"So this is where you disappeared to."
I'm lying on my stomach; the sun is beating down on my back, and even over the sound of the waves and the seagulls and the ocean wind, I know it's him. I don't even have to look.
I don't look.
I can't.
He drops down beside me on the big towel they gave me at the hotel, and he smells fresh and clean. Like lavender. Like my shampoo. I turn my head away from him because the urge to look at him is so strong, so much I think I'll lose every bit of the resolve I'm clinging to inside.
"You know," he starts, his hand touching the small of my back. And even though it's hot out here and the August sun has been beating down on my sunscreened-skin for the best part of two hours, I still heel this heat. "If you're going to try to run away, you're gonna have to do better than leaving me in your room. In the same hotel I work at."
"I wasn't running away," I lie.
"Oh, really? I must have missed the part where you woke me up and we had sex again because I have to say…that was totally my plan for this morning."
Fuck.
"Well, your plan was flawed."
"No," he says, his hand sliding up my back and playing with the strings on my bathing suit. "I'm pretty sure my plan ended with both of us happy and satisfied, while yours ended with me waking up alone in a bed that still smelled like you…like sex." His fingers slide under the strings, pressing softly against my skin, while I fight everything in me that begs me to turn around and let him touch me everywhere else. "And you ended up here alone, getting what looks like the beginning of a sunburn. I think that means my plan was definitely better than your plan."
I don't say anything because I have no witty remark, and honestly because the feeling of him touching me in such an innocent yet intimate way is causing me to lose the capability to think. Much less speak.
"Bella," he says my name, fully leaning over me now and blocking my body from the sun. "Look at me. Can't you even look at me?"
His voice is soft and genuine…pleading. And just like that, I look at him and snap, "I don't even know your name! Do you know what that means…what that says about me?"
His smile is the kind of smile that makes me want to forget little details like the fact that I don't really know him or his name. "I'd like to think that it means you were so caught up in the moment, so busy enjoying me and all the things I wanted to do to you – that I did to you – that my name didn't seem important. Because – and forgive me for saying so – what we did together last night is hell of a lot more interesting and important than my name. It's Edward, by the way. Hi, my name is Edward. I have copies of all my college transcripts and my social security number if you need that as well."
"That's not funny."
He laughs and leans down right beside me on his side. "It is, actually. It's pretty fucking funny. I mean, did you care about my name while I was licking your pussy last night? Because when I was doing that…I didn't care about a single thing other than the way you tasted."
I die a little at the memory, and when I stare up at him, I notice he doesn't even look fazed. He still looks like the easy man from last night. Like he doesn't even have a care in the world. I wonder for just a minute what that must feel like.
"Do you know what you tasted like, Bella?" he asks, his voice low as he presses in closer.
"No."
"Like sex on the beach," he breathes. "And I want to taste you again. And next time, you can say my name."
He makes it seem like it would be so effortless, like I could just do this.
"I'm only here for a week," I offer lamely, knowing as I say it how stupid it sounds.
He doesn't seem to listen, or even care about the weak argument I've offered up. He just leans down and kisses me. As wind brushes over us, and the waves collide against the shore only to be taken back out to sea, I let him.
"Then we should make it a good one, beautiful girl."
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See you soon!
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