A/N: This is a continuation of the previous chapter. Also, there's a 99.9% chance that there won't be an update tomorrow. It's our home tournament for hurling, which lasts all day and is extremely fun and extremely exhausting in a good way. And then there's the after party, which is a whole different story. LOL. If you've never heard of hurling, search YouTube for hurling, and watch the video called "The Fastest Game on Grass." I love playing. It's a blast. Wish me luck! But don't say "break a leg," because it's going to be rainy and the grass and ball and hurleys will be slippery, and I've already broken a finger, so I'd rather not break a leg. ;) Sorry for the long note! On with the show...

April 19, 1996

I rest my forehead against your chest while you catch your breath, covertly wiping my hand on the leg of my jeans.

"Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"That was…"

I raise my head to look at you, finding a tiny smile on your lips. "Good?"

"Yeah."

I kiss your smile, and you turn to your side to face me. You palm me over my jeans, but I jerk my hips back.

"I wouldn't." I close my eyes against my slight embarrassment over how turned on I am.

"Why not?"

"It'll be over in about four seconds."

"I don't mind. I want to." Your momentary shyness is long gone. "I've never seen one."

"No?"

"Unless a drawing in a health book counts."

"I'd say it doesn't."

"Your heart is racing," you say when you put a hand to my chest.

It is. The words are on the tip of my tongue. "I want to tell you something, but I don't want to say it in the—"

"You love me?"

There's no denying it now. "Well…yeah."

"I know. I love you, too."

"Bella." I laugh and shake my head at your ability to just say whatever's in your head. "God, I love everything about you."

"Good." You kiss me and reach for my belt buckle. "Will you let me?"

"You trying to steal my virtue?" I mumble against your lips.

"I think we left virtue behind like half an hour ago." You don't wait for an answer, undoing my jeans with one hand and pushing my t-shirt up with the other.

I don't stop you, because I really do want your hands on me. But I meant what I said about the four seconds. Sure, I've done this dozens of times, but I've never felt for anyone else anything close to what I feel for you. As I pull my shirt over my head, you tug my jeans and boxers down just enough and sit back on your knees to stare.

You're too quiet. I can't read whatever expressions cross your face. Tentatively, you reach out and ghost one finger down my length, then back up again, drawing a circle around the tip.

"Jesus, Bella," I breathe.

"It's bigger than I thought it would be."

My exhale is a laugh, but my face turns hot. "Thanks, I think?"

You take me in your hand. "And harder. And heavier." The light touch on my sensitive skin is almost unbearable. Mostly because it's you touching me.

"You're killing me here."

"Sorry. Show me?"

Wrapping my hand around yours, I tighten the grip and guide your fist up and down slowly.

"I wasn't exaggerating, Bella. This won't last long."

"It's okay." You press a kiss to my naked chest. I let go when you catch on to the rhythm, and you hover over me on your knees to bite my lip and then kiss it, too. Your dress is still unbuttoned, hanging open, and my eyes wander over curves and planes.

"Fuck." My whole body shakes as I thrust into your fist. You look down, and instead of closing my eyes like I usually do, I watch you watching me come. Your eyes are wide and your lips are parted. When it's over, I realize you're not sure when to stop. Your movements have slowed, but you're still pumping me. I shudder and reach down to take your hand. "Too sensitive."

"Oh! Sorry. I don't—"

"It's okay." With my hand on the nape of your neck, I pull you down for a long, slow kiss.

"That's…a lot," you say with a grin. "More than I thought it would be."

My laugh is loud, and for the zillionth time, your blunt words make me crazy. I reach for my t-shirt and hand it to you, but you shake your head.

"I'll just go wash my hands."

I nod and use the shirt to clean up, tossing it into my laundry hamper when I'm done, then cover my eyes with my arm. My dick is still buzzing from the feel of your hand on me. When you come back, your dress is buttoned again, and your hair is combed. You snuggle against my side.

You're staring at it again.

"You can…" I trail off.

Your touch is feather-light, and I close my eyes and just feel, trying to keep my breathing even.

You trace a path, exploring slowly. "It's soft."

"It won't be for much longer if you keep doing that."

You laugh and lie down next to me, nuzzling my neck, and I kiss the top of your head and tug my jeans up so neither one of us is tempted.

"I love you," you say again.

"I know," I say, copying your words through a grin. "I love you, too."