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Nineteen

Saint Teresa of Avila: Upon whom the Roman sculpture the Ecstasy of Saint Teresa is based. She had visions in which a seraph, or angel appeared to her… "I saw in his hand a long spear of gold, and at the iron's point there seemed to be a little fire. He appeared to me to be thrusting it at times into my heart, and to pierce my very entrails; when he drew it out, he seemed to draw them out also, and to leave me all on fire with a great love of God. The pain was so great, that it made me moan; and yet so surpassing was the sweetness of this excessive pain, that I could not wish to be rid of it…"

His laughter was sharp and exasperated. Amid my panic, confusion, and guilt, I felt a glimmer of relief that even now, I could amuse him.

"Where should I have been?" he asked, managing, as always, to deflect my question. "You now expect me to rescue you?"

"No!" I cried, turning in the seat to face him. "But you have a very strange way of showing up—whether I need rescuing or not!" I was still breathless, my pulse throbbing in my throat, my back damp with sweat. I pushed away the thought of what might have happened had Edward Masen not appeared.

"Do you attract danger?" The question seemed to be to the universe at large but I still took offense, my hands clenching in my lap.

"Right! It's my fault they were stalking me—"

Then I realized he wasn't only talking about this moment. It all came rushing back…the punctured gas tank and being stranded alone in the woods…the false tip to the police that might have landed me in jail…and who knew what more might have occurred without my knowledge? "What do you mean?" I finally breathed.

He was silent, his lips a thin line, his knuckles white around the steering wheel of the car. "What is going on, Edward?" I intended the question to be a demand but it somehow came out quiet and undeniably frightened.

He finally spoke, refusing to pull his eyes from the empty road. "I…can't tell you."

My sharp inhale was involuntary. I knew I shouldn't be hurt that he continued to see me as a rival. But given my own earlier ephipany, I couldn't help the acute feeling of disappointment that, despite everything, he continued to leave me in the dark.

Edward glanced toward me, sensing my reaction. I quickly closed my eyes and dropped my chin, allowing my hair to fall forward and curtain my face. I didn't want him to see any pain in my expression, my breath coming in pants as I processed how foolish I'd been. How could I ever have thought his interest might mirror my own?

I was an idiot to think this had ever been more than a game to him, to have fallen for his trap of distraction and misdirection. Between the strain of searching for the monk and his likely nonexistant book, the danger that was mysteriously accompanying the search, and the confusion of my rival toying with me, it was no wonder I'd become an emotional wreck. That had probably been Edward's intention all along. I could feel tears pricking behind my lids and vowed to dive from the car the moment we reached my hotel.

Then Edward set my hopes soaring again with his next words. "I've been trying…to help." His voice was soft, pleading.

My eyes flew open to find him glancing towards me, his expression earnest. I realized I couldn't breathe, trying with all of my heart not to read too much into the words, into his demeanor, into anything. I didn't want to hope.

I forced my gaze away from his face, desperate for my racing heart to slow, for a quiet moment to get my thoughts straight. As I thought over the past day, I knew I would get no such moment. Taking a deep breath, I finally replied. "I believe you."

It now seemed Edward was holding his breath, his hands twisting around the wheel. I didn't think I'd ever seen him look so shaken, his features pale even in the gloom of the car. I longed to reach toward him and touch the skin where the cuff of his shirt exposed his wrist. His next words dragged me from this fantasy.

"This is so wrong," he groaned.

A sudden feeling of desperation gripped me. Had I misunderstood everything? I felt as if I was on a pendulum, swinging back and forth between wild, ridiculous hope and sinking, terrible despair. The emotion was evident in my voice when I spoke, "What do you mean?"

He paused before finally responding, "I shouldn't even be talking to you." The words were quiet but I felt as if they were daggers, my heart clenching at their meaning. We had pulled up to my hotel, the engine still rumbling. I abandoned the thought of a quick escape, no longer able to walk away.

It was simply too much. With adrenaline, fear, and the tatters of hope still pounding through my veins, I knew I could no longer hold it together. The words burst from my lips without thought, "You're just realizing that now?" As if from a distance, I knew I was approaching hysteria, the words dripping with unfettered fury. "How dare you?"

I had twisted in my seat to face him, the blood pulsing in my cheeks. I could feel my nails digging into my palms, barely able to restrain myself from smacking him. "I didn't seek you out! I didn't follow you! I didn't start this!" I knew I was losing it, angry tears welling in my eyes, blinding me to his unfathomable expression.

It could have been the mob of fraternity brothers nearly attacking me…it could have been the mysterious danger that hung over my head like a scythe…or this breaking point could have been due to the fact that he had probably already found the Golden Legend…and I didn't know if I cared anymore. "You sought me out!" I cried.

Edward broke in, his voice equally desperate. "I was tired of trying to stay away from you."

Eyes wide, I sucked in a breath, unable to believe his audacity. I fumbled for the handle and slammed out of the car, unwilling to be his pawn any longer. Jasper and I were so close and he'd now unhinged me to the point that I didn't know if our search even mattered anymore!

The slam of his car door echoed my own, filling me with greater desperation. How could I no longer care whether we found the book? What had he done to me?

"Bella! Wait!"

I sped up the shallow steps to the entrance of the hotel, stumbling as I reached the door. Luckily, I caught myself on the knob and only half fell into the lobby, regaining my balance before I hit the floor. "Please!" he called. "Wait!"

I refused to be swayed by the sincerity in his voice, diving through the lobby, grateful the receptionist wasn't present to bear witness to this insanity. Close, far too close, I heard him swear behind me. "Goddamnit!"

Somewhere, beyond the panic and fury, I felt a flare of satisfaction at his anger. Our interactions had been far too unbalanced and I was glad to have made him as frustrated as he'd made me. Perhaps this was my undoing, glancing over my shoulder to see if he looked as mad as he sounded. My toe caught on the first step of the staircase leading up to the second floor and I was flying forward, my momentum too great to even throw my arms out.

In a corner of my mind, I realized this fall was going to leave terrible bruises.

I jerked through the air, my feet nearly flying from beneath me, as a warm hand wrapped around my forearm. Unfortunately, Edward was still moving forward with the force of his own momentum, his body crashing into mine a split second later. The stairs were flying towards me again before the world twisted, the dim lobby swinging into view as Edward spun to cushion our fall.

I was gasping, my heart in my throat, unable to breathe with the warmth of him all around me, his chest firm against my back. I felt blood rushing to my cheeks as his hands moved over my arms, my shoulders, as if checking for broken bones. "Stop doing this," I heard myself beg, struggling to free myself from his grasp.

His voice was rough against my ear. "I can't."

I slapped at his hands, blinking back tears, writhing, straining to get away from him. I hated him for what I'd become, for the uncertainty he made me feel, for how, even now, I didn't want him to go.

Edward easily caught my hands, his grasp gentle as he shifted his weight, pushing us both away from our sprawl on the stairs. Though he still had a firm grasp on me, I felt myself waver the moment I gained my feet, light-headed and blind with the tears I refused to shed. I instantly felt his arms wrap around me. "No," I murmured against his chest, weakly shoving against his shoulders.

"I'm tired of trying to stay away from you," he quietly repeated, the words a caress, before his lips found mine.

The touch of his mouth dissolved the last tendrils of my resistance, my eyes sinking shut at the sensation. Without thinking, I pressed into him, sighing against his lips as he pulled me even closer…then gasping as he took advantage of the motion, his tongue seeking the wetness of my mouth. I felt him hesitate at my surprise and instantly wrapped my arms around his neck, straining on my tip toes. I couldn't let him stop kissing me.

The groan he uttered against my mouth was a mixture of resignation and exultation, as though he too knew this was wrong…but was unable to do anything other than take pleasure in yielding to what he wanted. Before I knew what was happening, he'd bent, sweeping my legs from beneath me, my body cradled to his chest. His lips were in my hair as he swiftly climbed the stairs, his voice soft as he asked, "Where is your room?"

I could only nod towards the end of the hall, my eyes wide as it began to sink in that I wasn't dreaming. I clung to him as he maneuvered through the door, knowing there must be a point when he would realize what he was doing, that he couldn't take the charade this far. I looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes as he lowered me to the bed, certain I would find hesitation or, worse, rejection there. But I saw only intensity and hunger in his gaze, his mouth falling to mine, his body pressing me into the bed.

"Edward," I whispered as his mouth slid down my throat, his lips soft against my collarbone, his breath warm against my skin. It felt like I'd wanted this forever, my hands fisting in his shirt, dragging at the fabric, pulling it loose from his trousers.

"Bella…" His voice held the same longing and satisfaction, his lips only leaving my skin to pull my shirt over my head before hungrily falling to the swell of my breast. I couldn't help gasping at the sensation, my hands tangling in his hair. I felt too hot, my skin on fire as his hands roved over my ribs, pulling at the cotton of my simple bra, revealing the pale pink of my nipple to the gloom of the hotel room.

"Edward?" His lips closed over the nub, suckling until the flesh was a hardened peak. I arched my back to his touch, only wanting more. "Please…" His mouth crossed the snowy flesh of my breasts, finding the other nipple, his lips tender and firm all at once. Sounds I'd never made before were coming from my mouth, a mixture of pleas and panting breaths, my hands scrambling at his shoulders.

I arched higher, straining to his touch, a faint smile crossing my lips at the groan that issued from his throat in response. I felt him pull away and my eyes flew open, suddenly cold, certain the reality of what he was doing must have sunk in. But he was only leaning back, angrily tugging at his shirt, a button pinging across the room and landing somewhere in the darkness. I reached for him before he'd fully shrugged it away, sighing at the sensation of his skin, dying inside when his mouth closed over mine again.

Edward's kisses were ravishing and insistent, his hands growing more determined as they ranged over my skin, tearing away my bra, jerking at the fly on my jeans. I met his desire as equally as I could, fumbling at the buttons on his pants, raining kisses down his throat. I marveled at the sweet salty taste of him, still not quite able to believe I wasn't dreaming.

Then his hands were in my hair, thumbs against my temples, his naked body pressing into mine. I was breathing hard, my own hands fisting in the rumpled duvet beneath me, forcing myself to accept this was happening-that in the semi-darkness of a hotel room in the southern Czech Republic, Edward Masen was gazing down at me as if I was the only person on earth.

I could feel his hands trembling in my hair against my scalp before he was pushing into me. I sucked in a breath, my eyes instinctively closing until he spoke, his voice hoarse. "Open your eyes." I did as he commanded, meeting his gaze, lips parted at the full, impossible feeling of him. His expression was ever unfathomable but for a slight strain around his eyes.

"Edward." His name was a plea, my hands pressing into his back, pushing him deeper, my hips rising from the bed, wanting him impossibly closer.

"Fuck," he swore, the word harsh. His hands tightened in my hair, his mouth crashing to mine. His hips mimicked the motion, pumping into mine. I was distantly aware of the headboard banging into the wall with the force of his movements. I tried to meet him, pressing my feet into the mattress, then gasping as he hooked an arm under my knee, pushing my leg to my chest. He sank impossibly deeper into me, a cry breaking from my throat at the sensation.

"Oh my God!" I grasped at him, frantic, certain I was going to explode. He was relentless, his hips rhythmic, his breath coming in urgent pants against my cheek. I buried my face in his throat as incredible shudders seized me, my muscles losing all control.

"Bella!" His shudder followed my own, his hips driving into me once, twice, before he was still.

The sudden quiet, but for our panting breaths, was shocking. I imagined this was what a crash landing must feel like—as if I'd been braced for impact and now that the world had righted itself, logic and motor control returned with jarring swiftness. I sucked in a shocked breath, trying to process the fact that the naked body slick with sweat on top of me was Edward Masen.

"Oh my—"

But his mouth was on mine, swallowing the words, his lips gentle but firm. "Don't," he said shortly. I could only stare up at him with wide eyes, the planes of his features shadowed but distinct in the gloom. He pushed away from me, climbing off the bed and confidently heading towards the only other door in the room. I lay still, staring up at the ceiling mutely as I heard the click of the light and running water in the bathroom.

My mind was frozen, unable to question what had just happened—what was still happening—since he had just ordered me not to. But the alternative of enjoying the fact that Edward Masen had just screwed my brains out felt equally impossible. His voice called from the bathroom, "Are you coming?"

I stiffly rose from the bed, trying to connect the dots—how, exactly, we had ended up here—as I crossed to the bathroom. My mind replayed the flight from his car, through the lobby, nearly tripping…and he had rescued me, yet again. He'd probably saved me from breaking something by catching me before I fell into the stairs.

"What are you thinking?" He was standing beneath the spray of the shower, his figure indistinct in the steam that had already built in the small room.

"I…" I crossed my arms over my chest self-consciously, remembering that I was naked. He chuckled at the motion.

"Get in here." I mutely obyed, stepping over the lip of the tub into the steam. I didn't realize how stiff and awkward my stance until he abruptly pulled my close, embracing me beneath the spray of water. "You looked quite perplexed when you walked through the door."

"This isn't perplexing to you?" I mumbled against his chest, unable to meet his eyes.

Edward didn't respond, simply planting a kiss against my temple. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to forget who he was, who I was, and why we both happened to be in Český Krumlov of all places. I let the hot water beat down against my skin, sighing when Edward began soaping my back, my arms, surprising myself by laughing when he soaped my breasts for far longer than necessary.

"I think they're clean," I was blushing but also strangely gratified that he was fixated on any part of me.

"I'm not so sure," he smirked down at me before planting a smacking kiss on my mouth. Even beneath the jets of the shower, his hair was wild, sticking out in all directions. I allowed myself to pat at it, trying to smooth it down, focusing my attention on the darting cowlicks rather than his face…I'd feel too much confusion if I met his gaze.

"Even my mother couldn't get it to behave." My eyes flew to his face at his words, recalling what I'd read online about his parents…and what little he'd told me. But his expression was easy, a smile playing around his lips.

"Maybe with gel…?" I mused. He made a disgusted face that brought a burst of laughter from my throat. I frowned almost instantly after, unable to understand why it was so easy to be with him.

"I wish I knew what you were thinking," he sighed before bending to turn off the water. I couldn't help admiring the muscles visible in his back and the width of his shoulders, all glistening with water. When he straightened, his expression shifted, recognizing for once exactly what was on my mind. I flushed and looked down, embarrassed to be caught so obviously ogling him. Then I shrieked as the world flew from beneath me, his arms sweeping under my legs and shoulders, cradling me to his chest.

"I can walk, you know," I protested.

"I don't want to give you time to think," he replied, before he was lowering me to the bed, his lips insistent upon mine.

Amazing, detailed shots of Bernini's Ecstasy of Saint Teresa here: http:/sexualityinart(dot)wordpress(dot)com/2009/08/28/berninis-portrayal-of-the-ecstasy-of-saint-theresa/