A/N: Good morning!

Bella was in the middle of speaking to a pair of residents about a case—a baby with hydrocephalus who'd had nine surgeries in his eighteen months of life—when she felt a buzz at her hip. This, of course, was typical. There were any number of reasons any doctor was at the beck and call of a hundred different people who might have questions for them. So, Bella didn't miss a beat in her explanation as she pulled her phone out of her pocket to glance at it.

"As is not atypical for these types of patients, in his last surgery, the ETV was performed in conjunction with a CPC, a choroid plexus cauterization, and..."

The name on the text had distracted her.

Edward.

At the sight of his name, a thrill of excitement raced through her and a rush of manic glee tugged her lips upward. She swiped at the message without thinking, eager to know what it said.

"Good news, Dr. Swan-Black?" one of the residents asked.

"Oh." Bella snapped her head up before she could read the message, realizing only then that she'd stopped talking mid-sentence. "Um, yes. Good news. Good news about a patient." She could feel her cheeks heat. "As I was saying, a CPC was performed due to…"

Where she'd been speaking in clear, concise sentences before the text, now she began to stumble over her words. While she was used to thinking of many things at once while still holding a conversation or barking orders in the OR, Bella was somehow thrown by an intense curiosity. She was dying to know what Edward had texted her.

Stuttering a quick goodbye to the now bewildered residents, Bella beat a hasty retreat. She hurried down the hallway, and the moment she was out of sight, she ducked into the nearest darkened room, needing to be alone to regroup. Leaning against the wall, Bella grit her teeth, stubbornly ignoring the voice in her head urging her to look at the message.

Juvenile, she chastised herself. For fuck's sake, she'd gone all twitterpated. Even now giddy restlessness vibrated through her. Her skin felt electric, as though Edward were there in the room with her, leaning down to whisper his message in her ear.

Ridiculous, she thought. She was a busy doctor, not a moon-eyed teenager; she needed to act like it. There was every possibility a life could depend on her concentration at any moment.

But...that wasn't the case at this particular moment.

Giving in to her inner giggling teenager, Bella dug her phone out of her pocket again. She bit her bottom lip, ignoring the thrills that ran down her spine as she brought up his message.

Edward: You are exactly my brand of heroin.

Bella rolled her eyes, but she had to bite her lip harder to keep from grinning like a fool. She could guess where this was going. On a chemical level, this head-over-heels thing they had going on lately was on par with what happened to the brain when you did a hit of cocaine or heroin.

It was an apt description. What she was feeling was like an addiction—incessant, loud, and consuming, as though the priority centers of her brain had been reprogrammed to put Edward and all Edward-related activity right at the top. It was annoying, but it was also wonderful in a weird, unexpected way. Like there was the rest of the world, and then there was this bright bubble that existed only for them.

Bella: You're right. Being addicted to actual heroin might be worse than being in love with you.

She watched the bouncing dots at the bottom of the screen, way too eager as he typed his reply.

Edward: Perspective is everything. How's your day going, gorgeous?

Why the endearment made her breathless Bella couldn't even begin to understand. Or maybe it was his question. It had been such a long time since anyone cared how she was doing. Her heart panged. She'd missed that kind of intimacy.

Why him? Her heart twisted with the question she asked herself so many times. She let out a huff of frustration, wishing her head and her heart would get on the same page. Reject him—and all this distracting, annoying, amazing, wonderful head-over-heels nonsense—or give in. Enjoy herself.

Bella: Don't you ever get tired of having to convince me this is what I want?

For a painfully long minute, there was no movement on his end of the phone. Then, the dots began to bounce, and a second later his message came through.

Edward: Often, but that doesn't seem to stop me, my sweet addiction.

Bella chuckled, mostly laughing at herself. Yeah. The fact the man infuriated her as often as he impressed her hadn't stopped how she felt about him. Hell, the thought of him alone had interrupted what would have been an easy, exciting tryst with an internationally known movie star.

If this whole love thing could do her the favor of making sense, she'd be much less pissed off at it.

Considering his first question, Bella hesitated another moment before she tapped out a response.

Bella: It's been a really crappy day, actually. I had an eighteen-month-old patient with severe complications post-op, and my car wouldn't start. I didn't have time to deal with it, so I took an Uber here.

She pushed off the wall then, reminding herself that she had things to do, and lots of paperwork to go along with it.

Before she got far down the hall, her phone buzzed again.

Edward: I can give you a ride tonight, if you'd like.

She smirked, but before she could retort, he sent another text.

Edward: A ride HOME. Where I will drop you off without laying a hand on you or otherwise touching you in an intimate manner.

Edward: Unless you wanted me to touch you that way.

Edward: Or dinner. We could also do that.

Edward: Followed by the touching.

Edward: We can do do both, but we shouldn't do it at the same time. I'm pretty sure that would get us kicked out of the restaurant.

Edward: Then again, there's take-out.

Bella's shoulders shook in silent laughter, and she smiled fondly at the phone.

Bella: Are you done?

Edward: I can be.

He sent a wide smile emoji with his message, and she could almost see his playful grin. It was so strange how she knew him so well, knew his expressions.

Bella: Dinner would be nice, actually.

~0~

By the end of dinner, Bella's stressful day had all but melted away. Edward had let her vent; he'd commiserated, and then, he'd well and thoroughly distracted her with a nerd-tastic debate about the new Star Wars movies.

"Maybe I'm just attached to the now-defunct extended universe of the books because they were my escape in med school," he said. "But regardless, Ben is, and always will be, Luke's son to me. Han and Leia have no reason to name their son Ben. Obi-Wan wasn't their mentor. Han didn't even like him. And don't even get me started on the idea Han and Leia were separated."

Bella rolled her eyes. "Color me surprised. You can't fathom the concept that a no-nonsense leader like Leia might get sick of an arrogant, swaggering space-pirate, huh?"

After dinner, because she wasn't ready to go home yet, she suggested coffee.

And then, she ran out of excuses to be out with him.

It wasn't lost on Bella that when she got out of the car, her usual purposeful stride had dwindled down to a meander as she and Edward made their way to her door. They were stalling. Shewas stalling, and the closer they got to her door, the faster her heartbeat stuttered.

She didn't want the night to end. This space they were in was nice. Warmth went through her veins as he twined their fingers together, holding her hand as they strolled. He made her laugh, telling her a story about his brother. She'd always liked to listen to him. Well, when he wasn't talking down to her. He was charismatic, smart, and engaging.

Yeah, she liked him. She hadn't expected that. Once, when they were in school, she liked him. Liked talking to him. Liked his banter. She'd looked forward to that class. Yeah, he could be annoying, but being his friend was nice.

But then he'd done that thing. That annoying as hell thing guys did where they pretended to want to be your friend when what they really wanted was to get in your pants. And not only had he violated that trust, but he'd insulted Jacob; her husband, her best friend. Jake had never been anything but kind and good to her.

She liked him—this man who'd looked down his nose at her sweet husband. She reallyliked him. Liked spending time with him. Liked the feel of his hand in hers. Liked the little thrill that went down her spine when he ducked his head closer to her as he continued his story and she rummaged through her purse for her keys.

Bella closed her eyes briefly, caught between the giddy rush of smittenness—and she was fucking smitten, much to her annoyance—and the pang of guilt. She'd never wanted to be in love in the first place, but love wasn't a choice. To actually like this arrogant bastard had to be some kind of betrayal.

Love wasn't a choice. She'd always told herself she could walk away from it. But hadn't Jacob guessed where she'd end up?

"You can't run away from him. He's here. You're here. There's nothing either one of us can do about it."

And now here they were. Finally. They were alone, standing too close for friendship. Her hand was on the door, and he was leaning against the jamb, his head tilted down. There was an invitation on her lips, a desire in her gut to tilt her head up and kiss him.

All hells, she wanted to kiss him so badly. It was a heady feeling, a need, a desire so great she was only barely holding on to the willpower to keep herself from leaning in those last scant inches. Desire warred with that voice in her head that screamed why him, why him, why him?

And the quiet, irritatingly calm voice that answered her. Because he was brilliant and interesting. Because he spoke her language. Because he could be kind and compassionate.

Because she loved him.

She closed her eyes, taking a shaky breath and inhaling the scent of him. She heard the rustle of his clothes and almost jumped out of her skin when she felt his warm palm against her cheek.

He sighed, and his voice when he spoke was a quiet murmur. "It's an awful love story, isn't it?"

"Is it?" she asked, not opening her eyes.

"Awful." His fingers brushed up into her hair. His fingertips felt delicious running against her scalp. "I saw, and I was struck by how beautiful you were. Then, I heard you, and you were so smart, so sharp. But you were the wrong girl, and I was the wrong boy." He laughed—a mirthless chuckle. "Bella, what would our lives have been like if I'd been strong enough to walk away when I knew you could never be mine?"

She had wondered more than once what would have happened. If he'd never kissed her at that party, would she have been able to get him out her head?

That was why she still hesitated, despite her fervent desire to kiss him. His first kiss had changed her whole world, her whole self. Such an irrational, ridiculous thought, and yet it was inexplicably true. She'd never been the same since then.

If she kissed him now, she'd be his. To taste him again, after she let him woo her, would be to fall over that cliff she'd been fighting for so long now.

Why did her heart have to want him? So much. So fucking much she ached with it.

His thumb brushed the sweet spot just behind her ear, and she was done. So done fighting. She cupped her hand to the back of his head and brought him down to her. There was a burst of electricity that shot through her body when their lips connected, and Bella whimpered.

It was poetry to kiss him like this. She'd never known a kiss could be poignant, could captivate and resonate like a bell vibrating at the very center of everything she was. It was beautiful, this kiss. Painfully so. Her heart ached as his lips moved on hers.

He made a little noise at the back of his throat, close to a whimper. He felt it too—this ache, this need, this crazy, electric connection. So strong. As his arms wrapped around her, something like relief washed over her. Some tiny voice whispered in her ear. Yes. This. Him.

It was always and forever going to be him. That was why their lips worked like this. Like the sweetest thing she'd ever felt and the hottest. Flames licked along her insides, but it was the best burn. She gripped his jacket, suddenly desperate with the desire to consume him. She opened her mouth to him, taking his tongue inside her. She shivered, drowning in the taste of him.

She broke their kiss with a gasp, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. With a shuddering breath, she tilted her forehead against his.

Shit or get off the pot,she growled at herself internally, and then had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

It was such an ugly thing to think at one of the most romantic moments of her life. But how perfectly them.

This was not a beautiful love story.

She leaned in, kissing him again—a soft, tender thing. Not ugly, though. Frustrating, and maddening and oh, god she felt like she could fly.

On a whim, she slid her hands to his back and then slipped her fingers into his pockets, cupping his ass—damn, he made the prettiest little noises for her—but also palming his wallet. Once she had her hands on it, she yanked it out of his pocket and stepped away.

"What are you—" Edward started but cut off instantly as she pulled a foil wrapped condom out of his wallet. In an instant, his expression became closed and cautious.

"I fucking knew it," she muttered.

He sighed. "You knew what?"

She waved the condom in his face. "That sure of your powers of seduction, are you? This was always what you were after."

"No," he said firmly.

She shook her head, hating the doubting voice that whispered in her ear. "You've wanted me since we were barely more than kids." There wasn't a damn thing she had to be insecure about. If he had to resort to games to get what he wanted, that was his own malfunction and not her problem. "I'm no one's prize. You can keep right on waiting if that's all you want from me."

With that, she turned and pushed the door open. She hadn't gotten two steps before he reached out to stop her. "Bella, no," he said with emphasis, grabbing her arm to pull her back around to him.

Bella yanked her arm out of his grip. "Do you ever fucking learn, asshole? Don't you grab me."

He raised his hands up in a placating gesture. "Listen to me, okay?" He kept his hands raised where she could see them. "I'm not playing any game with you. That doesn't even make sense." His hands still up, he took a step forward and lowered his voice so it was deep and husky. "We both know damn well I could have had you if that was all I wanted."

She opened her mouth to speak, but snapped it shut again just as quickly. He had a point. She'd been the one to jump him, not the other way around.

His eyes holding hers, he lowered his hands and took another step toward her. "We both know where this is going." He ducked his head and skimmed the tip of his nose along hers. "We both know what you want."

"You always think you know what I want," she growled, but it lacked the edge of true irritation. His rumbled words and his nearness wouldn't be ignored. Electricity rocketed through her veins, coiling at her core and pebbling her nipples.

"Tell me I'm wrong." He raised his head to meet her eyes. "But it doesn't matter, Bella. You're everything to me. I don't know how to explain it anymore than you do, but you're everything. If you wanted to wait, I'd wait forever."

Bella bit down hard on her lip. Her hands were resting on his chest, splayed wide so she could feel his heartbeat against her palm. She didn't even know when she'd done that. Her pulse was hectic, but his was too.

Under the chaotic push-pull of a tremendous tide, something inside Bella broke. She was his. As maddening and complicated as that was. But he was hers, and he damn well was going to know it.

Flexing her fingers into fists around his shirt, Bella hauled Edward inside. His gasp gave her tremendous satisfaction, and she didn't give him time to recover before she'd shoved him up against the closed door and kissed him.

As she kissed him, claiming his mouth with her lips and tongue, her hands slid down his body to the button of his pants. Unbuttoning him with a yank, she pulled his zipper down and put her hand to the hot bulge of him.

"Jesus, Bella," he groaned into her mouth as she rubbed him.

She nipped at his lips and dragged her teeth along his cheek up to his ear. "Are you going to tell me no?"

"No." He turned his head to catch her kiss again. "No, I'm not."

Gripping the front of his shirt in her hands again, she hauled him off the door and propelled him down the hallway. "What are you—" But before he could finish his question, she'd tumbled them both to the floor. She'd been aiming for the couch, but her movements were inelegant, caught as she was between a desire that went down to the depths of her soul, and the last dying moments of the simple thing she'd wanted—never to be in love, never to be in over her head like this, and especially never to be in love with this man in particular.

Of course she felt all the soft things too. She felt such a tremendous tenderness, a deep reverence for this awful, wonderful man that she could hardly breathe around it. But now wasn't the time to speak with that voice. There was fire inside her, and fire was nothing if not destructive. She let it consume her, consume them both.

Straddling him, she leaned down, her mouth on his again, kissing him as though he was the air she breathed. His hands and fingers sent delicious tingles through her as he slipped them beneath her shirt, dancing and pressing along her skin. She took his hot, hard length in her hand, stroking him before she slipped the condom on.

Time for exploration later. Time for worship later. They had time, but not now.

Now, having shimmied her pants down enough to get what she needed, Bella raised herself and guided him inside her. There, she paused as they both cried out. Edward's hands squeezed at her waist, hard enough that she felt his fingers dig into her skin, but that was good. She needed the steadiness.

It made her dizzy, the way this felt. She'd always been complete in and of herself. She believed that one and one made two. But this—being connected with him in this way—she had no context for. It was a feeling of wholeness she hadn't known existed.

Balancing herself with her hand cupping the definition of his chest, she began to move on him. Not slow. No, she gave neither of them time to catch their breath but rocked into him, taking him deeper, watching what she felt play out on his face. His breath was ragged, his mouth open like there were words on his lips that kept getting interrupted by a moan or a whimper.

No words. Just the building fire, consuming and burning away all the things she shouldn't have been able to reconcile. She was merciless in the way she rode him, punishing him for all the horrible things he'd said about Jake, for all the times he'd told her the things she wanted for her own life were wrong, that he knew better the things she should want. That she should want him.

She did, and she took him.

And he took her back, thrusting up to meet the rhythm of her hips. His hands cupped her ass, and he cried out as she scraped her fingernails down his chest. Fucking hell, he was hitting that perfect spot inside her, and she could feel the coil of an orgasm building that almost frightened her.

Oh, yeah. She was a freight train about to barrel off a cliff with this one. She could feel it coming; Disaster and deliverance and—

"Bella!" Edward screamed her name, his hands gripping the skin of her ass tight and hard. That jolt of pain brought with it a rush of pleasure that threatened to knock her to the ground. She held on to Edward's shoulders for dear life, a strangled cry rocking through her as her walls tightened around his pulsing cock.

The world went white, then black.

When she could breathe and see again, she found she was collapsed on Edward, curled into him, trembling against him. His breath was ragged near her ear, but his arms were wrapped around her, his hand pressed to her back in a way she found so sweet and comforting.

The world wasn't the same as it had been only minutes before, but that was okay. More than okay, there was this strange, warm sense of wellbeing that washed over her as she lay in his arms, basking in the aftermath of an earth shattering orgasm.

"Good god," he muttered under his breath.

She laughed and ducked her head against his neck, inhaling the musk of man tinged with aftershave. She shuddered. Hell, she liked that too—his smell, his touch, his taste. She liked the visceral experience of him. She was addicted.

She was in love.

When he squirmed a bit, she rolled off him to the side. Her bones still felt more like jelly, but she managed to get them to work well enough to pull her pants back up.

Beside her, Edward hissed, wincing as he reached to take care of the condom. Bella furrowed her brow. "What's wrong?"

He grinned, his hooded sleepy eyes finding hers. He reached up, stroking her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. "I think you gave me rug burn."

Bella sat up. "What? Let me see. Roll over."

If anything, his grin only got wider. "Oh, that's such a line." He curled a tendril of hair around his finger. "You just want to look at my ass."

She rolled her eyes. "Roll over," she said again, her voice more commanding.

"If you insist, Doctor." He flopped onto his belly.

Bella gasped. Sure enough, there were two bright patches of red, one on each of his butt cheeks. She hissed at the raw skin and the tiny patches of blister that were popping up. "Oh, hell. I'm sorry."

He snickered. "Worth it." He craned his head to look at her, his smile turning wicked. "Being manhandled by you was about ninety kinds of hot."

In spite of herself, Bella flushed with pleasure. She shook her head. "Get up. You need treatment. Lie down on the couch, and I'll go get what we need."

"I bet that's not as kinky as it sounds."

"Lie down."

"Yes, ma'am." He snickered, laying his head in his cradled arms as he lay facedown on the couch. "I should have known sex with you would include some kind of injury."

As she went to get the antiseptic and a couple of cold compresses from her freezer, Bella had to laugh too.

A/N: Soooooo.

How you feeling out there?