EPOV

As the last of her guests leave, she's already leading me up the stairs, her pinkie finger wrapped around mine as she takes the steps ahead of me. The wooden stairs creak and protest under our feet, the noise loud in her quiet apartment. It's dark and still, save for the sound of our steps and the light from the Christmas tree in the corner. At the top of the staircase, I tug on her fingers, turning her around until she's facing me, or rather, her chest is.

"Impatient," she chides with a smirk as I reach up to kiss her. I think I've kissed all of her lipstick off. It's just the stain of red left behind; tinting her lips a perfect dark pink.

"Always."

"Come on then."

Her bedroom is at one end of the hall, and she pulls me down the darkened passage, kicking the door open behind her. Just like downstairs, her room is filled with twinkle lights, except these aren't Christmas decorations just tiny white lights. The walls are covered with art, and there's a huge pin board laden with band posters and ticket stubs above her desk. It's not neat, but it's far from a mess; her floor is scattered with clothes and sketch books, and a pair of black boots lies beside her bed.

"Nice bedroom."

"Thanks."

I pick up some sketches off her desk. Vibrant color, precision lines and perfect script with swooping flourishes splash across the thick sketchpad paper. They're amazing. "These are cool. Are they for work?"

She stands, taking the sketches from my hand and putting them back on the desk. "Yeah. You know, for someone about to get very lucky, you're extremely talkative. Do you ever shut up?"

"I'm not normally like this. I think…" She pulls the zipper of my hoodie down slowly, the teeth making a slow, clicking noise. "I think it's you."

Bella watches as I shrug my jacket off, draping it over her desk chair. "I think you're just a weird guy, Ed."

"You like that though."

Chuckling, she pulls me closer by my belt loops. "I do. I don't know why, but I do."

She starts to take her t-shirt off, but I stop her, my hands covering hers. "Can I?"

In answer, she lifts her arms over her head and slowly, I inch the thin white cotton upwards. Her head slips through, and then her arms, until finally she's free of it. Her skin is so pale it's almost translucent in the dim light, making the artwork that adorns her delicate chest look startlingly vivid and bright.

My finger taps the bony spot on her sternum gently. "Is this number two?"

She nods, watching my eyes as I skim my finger over her collarbone, tracing the pink and green roses that decorate her chest, winding all the way from the tips of her shoulders to skim the top of her breasts. It's actually really fucking pretty, and girly, and for some reason, totally suits her. Holding her black-bra covered breasts in my hand, my thumbs skim the ink as it dips into the valley between them. If I thought she was perfect with her clothes on, she's even more so without them. She's not covered in fake tan or bronzer, she doesn't smell like coconut or some other sweet body lotion, and her tits are soft and pliant in my hands, and just the right size.

Pressing her chest into my hands, Bella leans forward to kiss me, her hands slipping into the hair at the nape of my neck.

"You going to look for the others?" she asks, her mouth so close to mine, so warm, so pretty.

"I've been thinking about doing that since I walked in."

Smirking, she tugs me forward by the scruff of my shirt until the back of her legs hit the bed. She's not quite as gentle as she lifts my shirt over my head, and when I reach back to grab the collar behind my head and pull it off, she just stands there, staring at my bare chest.

Short, red-painted nails walk up the middle of my chest as she looks up at me, shaking her head just a little. "So clean and pretty, and kind of perfect."

With a smirk of my own, I push her backwards gently, until she's sitting on the bed. "Move back a bit."

Slipping her little black shoes off, she slides backwards over her comforter until her feet are dangling on either side of my knees.

"Let's have a look then." Leaning on one knee beside her, I bend to press a kiss to the color splashed across her chest.

"One."

I can feel her chest rising and falling under my lips; almost hear the breath whooshing in and out of her lungs. Retracing their earlier path, my fingertips dance down her right arm, her skin pebbling with little goosebumps as they reach her inner elbow.

I place a kiss on the bright blue bird. "Two."

Her hands wind into my hair as I explore the soft skin of her abdomen, smiling as the muscles twitch and flex under her skin. The ink on her side is big, the peacock covering the skin over her ribs, all the way from her bra, over her side, until its tail disappears over the curve of her hip and lower back. The greens and blues of the plumage are interspersed with reds and pinks, even splashes of yellow. I like it, but the thought of someone – most likely that Jake fucker – touching her here, makes me irrationally pissy.

She shudders beneath me as I kiss her side, squeaking as my teeth close around the skin. "That's three."