Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I just borrowed the names. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization. ©2010 SwedenSara. All rights reserved worldwide.

Thank you JillM12 and netracullen, my betas on this chapter! I apprechiate you so much. Thanks to Lulu M for advice on commas.

Small Steps and Gentle Touches

I get home from the party, quickly wash my face, kiss my sleeping kids, undress and fall into the bed. Edward is sound asleep, snoring lightly. I nudge him to make him stop. That sound can keep me awake for hours. He shifts his position, and the snoring stops. I snuggle under the duvet, curling up into fetal position. I think about Jake; it comforts me, and I drift off into a dreamless sleep.

The following week is uneventful, both at work and at home. I receive an e-mail from Jake, telling me he is thinking of me and wishing me good luck with my issues. He offers to give me a few names if I ever decide to talk to a professional therapist. I reply, thanking him for being such a good friend and adding that I have to think about the therapist part. I like to figure things out on my own, and this is no exception.

When Friday arrives, Edward and I make a nice dinner, drink a glass of wine and take the kids for a walk afterwards. The sun hasn't set yet, and the air is still warm. The kids are running ahead, picking flowers, weird looking sticks and pretty stones, then running back and enthusiastically showing them to us. We laugh at the kids, talk about our week, and I tell him I met Jake at the party. Not once has Edward been jealous because of Jake, which is kind of astonishing when I think of it. I ask him about that, and he explains, telling me it is no big deal at all. Edward has never felt threatened by the relationship between Jake and I. He knows how important Jake has been to me, and hearing I had the opportunity to spend an entire night talking to Jake, makes him happy for me. I can't help but wonder if I would show Edward the same courtesy if he had a lady friend of importance. I'm not sure.

It's time for the kids to go to bed when we get back home; they are tired from the walk. Edward takes care of Benjamin, brushing his teeth and putting him to bed while I read a book to Kate. It's nice to put only one of the kids to bed, both Kate and I are calmer and happier, and saying good night is cosy and sweet. Putting them both to bed always makes me frustrated, because the tooth brush fight with Benji isn't a nice experience. I'm grateful that Edward did that tonight, and I decide it's my turn to put Benji to bed tomorrow.

When the kids are asleep, we spend some time watching TV together, sitting on different ends of the couch. We have the fortune of catching a show with Jeff Dunham and "Achmed, the Dead Terrorist" which is hilarious. Afterwards we watch it again on YouTube, and it keeps us laughing for quite some time.

x.x.x

It has been a good night, the best in a long time. The wine, the walk and the laughter is taking its toll, and I start to feel tired. I tell Edward good night, and go to bed. While I lie there in the darkness, I begin to feel a little lonely. Surprisingly enough, I actually want Edward's company in bed. This hasn't happened in a long time, and it makes me happy and nervous at the same time. Walking out there and asking him to join me should be easy, yet I stay in bed, my mind going back and forth. I want his company, but I'm afraid he'll misread my invitation and want sex, and that will lead to me turning him down again.

I sit up in bed, turn on the small lamp in the window, and put my feet on the floor.

I have to do this.

I rise and walk to the bedroom door. Before I reach the handle, I freeze and slowly turn around and head back to my bed.

I can't.

I stand by the bed, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. My breathing has increased, and my heart is racing. This shouldn't be hard at all, I know that. I scold myself for being such a pansy. I have to try again.

I walk to the door again, and I'm able to open it this time. I peek out, watching Edward sitting by his computer. All it takes now is a few words, and the first part is done. As I open my mouth, nothing comes out. It's like I've lost my ability to speak. When I realize Edward has heard me open the door and is watching me, I hurry across the hallway to the bathroom, pretending I have to pee. I sit down on the toilet, waiting a minute or two before I rustle some paper, toss it in the bowl and flush it down.

This is so stupid.

I walk back to the bedroom, sneaking a peek at Edward. He is hunched over the computer keyboard, playing one of his strategic PC games. I think it is called "Colonization." Apparently he likes it, since he plays it several times a week.

I need a pep talk to be able to do this. It is late, and I have no one to call. The only person who knows about this is Jake, but I can't call him at this hour. Leah would probably kill him if I called him at all, whatever the time. I lie back on my bed, trying to recall our last night together at the party. I close my eyes and will him to emerge in my memory, pretending to be back there in the garden with him. I pretend to feel his hands touching me, and his voice soothing me. Jake is talking to me again, in my mind.

"… Just take small steps, Bella…"

"… maybe it's easier if you touch him…"

I open my eyes instantly. I know what I have to do now. I rise again for the third time to try to open the bedroom door. My heart is beginning to pound, but I decide to ignore it.

Third time's the charm.

I walk up to him, and pat him on his shoulder. He has his earphones in, and he jumps at my touch, not having heard me.

"What's wrong, Bella?" he asks me nervously.

"Uhm, nothing, I just…" my voice trails off.

I can do this. I have to.

I clear my throat and continue. "I was just wondering if you were coming to bed soon." The words spill quickly out of my mouth, as if they would get stuck if I didn't rush them.

He looks at me with a strange expression, and I can almost see the wheels turning inside of his brain.

He has no idea how to interpret this.

"I can come to bed right now, if you'd like me too. Should I?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, if you like… I mean, maybe you're busy…" I motion to the computer and the game he's been occupied with.

"Okay, just give me a few minutes, Bella. I'll be right there." He quickly turns off the PC and heads to the bathroom. I slide under the duvet as I hear him brush his teeth. A few minutes later, he appears in the doorway. After taking his clothes off, he sits on the bed, running his hand through his hair as he always does when he's nervous or agitated.

Is he nervous? Well, that makes two of us.

He lies down in the bed, under the duvet, on his back as usual. He stares at the ceiling, apparently not sure what to do or say.

So, Bella, what did you plan to do now? Just let him lie there, or what?I hear Jake's voice in my mind, pushing me.

No, I wasn't planning on that. I planned on… What did I plan, again?

I have no idea. I haven't really thought this through. I didn't consider what I should do if I actually got him to bed.

Maybe that's because you didn't really think you'd have the balls to do this? Jake is back inside of my head again.

Oh, shut up, you.

I turn to lie on my side, facing Edward. He's waiting for me to speak, which makes sense since I'm the one who asked him to bed. He slowly turns his head and watches me patiently.

I brace myself and ask the question.

"Can I touch you?" I wait breathlessly for his answer.

He exhales loudly. I haven't even noticed he is holding his breath.

"Do you want to? Because if you do, that's okay," he says.

I take a deep breath, raise my hand and then stop. My breath is increasing again, and I feel a familiar ache in my chest as my abdominal muscles start to constrict.

Something is wrong. I feel uncomfortable. I need smaller steps.

I realize he's watching me; those vibrant green eyes are following my every move. I don't want him to watch for several reasons. I feel uncomfortable, and I don't want him to watch if this doesn't work out. I don't want him to see my struggle, but most of all, I don't want him to see me fail. I'm still not sure if I can do this.

I close my eyes and will myself to speak.

"Can you close your eyes? I just want to try one thing."

He abides, and just lies there. He's got one arm under his head; the other arm, the one closest to me, is casually lying alongside of his body. The rest of his body is covered with the duvet, and I move to slide it off of him. I bring it down to the brim of his underwear, stopping there.

Small steps, Bella. Small steps.

I close my eyes to gain courage.

"Just… don't move. Lay very still," I whisper while I sit up, crossing my legs underneath me.

I open my eyes and let them fall on my husbands face, as if I'm seeing it for the first time. I look at his closed eyes, at his long dark lashes. I look at his nose; it has a small bump on it. It reminds me of the nose of some Greek statue.

His cheeks have light stubble on it, and I realize he hasn't shaved in a couple of days. I let my eyes follow his jaw line. It is strong and manly, and I suddenly have the urge to touch. I lean forward and touch him lightly, tracing his jaw with my fingertips. His scruff is tickling the back of my hand as I stroke his cheek.

I sit back again, watching him. I've avoided looking at him for so long, that I've forgotten what he looks like naked. I scoot closer to him; my knees are almost touching his arm. I run my hands along his throat, over his Adams apple, down to the small void where his collarbones meet. My thumb fits right in there. I've never noticed that before. I slide my fingers along his jugular vein and continue down to his chest. I let my hand rest above his heart, close my eyes and concentrate on what I feel.

I feel his heart beating; its pace is increasing slightly. His skin feels soft and warm, and my hand recognizes the sensation from caressing the kids. It's the feeling of touching another human being. I let my hand wander further down, my eyes still closed. His chest hair tickles me softly inside of my palm, and I feel his nipple harden as I stroke his chest. This reaction startles me, and I quickly take my hand off him.

I open my eyes, but the response of his body seems to be involuntary since I see no other sign of desire in his body. I close my eyes again and let my hands explore him further: his shoulders, his upper arm, the soft hair on his lower arm. My fingers trace his fingers, and I remember the feeling of holding his hands.

I lie down on my side, my elbow on the pillow and my head in my hand. The other hand is finding its way back to his body, resting for a while on his chest. I concentrate again on the feeling of his skin. He is always warmer than me, and I let the warmth spread from his skin, through my hand and my arm, to my heart. I skim over his chest, stroking my hand down to his stomach. He's got some hair there as well, and I follow the happy trail of soft, golden tiny curls leading south, down to…

I abruptly stop.

He turns his head, and watches me softly.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper with tears in my eyes. My hand is hovering in the air above his pubic bone.

"Oh, honey, don't be. I'm not," he whispers back.

"You're not?" I watch him incredulously. I stopped touching him just when I was about to reach his sex. He surely must be disappointed in me.

He raises his hand and touches mine. "No Bella, you've made me very happy."

A/N Watch Jeff Dunham and "Achmed, the Dead Terrorist" here: http://www (dot) youtube (dot) com/watch?v=1uwOL4rB-go