Something's Gotta Give

Chapter Seven—When It Rains It Pours


Edward knew his tone would be defensive, but continued anyway. "Shaving, what else does it look like?" Keeping his eyes on the floor instead of on Bella's ass, he grabbed the items he dropped. He hadn't expected to find her dressed in only a pair of minuscule underwear when he came to check on her.

"What for?" She was still hissing at him.

What had he done now? Earlier, after returning from the bathroom, he saw the look in her eyes. The hurt from his quick departure after he fucked her against the door was so damn evident. He knew he hadn't handled it right, but in his defense, he was new to all this. He hadn't had sex in over five years. Even then, he didn't do the whole friends with benefits thing. He had girlfriends, not hookups.

For a brief moment, as he stroked deep inside her, he realized he never wanted to let her go. It scared the hell out of him, considering he had little choice in the matter. She'd leave him when she figured out how much of a damn mess he was and there could be no future. Despite that fear, there was an underlying need to keep her with him. His protective instinct wasn't the only thing that drove him. It was more.

When he slid out of her, he saw the bruises that his too hard of a hold formed on her ivory skin. His mouth and teeth had marked her neck and it felt like a claim. One he hadn't intended to make, but he liked it. He loved seeing his mark on her, and the evidence of what they'd done all over her. The problem was, he wasn't sure she felt the same way. In an attempt to give her and himself some breathing room, he hurt her.

Her question about shaving made him squirm. His answer would make it obvious that he cared too much. He loathed the idea of lying since he'd have to eventually. Maybe he could at least attempt to stall the truth. He wanted to deliver his next words in a not so nice tone, when another thought occurred to him. "Does the idea of my scar disgust you?"

Her eyes widened, but narrowed within a split second. Hands on her hips, the same ones he bruised as he fucked her hard and fast, she gave him a lethal glare. Impressed, he found it difficult to keep from smiling. Her anger never lasted long and it always made him hard.

"I couldn't care less about your scars," she said, clearly frustrated—not that he blamed her. He should have felt relaxed after coming three times. He was wrong. As he watched her hands circle around as she spoke, he knew his frustrations would never cease as long as she was present. "For the love of God, Edward, stop staring at my breasts and look at me." He did, having no idea what she was going on about, but it was obvious he should know. She let out another indicator of her ire, followed by a cute foot stomp. "Why are you shaving? Is it for me?"

He wanted to tell her fuck no, but he chose instead to go with honesty rather than defense that time around. "Well yeah, your skin is all raw from my beard, and if you want further attention between those sweet, sexy thighs of yours, I have to shave."

Edward thought she wasn't listening, appearing dazed. A tiny shift of her shoulders drew his eyes lower. She was clenching her thighs, searching for friction, as if what he said turned her on. He cocked an eyebrow and waited for some kind of response.

"But I like your beard." She was pouting. "I like how the slight burn reminds me of where you've been." Her hand slipped down her stomach, the tips of her fingers skimming the waistband of her lace boxers.

How a conversation about him shaving turned to foreplay, he had no idea. There was no way he would stand there listening to her talk in such a way and do nothing about it. "Come here," he said, his voice lower than before. "Turn off the stove first, Bella."

She did, almost blindly and automatic, as if she'd been in his kitchen countless times. As if she belonged there. He shook away that dangerous thought and watched her walk toward him. The sway of her hips, her bare breasts, and toned stomach had his hand itching to grab hold and not let go again.

"You trimmed it already," she said, lifting a hesitant hand to his jaw. His hands clenched the towel and he tried to keep from barking for her to stop. A part of him wanted her to touch him freely, and yet, he knew he couldn't live with her repulsion. He nodded in reply to her statement. "Come on, I have an idea."

He had a few ideas of his own, but stopped her hand from reaching his face, taking it, and made his way toward the half-bathroom he'd been using earlier.

"Uh, uh, first I need something," she said. Her fingers tightened in his hold, as she led him to his room. Once they reached it, she released his hand and walked over to the dresser. She rummaged in her bag, bent over, making it increasingly difficult for him to remain in control. He felt like an idiot standing by the doorway covered in shaving cream. Ignoring her for the moment, he walked into the attached master bathroom and tossed the towel and razor on the counter. His hands fell on the cool custom granite as he looked in the mirror, the only one in the whole cabin.

What the fuck was he doing? He was catering to her every whim, allowing her control. He needed a distraction before he marched into his room and bent her over the closest surface. Another look at his reflection had him noticing the recent changes. His eyes were brighter, no longer dull as they had been a month before, though the circles beneath them were still dark.

Leaning against the doorframe, Bella touched his arm to catch his attention. In full damn view of the scars that littered his back. His jaw ticked and the urge to cover up made his skin crawl everywhere but under her touch.

"Can you wash that off please?"

He did it without question, though he had a few. Drying off, he waited for her. She slipped her beautiful body between him and the counter, her eyes bright and too observant.

"This is perfect," she said, rubbing one side of his jaw with her soft hand. The one without the three-inch scar, but she slowly lifted her other hand to it. "I can see a little of your skin, but you still have scruff that is sexy as hell." He froze when the tip of her finger slowly slid down his scar, watching her for any signs of disgust. There wasn't any. "The scar doesn't bother me one bit, Edward. So if you want to shave for you, go for it. I know you don't shave your beard because it hides it. If that's what you need, I'm okay with that, too."

He didn't want to do it, but he would if he had to for her. "What about your skin?"

She smiled up at him, her hands clamping gently on his shoulders to jump onto the counter. He regretted not catching on quick enough, because any excuse to get his hands on her was a good one. Taking one of his hands in hers, she slid it up her inner thigh with a tiny sly smile in place.

"Take a look, very little irritation." Temptation in the form of her beautiful mouth had him staring at her lips. She laughed. "Edward." To get his full attention again, she slipped his hand higher, until the tips of his fingers dipped under lace.

"Christ, you're killing me."

She fucking giggled, and the sound only enriched his blood further. "Take a look." He did and his mouth watered with the need to sample the tiny little trio of freckles on the inside of her right thigh. "Your skin was red this morning."

"Remember after the shower, I told you I needed a few minutes." He nodded. "I always lather on this," she lifted a small container of cream for him to see, "after a shower. If my skin gets irritated like, say after I shave, I use it, too. Another application and I'll be just fine."

Edward needed a moment, so he read the ingredients. "No wonder you smell so good all the time." She laughed again and draped her arms over his shoulders. Her lips were closer, yet too far away from his. "So you see, you don't have to shave to protect my delicate skin."

He rolled his eyes and slipped both of his hands inside her underwear around her ass. "What's that other tub?" She flushed and shrugged. He checked it out and laughed. "Beard Butter." After quickly reading the uses, including softening his beard, it made sense why she had it. "When did you order this?"

"The day after you left, that night," she replied and refused to meet his eyes. She meant the day he kissed her and left them both wanting, and then disappeared for a month.

He tipped her chin up and waited until she looked at him again, attempting to hold back a smile of his own. There was already an apology and an explanation for his disappearance, and he knew she wasn't looking for another. She felt embarrassed by her initiative.

In a very serious tone, he addressed the issue. "You're pretty sure of yourself." She slapped his bicep and pinched his side. "Relax, relax," he said, wrapping his arms around her tightly, to keep her from hitting him and rubbing herself against his cock. "Simmer down, slugger."

She did, nuzzling his chest and calling him an asshole. He laughed and stepped back enough to look in the mirror. "I still need to shave a little." He tilted his chin up and rubbed the area along his throat. "I want to feel more of your mouth right here."

She leaned forward and kissed him just below his chin. "Right here?" He shook his head, hoping it would encourage her to explore further. Her lips continued as he hoped, and a little suck made his body tremble, but it was the slow stroke of her tongue along his Adam's apple that had him claiming her mouth with a brutal kiss.

It was her that pulled away first, and the slight daze in her eyes was amazing to see. "Uh, uh," she whispered, and picked up the razor. "You still need to shave a bit, remember." His eyes narrowed, but he could play her waiting game.

She moved enough for him to pull out a bottle of shaving cream from inside his medicine cabinet. For a second, he was thankful for the foresight to remove his meds from inside, not wanting to explain why he needed them. She took the bottle, preventing him from sinking to a dark hole whenever he thought of the extent of his health issues. She deposited a nice amount of the cream in her hand and spread it along his throat.

"Is that good?" she asked, still not moving from her position.

"Yeah," he said, turning on the faucet behind her and skimming his fingers over her breast along the way. She moaned softly, slipping off the counter and onto her feet in front of him. "You gonna stay there?" She said nothing, only fingered the button of his jeans. He shrugged and picked up the razor.

"Don't nick yourself," she murmured as he started. His eyes nearly rolled when he felt her lips on his arm. "Keep going."

"Kind of hard to do that when your mouth is on me," he said. She was challenging him, and as much as he wanted to drop the razor and take her, he continued. "Fuck." Two of her fingers traced the outline of his cock. It took a moment for him to start up again, but when he did, she awarded him with another kiss or caress. On the last stroke of the razor, she dropped to her knees and worked to unbutton his pants. "Damn." He groaned when he felt her tongue on him. He wiped the remaining shaving cream off with a towel and then slipped his fingers through her hair. His free hand rubbed over his face roughly, overwhelmed and desperate to feel more. "Just like that, Bella." He guided her, earning a hum of approval. "Fuck."

If he didn't stop her, he'd come down her throat much too soon. Any other time, he wouldn't mind, especially when she seemed to enjoy what she was doing, but he wanted to be deep inside her when he came. Slipping from her mouth with a groan, he lifted her up and walked her toward the shower, and to the convenient steps that led to the large tub in the corner. He tapped her shapely ass, placed one of her feet on the step above, and pressed his chest along her back. She moaned deeply as he teased her from behind.

"Bend forward and hold on," he said hoarsely, his eyes focused on the sight of his cock sliding on her slick skin. A husky whimper of his name had him thrusting inside her the moment her hands grabbed hold of the tub's edge. "You feel so good." He kept a slow, torturous pace, his calloused hands roaming every one of her curves. His lips and tongue nipped along her back. She moaned in tandem with each buck of his hips. He held her close, gently nibbling on her neck and shoulders. His hand curled around a breast and the other slipped between her thighs. "Mine." The word was a chant on his lips her acknowledge of it, drove him to move faster. His thighs burned when he finally felt her clench around him, her hoarse cry echoing in the room. It was all too much and two erratic thrusts later, he spilled inside her.

Spent and utterly exhausted, he had enough strength to lift her up and place her on the bed. His hand swept some of the silky, but messy hair away from her face. She gave him a sleepy smile, flopping down on the mattress. "I can't move."

His laughter caught him by surprise, but he ignored the warning his mind gave him. "I'll finish up with the food, you stay here."

"'Kay," she said, her fingers skimming along his hip. The tiny move had him rethinking his priorities. Her stomach rumbling brought them back in order. "Hurry back." Lying on his bed, with her hair fanned out and looking freshly fucked, he had a hard time leaving. Her eyes fluttered closed, one knee bent while the other fell slightly to the side, giving him one hell of a view.

"Damn," he said and walked backward toward the door. "I'll be back in a few." Unaware of what she was doing to him, she only hummed in acknowledgement. He jogged to the kitchen, and started up the soup and put another frying pan on the stove. After a quick double check to see that he was alone, he grabbed his keys and fished out his meds from a locked cabinet in the mudroom.

He eyed the half dozen pills of various colors with some disgust. There was no reason to tell her, he told himself. She would never know. Things between them would end before it became an issue. If he told himself that enough times, maybe he'd believe it.

~oOo~

"Stay close, Bella," he warned her, once they reached the destination he had in mind. Once a month, he searched his property for fallen trees to harvest for firewood. He supplied about twenty percent of the community's supply. There was plenty in storage, but with winter temperatures falling a little more each year, he wanted more stock on hand.

From the moment they drove up the meadow, her eyes and mind were on the scenery and what shots to line up. For the last few days, they woke up at dawn, usually with her lips around him, or his head between her thighs. They'd have breakfast and head out to explore his property. He marked fallen trees on his hand drawn map, cut firewood, or burs for his art pieces, though she had no idea of that. She'd have her camera equipment with her, lugging it around to get that elusive perfect shot.

"This place is amazing," she whispered. He tried not to be amused. She had the habit of making him laugh, not an easy feat by any means.

"Why are you whispering?" His question had the effect he hoped for, she startled and pouted at him.

"You make me crazy."

"Feeling is mutual," he said, tossing her a water bottle. "Stay fucking hydrated this time. If you faint on me again, I'll spank your ass. You hear me?" She looked at the bottle and back at him with a little gleam in her eyes. "I mean it. We're too far up the mountain if something happens to you."

The day before, they'd gone out to the far end of his property and she fainted. Too focused on her work to realize she hadn't had anything to drink or eat for hours. He blamed himself for not keeping an eye on her while she wandered off. She was absentminded when she was working.

Her gaze softened and he regretted saying anything. She probably thought he cared more than he did. "I'll stay hydrated and close. What are you up to?"

"Going to cut something off of that old tree over there," he said, pointing a few hundred yards away from them.

She cocked her head to one side, a smile playing on her lips. "You seriously think I wouldn't recognize the pieces in your cabin?" He hoped she wouldn't, but she was too observant for her own good. "I have the entire Red series." His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. "Found them through an art dealer last year. The mysterious artist was the reason I chose this town."

Edward had no idea what to make of that. "Three of your pieces are in my office."

She smiled. "I know." When he waited for her to continue, she rolled her eyes. "Gianna said my anonymous buyer was also an artist and nearly a recluse of the mountain. It didn't take long to put two and two together."

"I want to pick out another three," he said, pointing to her camera. For a few hours daily, she was on her laptop going over photographs. She preferred old school methods, but didn't have the proper equipment to set up a dark room.

"I think I can arrange that," she said, in a voice slightly huskier than before. "I might need some convincing."

"I think that can be arranged."

She danced a little in victory, and looked up at the partially clouded sky. "We're burning daylight."

"Stay close," he reminded her. She was halfway across the meadow when he allowed his attention to wander to his work.

Edward mentally went through his list of things he needed to do by the end of the day, including a quick check to see if Bella's handler had responded to her message. The day before he set up a program to prevent tracing it back to his location and had made a carefully coded listing in the online newspaper. She said it was too soon for him to respond, having agreed to wait at least twenty-four hours between messages in the hopes not to raise suspicion. It wouldn't hurt to be sure; the sooner he knew the better. He had contingency plans if the worst had happened, despite the fact that he'd have to leave his parents behind.

For a few hours, he was busy with work, but he heard Bella singing from time to time as she moved through the trees. His eyes would often wander to where she stood, her back usually to him. She always stopped humming the moment she had the perfect shot and her tongue would peek out before she snapped the picture. Normally, he hated attention of any kind as he worked on his projects, while she didn't seem to mind.

His arms ached sometime later, the clouds darkening overhead. A storm was approaching from the west, fast and full of thunder and rain. That was when he felt it; the subtle signs. Fuck.

Bella packed up her equipment, and started toward the truck to put it away. The rain would come soon and Edward would likely be ready to head back to the cabin. Her mind itched to work on the images she took, but her body was humming with another need. The day before, after she scared Edward with passing out, they made love in the rain. She wasn't sure what drove him to ignore the storm. Only that there seemed to be an underlying need to be close him she didn't understand and knew he'd never share with her.

She had no doubt he cared, and that it wasn't only what they did with their bodies that he craved. He asked questions about her, listened and talked to her, seemingly wanting to know her. It was rather refreshing, since her last few lovers proved selfish. He returned the favor, sharing cute memories of his youth, and few embarrassing incidents with some of the locals. There were times he'd shut down, mostly when their conversation turned more serious. He was still leery about sharing anything about his high school days and the friends he lost overseas. She hadn't expected him to open up overnight, so she avoided pushing him. He told her earlier that morning that he hated that he couldn't share more, and she believed him. Maybe if time remained on their side, he could trust her enough with his secrets.

Done with her things, she slammed the door to the truck and went to look for Edward. She had heard him chopping at a stubborn tree stump, but that had suddenly stopped as she made her way toward where she last heard him.

His hand was on a nearby tree and his head hung low between his shoulders. The axe lay a few feet away from him, along with plaid shirt.

"Edward?"

His shoulders bunched and he quickly leveled her with a glare. "Get back to the truck, I'll be right there." His words were harsh and barely decipherable through the clench of his teeth.

"What? Wait."

He shook his head and tilted it back. "For once, listen and get back to the fucking truck!"

That stopped her. He almost seemed scared, maybe something was close by and he was trying to protect her. A bear? Mountain lion? She backed away, whirling and running toward the only sanctuary. The heavens opened up and poured heavy, cold rain, drenching her in only a few seconds. Why wasn't Edward right behind her?

Indecision was a bitch, but instinct had her turning back. Thankful for a damn good sense of direction, she found the way back to the tree stump Edward was working on, even in the pouring rain.

What she saw made her heart drop to her stomach. "Edward!" She scrambled, wet fallen leaves making her slide on unsteady feet. "Oh my God, what's wrong?" His nonresponse made her heart race, as she fell to her knees by his prone figure. One quick look around, she saw no signs of a predator around. No sign of blood, either. Her hands fluttered over his back, until she noticed the way his body was tensing and relaxing. She cursed and turned him to his side, a trickle of blood on the corner of his mouth. Her arms wrapped around him loosely from behind, waiting out his seizure.

Edward stirred a few minutes later, exhausted and his head screamed with the oncoming headache. He felt her arms tighten around him. "How did you know?"

Bella hummed in his ear and answered, "My dad and my ex…" She said something under her breath that he could barely hear.

He wanted to scream at her, to tell her to stop talking about things he didn't want to hear. Shame and downright anger from the injustice of it all wanted to push her away.

"My dad had seizures after a bullet ricocheted into his brain during a robbery."

"Jesus."

"Do you feel them coming? An aura?" It would explain why he tossed the axe away from him and told her to leave.

He nodded, but refused to give her more. If he wasn't so exhausted, he'd drive her down the mountain and leave her at home. Things had gotten a lot more complicated, because he never wanted her to know.

"Let's get out of the rain." She helped him to his feet, the effects of the seizure subsiding other than the headache. "You can tell me about the pot you're growing." She wasn't running as he expected. She heaved his arm across her shoulder, and though he hated to burden her with his weight, he leaned on her. A wave of dizziness kept him from complaining.

"Tit for tat, though. I know you've told me a lot already, but nowhere did you mention a fucking ex-husband."

He watched her wince and go through a series of emotions; anger softened to indignation, then to understanding. "Fine, but you have to promise to hear me out before you go all asshole on me."

He cocked an eyebrow in question, making no promises; he had a feeling the conversation could make or break them.