Undeniable Attraction
1000 reviews! I can't believe it!
THANK YOU to all of you who had taken the time to write me something beautiful, specially those of you who had shared episodes of your own lives with me, I really appreciate it and treasure each one of my reviews.
Here's chapter 21. Thank you so much to my wonderful Betas, Susan and Tammy, for being so helpful and great and beautiful with me. Love you girls!
I hope you enjoy it!
DISCLAIMER: All characters are property of Stephanie Meyer, I just own my imagination, that is quite vast.
Chapter 21
Be Strong
EPOV
"Oh, ok," I flinch a little at the disappointed tone of my voice, but I just can't get rid of it. I wanted to have a nice dinner with my man and have a nice sex session before going to sleep cuddled into his strong, warm body. Is that too much to ask?
"Don't worry, love, I'll be alright dining by myself, and then I'll just go to bed and wait for you," while you go out with your stupid coworkers to drink your ass off, I think bitterly.
"Yeah, sorry Edward, but I really need this, baby. Please understand…"
I hate to hear that pained voice. I do understand Jasper. I understand how this case, just like all the ones before, is draining you; I understand how you are trying to protect me from your bad mood; I understand how you hate to disappoint me… I do understand; I just hate it all.
"Don't worry love. I'll be fine. Have fun, ok?" I try to inflict my voice with as much enthusiasm as I can, but I know I failed miserably with Jasper's defeated sigh at the other end of the line.
"Ok, baby. I- I love you," he whispers before I hear the click of the phone.
I bang my forehead against the wall of the kitchen with the phone still pressed against my cheek. How much I hate this! Why is this so complicated? Why couldn't this, his last case, be just a little bit easier than the last one and be done by now?
I feel like the Holy Grail is just there, mere inches from my grasp, and every time I try to curl my fingers around it, it just gets farther away. I can almost smell the soft, airy scent of freedom, the salty, warm scent of the sea and our first vacation, and every time I feel I can touch it, it disappears. I wonder if we'll ever really be free of it all, free of his awful job, free of his broody mood with every new case, free of his pain and guilt. I wonder if I'll ever even understand it!
I just want to take him far away, somewhere out of this place, away from the real world and his cases, and his work and our fears and ghosts. I just know one place like that, and I smile remembering it. We were free once. We were completely and utterly happy once, like children, innocent, perfect and loving, completely unaware of the shit outside our little, happy world. I'll get him back. I promise I'll get him back.
Just then, the phone startles me when it rings in my hand, and I notice that I'm sitting on the floor, still clutching the phone in one hand and my hair in the other.
"Hello?"
"Edward! Thank God you're there! It was driving me mad when I couldn't reach you! Who were you talking with?"
"A- Alice?" I ask uncertain.
"Of course it's Alice! Who else could it be?"
I actually chuckle at that. Who else indeed? It's like I've known her my whole life, and she was indeed my baby sister. She definitely adapted quickly to the Cullen's.
"Sorry Al, I'm a bit off at the moment. I was talking to Jasper, actually, so if you wanted to talk to him, he's not home," I explain quickly.
I'm startled by the soft gasp I hear at the other side of the line.
"Please, don't tell me Jasper's not home Eddy, please," she begs, and I'm getting scared with the anxiety, if not full panic, in her voice that I can hear from here.
"He's not here, Alice. He went out with some friends of his. Are you all right?"
"Not really Eddy. I have a really bad feeling about Jasper, and now it's driving me crazy remembering how things went the last time I had a bad feeling about him," she rushes her explanation, and I have to take a few seconds to let that sink in. The last time she had a bad feeling about Jasper…
I remember being angry with him for leaving me to check up on Alice, jealous, actually. I remember being in my apartment waiting for him. I smile remembering that that was actually the day I discovered my feelings for him… and then dread engulfs me remembering exactly what happened that day. The shot over the phone, James, Jasper being shot…
"Fuck,"
"Yeah!" she agrees with a hysterical tone on her voice.
"Listen Al, don't worry. He went out with some friends from his work, ok? Remember he's a detective, Al. I think they can take care of him."
"Oh, Ed, I'm not so sure… please. At least call him and try to convince him to just go home. I don't want him to get hurt, Edward," she finishes in a whisper.
"Ok, Ali, don't worry ok? I'll call him. We're going to be fine, ok?"
"Ok… thank you Eddy. I really love you both, you know? I just want you to be happy."
I smile. "I know Al, and we are. Say hello to mom and dad ok?"
"'K."
I exhale loudly. So now what? I do remember what happened the last time with Alice's bad feeling, but I also remember Jasper's exasperated tone when he called me just a few minutes ago too. If I call him now, I'm sure he'll be all broody and even angry with me. I know him, and he needs his space. This time he even asked me for it explicitly. He said he needed it… I don't want to be the controlling boyfriend, but I don't want him to be hurt either.
I growl and place the phone on its base. I walk to the living room and force myself to sit down and watch some TV. I'll give him the time and the space he needs, but I'll call him in an hour and tell him about Alice's call.
You have one hour Jasper. I hope that's enough time for you to cool down and come back to me.
When I finally call him, I can't reach him.
It's driving me mad! What if I made the wrong decision? I should have called him after Alice called, no matter if he were mad or whatever. I should have called him!
I don't know how much time passed. I called Peter, and he told me he left him at the bar. I don't think he deserved all the things I yelled at him, but I did it anyway. I called Maria; I called the station; I called the hospitals and God knows who else. My mind is going nuts with all the possible scenarios my very active imagination is conjuring. I fucking hate it!
I would go out and start looking for him street by street if we just didn't live in one of the most populated cities in the world. As much as I hate it, I know it's better if I stay here and wait for him if he arrives or call or if anyone else tries to contact me to give information. Please God, let him be ok…
I don't know how much time has passed, but the moment I hear the knocks on the door, I'm on the verge of madness. I open the door, and the slight relief I feel when I see him alive and here at the threshold, is abruptly replaced by dread and pain when I see his beautiful, perfect face contorted in pain and completely bruised.
In an instant, I recount two black eyes, two swollen cheekbones, a purplish and crooked nose and swollen lips. I watch in dread the dry blood all over his face and hair, and when he reaches to me with the ghost of a smile over his gorgeous lips, I'm unable to move. I don't react until he stumbles, finally snapping me out of it, and I take a step closer, catching him in my arms and cushioning his fall with my body. I finally let a pained cry when I see his eyes rolling back in his head, and I hold him tighter to me, begging him to stay with me, to be strong and stay with me.
I'm not sure how I managed it, but with the help of our front neighbor Raul, who surely heard my pained cries, I finally get him into the car and accelerate to the hospital, begging him, and all the gods I can conjure, to let him stay with me, not to take him from me all the way to the hospital.
It all seems like a dream, a recurrent nightmare when I'm once again sitting at his hospital bed and holding his hand, waiting for him to wake up and open those beautiful eyes. I close my eyes tightly, praying, begging to see those blue eyes once again. I'm so tired… I'm so fucking tired of crying, I'm tired of pretending that nothing bothers me; I'm tired of his job; I'm tired of his pain; I'm tired of fighting…
I wake up when I feel soft movement around me. I don't even remember when I finally succumbed to sleep. Yesterday the doctor put Jasper's left hand in a cast after arranging his nose –thankfully surgery was not necessary- and ordering some x-rays, he left the nurses to attend Jasper's numerous injuries all over his body. He was badly beaten, for what I could see and what the doctor told me, but thankfully nothing was too bad. It seems that his lack of response yesterday was more due to the alcohol in his system and the need of his body to recover from the beating and the cold it was exposed to during his black out than anything more serious.
I lift my head from the warm, comfortable pillow I was lying on, Jasper's forearm, and I'm met with Jasper's black, closed eyelids and painful frown. I reach out to wipe his tears with my fingertips, and he opens his eyes to finally look at me. He leans into my touch, making me smile for the faintest moment, when I suddenly watch his eyes harden, and he jerks away from me.
No.
No, no, no, this can't be happening.
It is happening, though. I recognize all the signals there, openly in display for my overactive brain to dissect them and study them one by one. I can almost feel his self-disgust, his pain, his fear, his guilt, but I can't fucking understand any of it!
I watch him getting away from me, with every breath, with every averted gaze, with every one-word answer; I can see him getting away. And once again I have that feeling I get in my nightmares. I run and run, reaching with my hand as far as I can, clutching my fingers around thin air when the thing I want gets farther away. I can't reach Jasper. I can't fucking reach him, and I don't even recall when I lost him.
I want to cry; I want to scream, but most of all, I just want to hold my beautiful lover tight to my body and erase that fucking unworthy look in his eyes. I need him to understand that he's killing me, not because of the pain he inflicts in me sometimes, or because of my absolute inability to understand him, but because of the pain he is in, because of the guilt he carries in him and constricts his happiness away from him.
I know what he's doing.
I can't believe him. I can't believe he's doing this to me, to us. He was the one to turn my whole world upside down. He's the one who was in love with me for over a year. A year! And now he's trying to dump me?
I almost feel like laughing, but it might sound a little hysterical if I attempt it right now. I'm sure he has the most bizarre, noble, stupid explanation for his actions, but I just don't feel like hearing any of it with this fresh, constricting, insufferable pain clenching my chest and messing with my logical thinking. I feel like laughing; I feel like pulling at my hair; like breaking something, anything!
I'm sitting on the couch now, trying to sort all this mess out when I feel his presence around me, and he comes into my line of sight, with his sorrowful fucking face, and his sorrowful fucking, pretty eyes.
I feel the ire building inside me, boiling, until I can't feel his presence anymore, or his warmth, or his love, or his knees touching the outside of my thighs.
I'm pretty fucking angry.
In the next second, though, I'm straddling him on the floor. He has a new wound over his jaw, and I want to hurt myself for hurting him, as if that horrible beating wasn't enough. I want to cry and beg for his forgiveness when he flinches at my movements, as if he was expecting more aggression from me, but I need to be strong. I need to be strong for both of us, Jasper, I keep chanting to myself over and over in my head, willing myself to stay in place and do what I need to do in order to stop this foolishness.
"Stop it!" I yell at him and at my own emotions, needing them to stop messing with my head and let me do this.
"I won't let you do this to us," I finally whisper, and I know I finally reached out to him when I hear his broken sob shaking our bodies.
We cry, both of us for our own miseries, our own ghosts, our own incapacities, and we hold onto each other as tight as we can. I vaguely think that this is exactly how it's meant to be, though. We are both broken, hurt people in our own measure -maybe Jasper more than myself- but the thing is, we love each other. We need each other to stay afloat, to live, to breathe. I can't imagine a life without him anymore, and this raw, emotional moment, is exactly how it should be, metaphorically speaking. We need to hold onto each other.
I promise him I won't ever let go, because I won't. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life. Hell, most of my life I've been the rich, educated boy who has everything he could ever ask for, but I never appreciate it. I've always taken everything for granted. I've never felt passion, or love, or devotion for anything in my life except for my company, not in the way Jasper has always lived his life. But now that I've found it, now that I've found a true reason for waking up each morning, for looking forward to finally getting home, fuck, to have sex as if it were my last day on earth, I won't ever let go. I would be stupid if I did.
***
We're waiting for my parents and Alice to arrive. We're sitting on the couch watching TV. Well, Jasper is sitting, I'm more like sprawled along the couch with my head on his lap. I'm almost purring with my eyes closed at the soft massage of his fingers over my scalp.
The only thing I can be grateful for after Jasper's beating and dumping-attempt, is that we finally could talk.
After long minutes, maybe even hours, of holding each other on the floor, the tears and occasional sobs finally subsided, and Jasper's body started to protest at the uncomfortable position, after being badly hurt so recently. So we decided to go to bed and spend the whole afternoon looking at each other, safely tucked into the covers and each other's embrace.
He told me everything; he told me about his father's blurry memories, his need to be what his father wanted of him, his dislike for his job, his guilt at not being a better son, a better detective, a better boyfriend, his love for me and absolute fear for my safety after what happened to him, even his decision to be a better man for me and letting his father go.
The last thing though, evoked yet another round of tears and sobs… enough to let me know, that he's not as prepared as he thinks he is to let his father go.
I will have to talk to Lillian about this subject. He's never talked much about his father, and I never really asked, but I would work better with more information about what kind of man he was, it just doesn't sound right to me that he would really like Jasper to choose his responsibility over his true happiness.
What shocked me the most, though, is what he told me about what he recalls as his hallucination, right after his attack. It worries me too much for several reasons. If it was indeed a hallucination, I'm more than worried about his mental health. I don't want to even think about it, but what if it's already too late for him? Is he completely broken after so many cases of murders and tortures and proof of the evil in the human soul? But then, if it was not a hallucination, then it worries me almost even more. If it was part of the attack… who could have so much information about him? Who and how could they know the right buttons to push?
I told him my concerns, and they definitely gave him another perspective from where to look at the whole thing. He told me about his suspicions about a guy in Narcotics, and he recalled some threats of his attackers that had been otherwise forgotten. It's all too suspicious to me, it just doesn't click, but I'm really worried about his safety. If they got him once, if they were able to inflict that much pain, not only physical, but emotional as well, I don't want to think about what else they could do if Jasper pisses them off.
Jasper is too precious to me not to actively do something to protect him… I'll have to think about it even more.
"Baby…" he whispers in a sing-song tone, making me smile.
"Your parents are about to arrive," he explains softly, "and then we'll be too busy attending the visitors for the rest of the afternoon, and then you'll be a bundle of nerves thinking about your Opening tomorrow, and-"
"Where are you getting at, love?" I ask smiling, finally opening my eyes and looking into those blue, perfect eyes above me.
"I just thought I could make something nice for you and get your mind away from stuff for a while,"
"And that would be?"
"It'll be better if I show you," he whispers before bending his torso in the most uncomfortable position I could dream of, just to kiss my lips softly and deliciously.
The best thing about our little talk is that we're finally free, at least around each other. I know his fears, he knows mine, and even while I still can't understand a lot of things about him, I know now a lot more about him and what makes him be the way he is. It also made us even closer than we were; no more hiding, no more evading, no more white lies. After our near-break up, we're more committed than ever and more in love too.
I hold onto his exquisitely, soft curls to hold him in place, kissing him back with all the love and passion I can conjure. I enjoy his taste, the warmth of his mouth and the feeling of his tongue, erotically sliding against my own in a slow caress. I will never get enough of his lips, and his tongue and his magical taste. It makes me all giddy and dizzy and intoxicated.
He ventures a hand over my abdomen, making the muscles clench under his warm hand. He softly traces one nipple with his fingertips, making it harden and eliciting a soft, content moan from me.
"We don't have that much time," he whispers against my lips.
I know, I answer him by kissing him harder and caressing him too, roaming my hands all over him, as much as I can touch from my place. He holds one of my hands, though, shaking his head at me. "I just wanna make you feel good," he murmurs.
"You'll pay me later," he whispers into my ear before taking it between his lips and sucking on it. As much as I want to touch him back, who am I to complain? I kiss as much of his chest as I can reach when he lowers his lips to my neck.
He smiles at my compliance against my skin, and his deliciously warm hand ventures lower, teasing the skin over the waistband of my jeans with his rough fingertips, making me arch slightly, asking for more. He finally reaches my cock over my jeans, and traces lightly over my hardened member with his knuckles.
"So hard for me," he murmurs, "So hard already, baby…"
Always, I want to say, but all I can do is moan again when he finally spreads his body along mine, with his mouth reaching my navel and softly nibbling on it. He lifts my shirt with one hand, just enough for his warm mouth to finally make contact with the skin of my abdomen, and I hold onto his hair again with one hand, while the other takes his hand over my cock and press harder, relieving my need just a little.
He complies just a few moments, letting me trust into his hand and stroking my cock harder over my jeans, until he lifts his hand to place mine over his blond hair too and his fingers start playing with my fly.
"Please," I repeat every time I feel his knuckles over my erection, teasing, ghostly caressing and retreating in just an instant, and I moan louder when his mouth bites softly over my hipbone, sucking on the skin and increasing my need of his mouth to be somewhere else.
He finally opens my jeans after a few minutes of his lovely, delicious torture, and by now I can feel the wet spot on my jeans, in which my cock has been leaking that pearly liquid of my need. I'll have to change, I vaguely note, before my cock springs free of its confinement, making me gasp in delicious relief. I must say I was actually hoping for a little rendezvous like this before my parents arrive, so I was wearing just the basics, jeans and t-shirt.
A strangled moan leaves my mouth when he licks just the head with his hot, wet tongue, and I hold tighter on his hair with one hand while the other roams along his back and shoulder, knowing how much he loves when I caress him. He presses my hips into the couch with both of his hands, making me still my needy movements, while he ever so slowly envelopes my shaft with his hot mouth. I would be writhing below him in pleasure, if not for his hands keeping me in place.
He loves to tease me like this, making everything slow and deliberate, driving me mad in need and pleasure. I feel his lips tightening his grip when he reaches the base of my cock, and he sucks while coming up again, until it's just the head in his mouth, where he swirls his tongue.
I moan and gasp without control. He loves me to lose control. He loves to make me lose control, and he succeeds every single time. I feel his rough, strong fingers softly caressing my sack while he keeps his slow torture over my cock, and I know it won't take too long before I'm spilling into his wet mouth.
He takes the shaft in one hand, and he takes me out completely from his mouth, but every cry of protest dies in my throat when the tip of his tongue traces mercilessly along my slit, and this time I writhe, without him holding me back. It's almost too much, too much need and pleasure. He plays with the head, sucking, swirling his tongue around it, making the most delicious slurping sounds, humming with me inside his mouth until I'm not more than a quivering mass, begging for more and gasping and moaning. He has me over the edge, and I just need something, anything, one little thing to finally fall, and he just loves keeping me there.
I fucking love his torture.
He tightens his hold on my cock, near the base, and ventures his mouth lower to take one of my balls into his mouth. Oh, fuck! He sucks it lightly before doing it again, and again, tracing the skin with his tongue once it's into his mouth. Oh, God, I'm so close.
He finally comes back and traces my cock with his closed lips once, from base to tip, and finally engulfs me completely, deep-throating me and sucking twice, and that's just what I needed. I feel the power of my orgasm shocking through me in waves, clenching all my muscles until I'm finally spilling my cum into his hot, awaiting mouth, where I feel him swallowing around me, eliciting even more from me.
God, I'll never tire of this.
He nibbles my navel while I come down from my heaven, placing soft kisses and still lovingly caressing my softening member. I try to get my breathing back to normal, while caressing his back and beautiful head, until he turns his head to look at me with those twinkling, gorgeous eyes.
Thank you, I mouth at him, and he smiles sheepishly from his partially covered face, and I think that's the most beautiful sight I've ever seen.
I finally sit down to kiss him properly, and I can still taste myself in his lips, deliciously mixed with his own intoxicating flavor, until we hear the bell of the main door.
"Fuck," I murmur with our foreheads pressed together.
I'm still breathing hard, with my cock freely on display and ruined jeans, and I don't care one bit.
"C'mon baby, I'll get the door while you change, ok?"
I just shake my head in response, and we finally leave the comfiness of the couch and stand up. I check on him quickly to prevent any nasty accident if he has some evidence of our activities on him, but he's ok.
I'm closing my door when I hear the muffled voices of my parents' and Alice's greetings in the hallway.
It's going to be a long weekend and a very important one, too. Tomorrow is my Opening Night, and if everything goes as I planned, this is my last weekend as a closeted man. I know it's time.
What do you think? In celebration to our 1000 reviews, I have a treat to my beautiful reviewers. Who wants to read Edward's later payment to Jasper?
Love you guys, have a wonderful week!