm not your keeper, Edward, but don't try to play me for a fool either."
I stare at her for a second, wondering what in the absolute fuck she's talking about, but it hurts my goddamn brain to even consider, so I give up, casting my eyes to the ceiling instead. "Fucking women," I mumble.
Apparently, she doesn't like that shit either because she's up and standing before me in two seconds flat. "Look, I'm sorry for bothering you, but Rose asked if I could come wake you. I'm not sure why, but it seemed important to her."
This is the first chance I've had to look at her since she's been up here, so I do. My eyes start at her feet and make their way up her body, memorizing every single dip and swerve. She's added a tank and teeny tiny—is that fucking spandex—skirt over her dance clothes, and fuck, even in cheap clothes, she's sexy as fuck.
Her throat clearing snaps me from my ogling, and I let my head drop back against the lounger, my eyes back toward the ceiling—it actually helps with the spinning. "Shit sorry," I say, but I don't mean it. How can I when she looks like that? "Yeah, Rose." I fucking snort. "She sent you because she's afraid I'm gonna clip her ass."
Bella laughs a little, but when I roll my head over and lift my brows, she stops. "You're serious?"
Her outline gets a little fuzzy, prompting me to squint my eyes closed and press them with my fingers. When I reopen them, I wave my hand through the air. "Not really." But when I see her relax—because I notice every slight fluctuation of her body—I figure I better make myself a little more fucking clear. "Hold up"—I push my hands out in front of me—"I don't want you getting the wrong idea here. Rose is on my shit list, like at the fucking top, but she won't die for it. She's found herself a security blanket in Emmett, and as long as she's important to him, she's off limits, but that's the only reason she's not on my hit list."
Bella does this little sexy roll of her shoulders as she crosses her arms over her chest and lifts the bitch brow. "You have a hit list?" Her voice has an edge of disbelief to it, and I fucking guess she has a point.
I roll my eyes, and it makes my head swim so I completely fucking regret it. "Okay, you got me. No list"—I look at her as seriously as I can—"but people who cross me tend to disappear, Bella."
"So that's it?" she asks, still in bitch stance. "You come here and basically stalk me just so you can convince me you're a bad man. Well, I have news for you, Edward Cullen, I knew you were dangerous when I stepped into that office to dance for you. But you know what I've learned since then?" She doesn't even pause long enough for me to answer—not that I could. "That you'd go out of your way to help someone who's in trouble."
I drop my head back against the lounger with a huff. "I was looking for you, Bella, of course I was going to intervene when two guys were attacking you."
"The first night, too?" she asks in a fake sugary voice.
Now I think it's her who's making my head fucking spin with all the questions. "No, the first night I just happened upon you and was pissed you were walking alone so late at night."
"Aha," she says triumphantly, causing my head to jerk back in her direction. With her finger pointing at me, she says, "See? Not such a big bad, scary man after all."
Jesus Fucking Christ! It is her that's making my head spin. "Your point?"
She bends so her face is hovering just above mine. "You're more than a killer, Edward Cullen."
I blink and stare at her, seriously questioning my sanity. The more I consider it, the more I think she's just an apparition; some fucked up vision my mind is conjuring. But whatever she is, the tension that's crackling between us makes my heart speed, sending excess blood rushing to my head. Too fucking bad for me that in my current state it only makes me dizzier.
Groaning, I run both hands through my hair and close my eyes in an attempt to gain my bearings. When I reopen them, she's still there, but back to her standing position.
Maybe it is all real.
I stretch my hand out and grip her calf, urging her to step closer. When she does, I relax my hold and run my thumb against the soft skin. "I'm so fucked in the head right now that I can barely carry on this conversation, much less keep up. All I wanted was to see you again, but this day's been one big cluster fuck."
Bella smiles softly. "Well, you got one wish, at least. Here I am." She motions to herself with her hands.
"Yes," I agree with a smirk—I think. "Here you are."
I don't know how long we stay that way—time's pretty fucked for me right now—but it feels like a minute or maybe even an hour. My thumb continues its circuit, caressing the soft skin of her leg, and she lets me.
A whistle from the floor below interrupts the silence as Bella snaps from the moment, stepping back so that my hand drops to the floor. "It's pretty late. I think Rose is ready to lock up."
I growl at hearing her name. "I have a key. Just tell her to go the fuck on."
Bella squats beside me and brushes her fingers across my hand. "Why don't I just help you home instead?" she asks softly, and my eyes snap to hers.
"I'm pretty sure I don't need help," I reply, lowering my voice. "But if you want to go home with me, just fucking say so."
Bella huffs and rolls her eyes, standing and crossing her arms. "Such a cocky fucker, aren't you? Even after your little show earlier, I was being nice, but you can just go fuck yourself."
She turns to stomp away, and even though I have no damn clue what's she going on about, I don't want her to go. I jerk my legs up and stand with a swiftness I'm not prepared for, because the whole fucking room spins and I lose the ability to stay upright. My ass lands back on the lounger with a resounding thump, my vision vibrating into one big blur.
I close my eyes and breathe deeply, trying to settle my stomach as much as my goddamn inebriated mind. Fuck! I slap my hand on the leather beside me in frustration with both myself and Bella.
Why does shit have to be so fucking complicated?
And why the hell did I get so goddamn drunk?
Taking steady deep breaths, I bring my hands up and dig my palms into my eyes, staying that way until the spinning fucking stops and the darkness levels out. This goddamn day is only getting worse, and it's never fucking ending.
Can't a guy catch a fucking break?
A nudge to my leg brings me out of the little pity party happening inside my head, and a surge of hope rushes through me. My breathing speeds ever so slightly, and I work to calm myself before opening my eyes. I drop my arms and grunt as I lift onto my elbows to face the woman who probably should've left me lying here like the drunken asshole that I am.
"Bella," I say evenly, afraid she'll disappear if I let her see how fucking ecstatic it makes me that she's here. "You stayed."
As I sit up fully, she sighs and flops down beside me on the lounger. "You can't even stand upright, of course I stayed."
I smirk—mostly because I'm a stupid motherfucker. "If you say so."
"Look, Edward," she starts, pinning me with her dark, possibly irritated eyes. "I don't know what I expected when I came up here, but this isn't it. I'm not sure why you did this to yourself, but I'm going to help you get home."
Before I can say something stupid—again—she slips her hand over my mouth. "No snide remarks, no innuendo, no nothing. Just let me help you home. Okay?"
Because I can't fucking speak, I nod, and she slowly lowers her hand. "Thank you, Bella."
"Anytime, Edward," she says softly, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "And I mean that, but you have to understand, the last time I entertained the idea of"—she pauses and glances away from me—"spending time with you, I had a gun pulled on me."
I grip her hands to stop their anxious movements and reach over with my pointer finger, tilting her face back in my direction. "That will never fucking happen again!" I growl, unable to rein in the anger at the picture she paints. I take a deep breath and try again. "I'm not going to lie and say there are no issues when it comes to us, but I promise you now, they all lie with me, and only me. You're free to do as you please, Bella."
If she's taken aback at the passion in my voice, she doesn't show it, she only stares at me with those fucking seductive eyes. "I'd like to believe that, but we're talking about my life here, not some random person who may or may not be on your hit list." She smiles to let me know she's joking, but I don't like that it bothers her—and it does, or she wouldn't have said it.
"Just trust me on this," I state firmly, pushing a wayward curl behind her ear. "Carlisle Cullen is no threat to you."
She bats her eyes all innocently and shit before asking, "Am I confused on which of you is the Boss?"
Fucking smartass.
I throw my hands in the air with a snort. "Can't win with you, can I?"
Her satisfied laugh makes me smile. "How about I get you home, and we call that a win?" she asks as she gets to her feet and motions for me to join her.
I take a deep breath and blow it out before attempting to stand. This shit hasn't worked out very well for me tonight. On unsteady legs, and with the meager assistance of Bella holding onto my arm for extra balance, I fucking finally put my feet to use without my head sending me back on my ass.
I chuckle, proud of myself, but it only makes me woozy. "Shit!" I exclaim as I sway on my feet.
But Bella's there, slipping her arm around my waist to steady me. Her body settles against mine, and she's surprisingly sturdy for such a small woman. "See, this is why you need help. Now, where to?"
I have to look around for a minute to gain my bearings before pointing toward the elevator. "Over there."
The going is slow when we start, the first ten steps a little rocky, but by the time we step into the small box, my head is a little less fucking scattered. Not quite enough to have a repeat of our last encounter, but that doesn't stop the tension from mounting. It's goddamn suffocating by the time the doors open.
Bella isn't as quick to snuggle up to me this time, which causes me to smirk to myself as I move to the wall and use it for extra support. When we come to the fingerprint door, she lifts her brow as it opens but otherwise says nothing. It isn't until we exit into my garage that she realizes what we just did.
"Ah, nice," she says, seemingly impressed with my underground passageway. "There's always going to be more to uncover, I see."
I huff out a laugh as I see Demetri stepping from his office. "Trust me, there's plenty you don't want to know."
"Boss?" he says as he approaches us.
"Bella mi sta solo aiutando a tornare a casa. Avevo un po 'troppo da bere." I wave him off, explaining that Bella's helping me home because of my overindulgence.
As expected, he gets that same damn look he gave me the last time we were here together. My eyes narrow. "Don't."
He throws his hands up and backs away. "Nessun problema."
I go to roll my fucking eyes, but then I remember the shape my head's in and think twice. Instead, I just watch as he retreats before cutting my eyes to Bella—the intensity of her stare causes an unexplainable heat to move over my body.
I look away, and still using the wall for support, I point to the elevator. "Just one more ride and you've performed your civic duty."
When she almost chokes—on what I have no goddamn idea—I move to pat her on the back. "What the fuck, Bella. Are you okay?"
She coughs a couple times and moves away from my touch, her eyes on the elevator ahead. "Yeah, sure. Air just went down the wrong pipe, I guess."
"Well, fuck, be careful," I say with a chuckle as I scan my thumbprint.
This elevator ride is even more tense than the last—and twice as fucking long, too. But I don't attack, and that's mostly because I'm afraid I'll fall on my ass if every bit of my concentration isn't on standing. Only the sound of our breaths can be heard, and they're fucking heavy—both of us are panting like goddamn dogs in the summertime by the time the doors open again.
As we step into the living room, I turn to her and shrug apologetically. "I would offer you a drink, but ya know."
She laughs a little—fucking finally—and motions toward the stairs. "Why don't we get you to bed, and I'll be on my way."
Both my brows rise before a slow smirk lifts the corner of my lip—now this shit I can get behind. But before I can decide which line to use, she steps closer and braces herself against me the way she did at Midnight Sun.
"I'm serious, Edward. No innuendo, remember? Now point me to your room," she says, and her voice is all clinical and shit. I don't like it, not one fucking bit.
I take advantage of the position as much as I can without getting scolded and wrap my arm around her shoulder. "That way."
Though I can tell she's surprised I didn't point to the stairs, she doesn't say anything. She just starts guiding me to my room. A flutter of something strange moves through me, but I shake off that unusual bullshit.
When we enter my room, I can't help but watch her as she takes it in. This is my sanctuary. Every single item was handpicked—well the whole penthouse really—by me, and I take special pride in my taste, especially when it comes to this room.
She guides me to the bed and removes herself from my side, prompting me to take a seat. "So you need me to get your PJs or something?"
I stretch out my legs and let the games begin. "You gonna help me get ready for bed?"
Her eyes jump back to mine as she recognizes the challenge in my voice. Her chin lifts, and she crosses her arms, drawing my eyes to the mounds that peek from the top of her tank. "What, you think that'll be an issue for me?"
I lick my lips, and my eyes jump to hers. "I think it'll be an issue for us both."
She fucking snorts. "Not likely."
I widen my arms, motioning to myself. "I sleep in the nude."
You know that moment when you see someone balk—I do, I've seen it a million fucking times—this is it. A flash of shock moves over her face so quickly I almost miss it before she digs in her heels and squares her shoulders, starting in my direction.
I tense, unsure what to expect, but when her hands go to the buttons of my shirt, the tension becomes anticipatory. Her fingers slide down my chest, and my shirt is open and falling from my shoulders before I can even out my breaths. My white silk undershirt is discarded just as fucking swiftly.
Fuck!
The next goddamn thing I know, I'm flat on my back, and her fingers are working my slacks. Even in my current state, the traitor down below makes his preference known, rising to the fucking occasion. But right now, I can't even be bothered to fucking care because as she removes my socks, the thump of my Kershaw Launch 3 as it hits the carpet seems to be the only sound in the room.
Bella's still in her bent position, her eyes on the floor—well, on my knife I'm pretty goddamn sure. But I remain silent, propped on my elbows, watching her. Slowly, she stoops lower, retrieving the weapon and standing to her full height. Her seductive eyes flicker to me then back to the Kershaw before she swipes her thumb, causing the blade to swing open.
My forgotten cock jumps in my Zimmerli black silk boxers, and she takes fucking notice. Her eyes rove over me, burning every inch of my skin, and I'm helpless to stop it—or advance it—so I do what I do best, challenge her.
"Is that it, Bella?" I run my tongue over my bottom lip. The image of her holding my knife is the stuff fantasies are made of.
Her eyes rake up from my already straining bulge ro meet mine. She lifts a brow and closes the knife in one swift move, placing it on the nightstand. "You're not naked yet," she snarks before grabbing my boxers and tugging.
I'm both equally turned on and frustrated, because it's obvious from her attitude that this is as far as I'm getting tonight. I sigh and scoot up, pulling the duvet back and crawling under, allowing all the cottony goodness to envelop me. "You should be glad I'm off my game tonight."
"I'm not a game, Edward. What we did was ridiculously hot, and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't imagined a repeat performance, but I won't be someone's toy either." She looks around and locates my pants, pulling my cell from the pocket and tossing it to me. "Just call Red Dress if those are your intentions."
I search my memory, confused—until it hits me. Angela. I bark a laugh. "Sit, Bella." I pat the bed. "Red Dress' name is Angela, and yes, we were seeing each other—six months ago. I may not be boyfriend material, but I respect the woman I'm seeing by only sleeping with her. Once I'm no longer satisfied, I move on."
"Did you tell her that?" she asks, then quickly adds, "Because she didn't seem to know."
"Trust me, when I'm no longer there, she knows," I respond with a shake of my head. "But that's also the beauty of it. I don't ask for a commitment from her because I know I our relationship will never move beyond the dating stage."
"So, what? Long-term fuck budies?" She snorts.
I reach over and run my fingertip up her arm. "Sometimes long, sometimes short. Depends," I say with a one-shoulder shrug. "But never think that I don't know how to treat a woman. I realize they need attention aside from sexual satisfaction, so I don't think fuck buddy is the proper term."
"So you're a perpetul dater," she says after mulling it over.
"Sure." I shrug. "If you have to classify it, but I have perpetually dated the same woman for almost two years before."
She nods and looks down, watching her fingers as they trace the design on my duvet. "And now?" she asks without looking at me.
"I'm only sleeping with you," I respond truthfully.
Her head jerks up and her eyes narrow. "You've only slept with me once."
I smirk—a full on drunk, pretty-boy smirk. "So far."
She gets up and grabs a decorative pillow, lobbing it at my head. "We'll see. Now get some sleep."
"Wait," I call out, stopping her before she gets to my doors. "Let me call Demetri to give you a ride home." She starts shaking her head, so I sit up and jab my finger in her direction. "Yes! Or I'll get up and escort you myself."
"Fine," she says with a huff.
After the call is made and Demetri's instructions are clear, I crook my finger, hoping to lure her back for a kiss goodnight, but she's having none of it—probably because my mouth tastes like ass.
"Sleep, Edward. I have a feeling I'll be seeing you again."
"It's a date." I smirk and close my eyes, falling asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.
Two things:
This Edward is proving more complicated than I expected. He's particular and fancies himself quite a lot; therefore, he expects his chapters to be entertaining simply because he's the one telling them. It's making them a little more difficult to write. Please be patient. You'll never wait more than every other week, though.
ICYMI—I've made my book, Wanted Dead or Alive by Faye Byrd, free again for today only on Amazon.
See you in a couple weeks :)
