A/N: This certainly is not the work of Stephanie Meyer. You will see why. This is the sexploration we have all been waiting for... You may want to get your Nancy Meyer fancy pants...and find a cigarette. Need I say more?

August 7: Tango

lady, i will touch you with my mind.
touch you and touch and touch
until you give
me suddenly a smile, shyly obscene

e e cummings

Edward waited impatiently in Bella's room as the sound of running water tantalized him with images of her body dancing in that rain. His long legs dangled over the edge of her bed, swaying to the rhythm of the water, as he imagined how her form would follow the music. To stifle the sound and dispel the fantasy he held her pillow to his face, but the infusion of her scent mixed with his offered no solace. He groaned in frustration as the struggle against his imagination left him wanting.

A sly smile illuminated his face as a shy song wafted into the room. Singing in the shower was a newly acquired habit, hastily adopted during the recent shower intervention. Her song stirred his memory of how close he had come to sharing that tub with his bride and he chuckled, relieved there could be no such interruption today. Charlie was in Seattle for the weekend.

The sound of her voice and the invitation of water beckoned him beyond his ability to resist the temptation to join her. Opening the door with such precision that it did not appear to be moving at all, Edward sauntered in without a hint of his presence. Amused by his stealthy entrance into her private domain, he was oddly attracted by the counter littered with cosmetics. Examining each item quizzically; inspecting each bottle and scent he marveled at her need for any of it. In his eyes, perfection needed no assistance. He sighed, remembering the intimacy of Lever 2000, and he calculated the probability of other items having the same luxury of her body, musing to himself until the metallic rip of the curtain rings startled him.

"Edward Cullen!" she feigned shock, posing as if in a B-grade horror movie. "Are you spying on me?"

"I beg your pardon, Bella," he muttered. "I did not mean to…"

"I was teasing, Edward," she said, as she stepped from the tub, tucking the towel tighter around her body still wet from the shower.'

"How did you…" He was confused by the appearance of the wrap.

"Towel bar inside," she explained, giggling a little. "…sorry to disappoint you."

"Bell, I would never…" Hanging his head, embarrassment made him shy.

"Never is a very long time, Edward." Her lips met his in a chaste kiss. "I know I am taking too long, I'm sorry, honey. I just have to shave my legs.

Even after all their sexploration, Edward was a perfect gentleman to a fault. Any other teenage boyfriend with open access to his love's bed would have taken advantage of every opportunity to indulge his curiosities and impulsive nature, especially now with her permission. Edward did not. So, even though this minor invasion of her 'human moment' was not the first time she had found him in her bathroom, it was still highly irregular behavior.

"You must be bored..." she sighed, wondering just how long she had been under that water. "She will eat me alive if I don't shave!" Bella lived in fear of Alice's wrath for body hair maintenance.

"You cannot show these legs in shorts! What are you? Fuzzy wuzzy, the little bear!" she growled, mimicking Alice's scolding tone. Edward laughed at her antics, relieved of the tensions he found in his capture.

"She is turning me into a girl, Edward!" she cried dramatically, begging like a damsel in distress being tied to a cartoon railway track. "What can I do?"

"I suppose you must finish your girlie ritual, Bella." He snickered, relieved to be absolved of his supposed indiscretion. "I am happy to watch you... I mean to watch over you." His eyes twinkled with something…as if he had more than protection in mind.

"Are you now?" she said, shaking out her shaggy mane, falling around her shoulders. He inhaled sharply and her signature scent enveloped him with every lap of her curls swinging through the air.

Where once she cursed Alice's undying dedication to 'fashion make-overs' and rules of beatification of the female form, lately Bella found herself less resistant to her efforts. Edward's appreciation of inches of exposed flesh was motivation enough to endure a little pain for the pleasure of enjoying the look in his eye. Bella would never admit that sporting one of Alice's fashion interventions was not such an ordeal anymore. It would be too humiliating.

Wrapping the towel around her head in a turban worthy of Carmen Miranda, she quickly collected the little necessaries for the planned overnight with Alice. There were duplicates of every item waiting for her at the house, of course, but Bella insisted on keeping up appearances.

She wasn't fooling Charlie in the least, but Edward did not confide that tidbit to his bride. He knew it would make her nervous about stretching the truth to her father. Since the 'don't ask, don't tell' policy worked for her father's sense of right, everyone happily played their part. However, secretly, Edward enjoyed that Charlie was fibbing about his overnight whereabouts, having guests to the house when she was away, and enjoying a weekend in Seattle that included a certain lady friend.

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Edward. I was only teasing, I hope you know that," she said, drying her hair vigorously with the towel. "I like when you… visit," she said, biting her lip with hope that they could soon consummate such a meeting. "I like it a lot."

A murmur rumbling in his chest did not form words and he stared, contemplating his desire to lick every drop of water running from her body, wondering if each would taste like strawberries or his bride.

"Okay, okay, I am almost done." She giggled at his reaction to her invitation. Placing her leg on the edge of the tub, she twirled a can of shaving cream, and squirted the gel into her hand. "I promise, just give me two minutes."

Edward opened his mouth only to close it a second later. Hesitation was his nemesis. In a breathtaking flash, he knelt at her feet as he scooped the pink goo out of her hand.

"Allow me," he murmured, glazing her shin with a long caress. Mystified by the magical transformation of gel into rich foam, he looked up to meet her eyes. "It's magical?"

"Edward," she giggled, as his tickling fingers rounded her knee. "Are you jealous of my shaving cream, too?"

"No, of course not, Bella," he sighed, his voice like a luscious chocolate melting on the tongue while his hands found their way up from shin to thigh.

"...after all, it's not the cream, but what you do with it that I am interested in..."

A gasp of surprise slipped from her lips and an electric shudder followed.

"I like this," he murmured with a lusty tone of voice. "It's so slippery..." He looked up from his knees and winked to punctuate the suggestive possibilities of his remark.

"I just don't understand this human preoccupation with unnatural scents," he said calmly, bantering like a stylist combing through wet curls while applying layer after layer of shaving foam, slipping up higher and higher. "Mango is lovely, but you are that much more delicious," he said, inhaling deeply along his artistic trail of foam as he stood up, never for a moment breaking their eye connection.

"I'll keep that in mind." Her heart was pounding with the dangerous closeness of her naked body to his curiously wanton eyes, and she fought the urge to throw herself at him by thinking about how many shopping trips she would have to endure with Alice to buy unscented everything.

"Thank you for your help, Edward," she said politely, pushing him back a step from the tub, "but if you will excuse me..."

With sleight of hand speed worthy of Las Vegas con artist, he grasped the pink razor, and a twinkle of mischief danced in his eyes.

"May I help you, Isabella?"

His statement was a question made with effortless courtesy, as if he was offering to do something entirely mundane, like open her door or carry her books. She wondered if it was a joke.

"Ummm, Edward," she murmured, trying to find words to express the epic ridiculousness of this situation. "I don't think that is such a good idea."

"I don't see why not, Bella? I only want to help you." Innocence and angelic purity resonated in his voice. "What could be wrong with that?"

"Just think about it for a second, Edward," Bella spoke slowly and calmly, as if to a child. "It's a razor... razors cut things... on purpose."

"I just don't see the problem," he said as a sad puppy pout face blossomed on his perfect face. "Don't you trust me, Bella?"

"Come on, you know I want to play, but we just don't have time today, Edward." He refused to budge and she was forced to resort to a show of domination. "If you remember, we still owe her from the last shower episode. Do not press your luck. She'll hurt you."

A trembling lower lip completed the picture of his pitiful disappointment. Imaginary tears streamed down his cheeks. The look was particularly irresistible and he knew it. Bella giggled, thinking of Esme's challenge to skip showering altogether might have been a good idea.

"You cut that out right now, buster." She scowled, an admonishing finger wagging a serious threat. "I'm not falling for that dazzling boo-boo face, not this time."

Just as Bella had discovered a secret weapon in a particular word, Edward recently found by employing a certain human gesture, which greatly diminish her resistance, he could virtually guarantee her submission to any subject. It was a power over his bride that he enjoyed immensely. She was rather partial to it, also. It was a fun game, but not for today.

"Hand it over, before Alice sends out a posse!" she said, crossing her arms over her chest to secure her towel and her argument.

"It is a safety razor, Bella, what could happen?" Without expressing a hint of emotion, the look in his eye would challenge all logical argument. Running his finger over the edge, he pronounced his finding. "Look, there are moisture strips. It is perfectly safe."

"Reading Cosmo again?" The idea of Edward lounging around the house all night reading ladies' magazines was entertaining enough to make her giggle, but the situation was so absurd she hardly enjoyed it.

"Frankly, I much prefer Marie Claire." He shrugged nonchalantly. "Better fashion."

"I think you have lost your mind, Edward," she huffed, assessing the possibility that the groom had finally fallen ill with wedding psychosis. "Seriously, Edward... you are kidding, right?" she asked. Any vampire fiancé could entertain such insanity, but he did not budge, shaking his head slowly from side to side with a grin just as wide. "Can't you see it's dangerous...?"

"Bella, my love," he crooned in that black velvet tone that should be illegal, "it is not like anything bad could really happen..." The shift to this innocent voice was completely sincere, but only partially masked the excitement of the danger inherent in his indecent proposal. "After all, you do this all the time and you haven't bled to death yet."

"That is not exactly funny, Edward." She frowned petulantly. Jokes about uncoordinated humans were one thing, but joking about death by shaving was not her idea of funny.

"Where is your sense of adventure?" he whispered, seductively.

"Adventure?" she squeaked in exasperation. "This from the vampire who won't steal second base?" she grumbled, bending low to save the sliding foam from hitting the floor, but before she could retrieve the avalanche she popped upright, wondering if she had flashed him.

"I rather think I've been close to stealing third... wouldn't you agree, my darling?" His eyes were dark and lustful as his hands met hers swimming in mango foam.

"You have..." Bella whispered with a voice so small even extraordinary ears could have mistaken the sound for breath. The visceral echo of his touch rushed through her body and she shivered, not just from sensation of erratic rivulets of cool water dripping down her back, but from memories of his touch, his tongue, and the effect of his words on her body.

Bella's heart raced with the thrilling notion of living dangerously. Maybe it was the heat of the shower, or the sensation of his cool fingers massaging her leg with foaming tropical oils. Perhaps it was Edward's smoldering eyes, glowing with golden flecks today, tantalizing and inviting. Or the idea that this very commonplace activity could possess such an exciting new feeling of exhilaration.

Although the pink handle twirling in his fingers definitely looked like a weapon and the look on his face hinted at mischief making, she nodded.

"I can't believe Edward's going to shave my legs. I wonder what Esme and the girls will say..."

Not far from smug, he smiled victoriously in that crooked little grin that always won her over to anything he wanted, and today it was obvious he enjoyed taking full advantage of his triumph.

"Turn and face the wall, Isabella." His command was cool, but authoritative. Distracted, she turned her torso to the tiled wall, her leg still perched on the tub, stretching out like a Tango dancer's lunge.

His hand slid easily under the folds of the terry cover up and she gasped when his fingertips played softly across her bare midriff. Stepping closer, grasped her hips from behind and their bodies connected with the lasting pressure of his grip.

"You are wet, my love," he whispered in her ear. Trembling at the word that touched her in untouchable places, she gasped and her breath's rhythm broke into rapid, shallow panting. Her pupils dilated like saucers and although he could not see them, he knew this sign of arousal was there.

"oh my god, Edward," Her heart raced with extraordinary speed, and she murmured, "where did you learn to talk like that!"

"Of course, I meant your belly, from the water," he snickered, his voice rumbling in his chest like far away thunder. " ...such a dirty mind you have!"

Absentmindedly distracted by the intensity of the moment, she wondered if anyone in the Cullen family knew what was transpiring in her bathroom. She wondered how he could balance while dancing a tango with a razor in his hand, but his tight grip never relented, and she decided wherever he lead them, she was along for the ride.

"Now, that is something I would like very much like to try some day with you," he murmured with seductive promise. He nuzzled in her ear, and a shiver danced through her body at this unexpected touch.

"Would you Tango, love?"

The gasp that proclaimed her excitement made his nostrils flare with anticipation, and she giggled softly as he licked at her wet neck. "Do you Tango, Edward?" Her voice was low and husky.

"I love Tango..." he growled, his eyes darkened with desire. "Would you share the dance with me, Bella?" Carlisle's words echoed in his mind, admonishing him to relish the dance of love, and he chuckled to himself thinking how far he'd come… and how proud Carlisle would be of his courage and success.

"You know how I feel about dancing, honey. You would have to teach me…"

"It would be my pleasure to teach you," his hissed, touching his teeth to her ear. With a steady hand, he pressed the small of her back into him, drawing her body much closer than he had ever before, and a soft moan escaped her lips as her behind made contact with his eager crotch. Hunger met with delicious pressure. Through his jeans, she knew she was not alone in her feeling. His arousal was undeniable.

"Are you ready, my love?" he whispered again, softly kissing along her shoulder laced with strawberry.

"Uh-huh..." The non-words stumbled out of her mouth and the sound of her bounding pulse proclaimed the answer she could not verbalize.

"Now, try not to move..." Reaching for a quivering ankle slathered with foam his hand glazed naked thigh. Their eyes met, drawn like magnets to the hot ripple of electricity at this accidental touch. With each pass of the razor, they gently swayed as if one body joined in the most intimate way. Rocking like a sailboat on a calm sea, Edward led their experience in a way he had not before, gently grinding himself into her behind. Her head rolled back to rest on his shoulder in an expression of complete surrender.

"Ahh..." a deeper moan found life, and with a hand searching behind her head to touch his cheek, she sighed, "Who needs to tango...?"

This mundane event - shaving her legs - became the most exciting sexual experience of a virgin life. Breathless in his hands - the one with the razor and the one without, he danced with a need for endless discovery, tracing exposed flesh. Dipping lower and lower to her toes changed the angle of his touch, transporting them further into desire. Consumed by sensations that pushed the buttons of her impulsive streak, her hips rocked hungrily against him with the natural grace of his dance, and the heat of her arousal scented the air.

"I can feel you growing, Edward," she said, pushing into him, a wisp of pride hiding near the surface of her smile.

"So can I..." he growled, his pelvis reacted in return, thrusting gently, sending her swooning in his arms. Although she could not see his face facing the tiled wall, she could almost smell his grin of delight as she floated in stupor, breathless, hot, and hungry for more. Pleased with her undoing, but perceiving she might collapse in her weak-kneed state, he guided her arm to grasp onto the curtain rod to steady her legs.

"Not bad for a rookie..." he whispered seductively, nibbling gently on her earlobe, sending a new volley of fireworks through her body. Descended to the floor, but never losing eye contact, she gasped as he gathered water in his hands, and rinsed the remnants of soap from her very smooth leg. He lingered at the knee, paying particular attention to her quivering thigh.

"What are you doing down there, Edward?" She shivered with excitement.

"Rinsing..." Batting his eyes to feign innocence, his brow rose wickedly. "What do you think I am doing?"

"I think you are trying to kill me..." she whimpered as he lavished her ankles with tender kisses. "...my heart is going to explode."

Smirking, he knew exactly how he tantalized her with the possibility that this physical closeness could escalate to something much more intimate. His gaze never wavered. She was drowning in desire. These most intimate touches played with the evaporating boundary between the sensual and the sexual.

"Edward... please, you are driving me crazy." Trembling, her voice barely registered as sound. His crooked grin, arched eyebrow, and his slightly pursed lips did not respond.

"And now to finish what I started," he sighed. The matter-of-fact tone was a clever mask worn for the game; however, from his deliberate and controlled pace, it was obvious he needed to work at it.

"Oh my god…" she cried softly, both invoking help and celebrating it.

"Turn around, Isabella," he said with confident authority as he placed his hands on her shoulders, to meet him face to face.

Massaging her thigh with the heel of his palm, his fingertips tripped lightly on the way up her leg to her knee, and he murmured in French, "Votre pied, sil c'est vous plait, mademoiselle."

Hooking his fingers, dangling soft caresses to the back of her knee, he laid her foot on the tub with a gentle touchdown. Topaz eyes never wavering, she shuddered, realizing that this simple act parted her legs to him for the first time. Bella longed to take his mouth, to taste him, and to bring his body into hers. Standing between her knees, the perfume of her arousal wafted over him.

Breathlessly, he whispered to himself, "This is very interesting…"

Face to face and close enough to feel the outline of his erection straining through the thin layers of fabric that were the only boundary between them, excitement and uncertainty rushed over their bodies in this the most intimate position possible while standing and not having intercourse.

"Oh, Bella," he moaned, "I cannot tell you... how I feel... how your scent..."

Without hesitating, he began again, pulling in close to his chest and bracing himself with his opposite leg encasing her in him, pressing him into the tender of her pelvis, hunger swelling dangerously close to exposure. Connected with delicious pressure, Edward lifted Bella into his embrace, dancing without touching the ground, suspended, cared for like a fragile egg... just like in the meadow.

"Now we are ready..." Breaking from the careful tone of self-control into a soft growl, his eyes flashed with black desire.

"Oh, yes,"she groaned, arching her back to thrust into his very eager crotch.

With painstaking attention, he followed every contour, every nuance of her body, smoothing with his cool fingers the soapy tracks of the razor's edge. His large hands brought drenching water to clear the remainder that left a sparkling sheen that made her giggle. Once satisfied with his work, cool fingers lingered, and he trembled. From the look in his onyx irises, she knew what he was thinking just what she was thinking. Neither one wanted this exploration to be over.

"I'm yours, Edward, all of me." Threading fingers through his hair, she took his lips into her own to kiss her permission. Pressing firmly against him, she parted them to brush against his with a tentative tongue. Trembling under her grasp, he allowed her to enter and taste his mouth. Releasing her only for breath, intense fire burning pitch obscured his irises when his trembling hand caressed her creamy soft thigh.

"Soon, love, very soon." Hope and fear mingled in his mind as the anticipation of her response lay as a thick layer of fog, soft, wet, and mysterious. A smile of a goddess illuminated her face, and without shame or hesitation, the towel released from its binding, but before it slipped away into a puddle around his feet, he refastened it tight.

"As I am yours, my love," he whispered in return. "I hunger to see my prize. You know that I do..." he said solemnly, with reverence and awe at her question. "…but I will not take you here. Please, don't ask me to. I cannot refuse you."

"You're right," she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Not the most romantic place to lose your virginity, is it?"

"Bella," he murmured, burying his face in valley of her breasts, "I want to touch you..." The velvet cream of resonance in the sound brought out a jagged breath in her that edged somewhere between the disorder of crying and the chaos of ecstasy.

"Touch me, Edward," she whimpered, liquid eyes with heavy lids drunken with desire and fueled by the heat of his game. "I've wanted you to… for so long."

"Are you sure, Bella?" A wince of indecision flashed in his eyes.

"Aren't you sure?" she said, reassuring him with her smile, raking fingers through his impossible hair. "I know you can do this, Edward, but I don't want to if you are not ready."

Nodding his head, his hand skimmed under the towel to brush against her belly, to her hip and then to trace with a wide fingers the round of her firm ass.

"Those evil pants," he groaned, remembering. "I can think of nothing else, but this place..." his fingers glided back and forth along the ridge between thigh and buttocks, cupping the curve in his hand. "...peeking out, just here." His hand cupped the place and a gentle squeeze made him moan with want. "I thought I would go insane."

"Really?" She giggled, thinking of Esme's observation predicting such a reaction.

"I wanted to bite you, right there..." A strange expression on her face made him smile to reassure her. "...not that kind of bite, Bella!" he chuckled, "I wanted to taste that teasing flesh, the geography I never knew, that is what I meant. You have no idea how you made me crazy that night."

"Oh," she sighed, relief and imagination brewing a new feeling. She blushed, imagining his tongue there.

"I threw myself you, naked in your bed," he murmured, riding the fullness of her curves with a ghosting touch. "I almost lost it…" he squeaked, surprised to admit his weakness. "I wanted to take you that night. But you were once again the voice of reason." Breathing in a strange rhythm, his expression in awe and intensity of focus gave away his secret. His dark eyes cried, pleading for mercy, and permission.

"I want more, Bella," he said, drinking in her eyes as if a source of sweetest blood. The pounding of her excited heart screaming in his head, the unrelenting gaze weighed heavy as the warmth of her body melting his discretion, his mind raced, calculating how far to proceed.

"So do I, Edward." Her voice rumbled low as she breathed in deeply to capture his scent and rubbed herself against his hair, marking him as hers. Tension stilled his breath.

Recognizing the signs of fear, she comforted him with the soft stroke of her warm palm on his cold cheek. Entwining her fingers with his at her navel, "I will help you," she said.

With excruciating patience, she guided his hand to venture closer to the sacred unknown, so close to the heat radiating from deep within that his fingers tingled. Moving in slow motion, his brain and body overwhelmed by unknown sensations took over. With a burst of courage, a ghost of contact breezed over the wisps of the curls guarding her secret place, and he froze in fear, as if electrified by the sensation. For a moment, he retreated to stroke with his thumb in relative safety against her trembling inner thigh. The hint of wetness he found there could not be masked or denied, and without invitation, his touch returned to play among the manicured place.

A grin of delight enveloped him when he turned to see her melting in his arms with lax cheeks and wild eyed countenance of surprise, anticipation, ecstasy, and disbelief as together they explored the mystery of her body. Lips curled in a precious pout, swollen and pink and a song of arousal began singing under his touch; it was the musical sound of his fingers dancing, calling his name.

"So, they are lips…" he murmured softly, "...because your wetness sings where I touch..."

"You see what you do to me, Edward?" A shy embarrassment for her body so out of control she blushed, painting her chest crimson. "You make me so wet, I want you so much."

Overflowing with the rush of blood demanded by heightened arousal, the temptation was too great to resist. The heat called to him just as her blood tantalized his thirst. A thread of panic snagged his determination and pulled him back as tension over took his body and fear crushed him.

"Bella, I..." He rested there, his exploration at a crossroads, waiting for a sign, and a nod of ascent as he circled, hovering over the very secret he longed for, but dared not entertain.

"I want you inside me..." she panted, taking his fingers in hers. "...is that what you want?"

"Yes."

"Are you okay, Edward?" she said, awakened to his expression. "Do you need to stop?"

"No, I need to... I want to touch, but..." his voice trailed off in hesitation.

"Touch me, Edward. Please, don't be afraid," she murmured, holding his face in her hands, pleading for him to accept that which he already knew to be true. "You aren't hurting me. You won't."

As if offering permission, she nodded, the entire being of her love traveling through chocolate eyes. Eager fingers traced the outline of the folds feathering out to greet him to initiate a tandem massage. Gasping, her scent rushed into his body and he held breath to capture the essence. Grazing, brushing with the faintest contact, mapping each wrinkle tenderly with painstaking precision, memorizing each nuance, gauging every reaction.

"So warm... so wet... so beautiful."

With the grace and delicate reverence of a sacred rite, his finger delved deeper, spreading the folds open to reveal the hidden treasure, the pearl buried deep beneath the layers of delicate flesh. The petals of the flower now in bloom released a perfume even more intoxicating to his heightened senses and her human ones.

"Oh god..." he growled, as if in pain, "I want to..."

Dipping into the enchantment exposed by the blossoming bud, the depth of mutual desire struggled against the promise of a greater passage. Careful not to enter this unknown realm, his fingers hovered, purposefully delaying the inevitable, natural, logical, and the much-anticipated final act of innocence.

"I want you inside me..." The words were hardly sound. "I need to feel you, Edward."

"No, Bella, I will hurt you."

"No, Edward, you won't. Don't be afraid, Edward." She smiled at him in gratitude and pride for his reaction and his gift. There was no monster in him. She was not afraid. "I love you... all of you. You wouldn't hurt me."

Nodding, gasping, and willing, his quiet finger adventured in to the darkness. Unsure of the path that beckoned him, he circled with a tentative blindness of the uninitiated. As the single digit quietly entered, his desire could no longer be managed. Carefully, buried inside her, he cupped her neck, drowning her dry mouth with his parted lips, his tongue, and his teeth more brazen than ever before. It was a passionate call of his need for her body to join with his, and she answered him, moaning into his mouth, and he trembled.

"I want to be inside of you." The rumble low in his chest showed he was restraining his urge to push too far in this moment. "I want it so much..." He toyed with the surrender he desired to accept.

The fear of the unknown was heady and irresistible. "This is more than touching... much more..." His eyes screamed the word he could not say. Embarrassment, fear, anxiety, want, had given way to nature.

Lust.

With lazy eyes and a broken breath, he gingerly tapped forward, gently spiraling, tentatively entering into the depths of her. This cold hardness electrified his touch, foretelling of the night yet to come. The innocent wonder of his expression disintegrated into a blank mask as from within her body her muscles caressed him, squeezing tightly against him, as if milking him from within the depths of a willing body. His fingers were captured in the strong, pulsing embrace of her love.

"What is happening..." he stuttered with anxiety. "Are you all right?" A grim tension of insecurity washed over his brow, momentarily afraid of the overwhelming sensation calling him to surrender himself completely. Bella's eyes never left his and the constant connection soothed away his fear. "What are you doing, Bella?" His eyes frowned in concern that melted only with the sight of the knowing smile growing on her lips.

"I'm loving you, Edward," she murmured, cupping his face, "with all of me."

The intensity of her inviting chocolate eyes, misty with want, held him gently in her sight. Inside the cocoon of her now discovered body, she smiled lovingly at the man who held her heart, who spoke to her soul, and who by his very being made her life meaningful. If he felt weakened in this exploration, he did not flinch or pull away. He allowed himself to enter into the experience. He was free. Colored only by the passion of his lust, not the power of his thirst, his topaz brilliance shined like a brilliant gem and his being was filled with joy.

Every quest for human experience he insisted upon, every sexploration triumph and every protest against her change suddenly made sense. All along he wanted to ask for means to share her experience. Needing to understand in his terms, not wanting to translate or extrapolate from watching her, this was what needed. She wanted more than anything to speak in his language and to reach beyond the places of his human sense blindness to a place they could share. With this openness to experience, she grew stronger and more confident.

"Don't move, Edward." The command came from the depth of her being and so strong was the sound, he was stunned and did not have the opportunity to shrink back now from the need they both longed to satisfy. Releasing him from her body, she held his slender hand and kissed the fingers that were still warm and fragrant with the scent of her wetness. His eyes widened with awe as she curled his hand into a cup, burrowed her nose inside, and inhaled deeply.

"I like it." The secret made her bashful with the telling, but the telling was a gift she gave freely. "My scent, I mean. I like what you do to me, Edward..."

He held his breath as he watched her eyes flutter in pleasure as she explored the lasting presence her body had made on his hands; her nose brushed his palm as she traced the route on his flesh and she murmured in her discovery.

"I smell different on your fingers... us... together on you," she said, offering up the little cup to him. The purring of her voice floated like the steam wafting still in the tiny bath. "I know you know... but now you know I know it, too."

The man who feared he was not a man looked at his bride with eyes of love and he wondered, if only for a moment, if she could not see beyond his thoughts and into his spirit, for although what she professed was entirely accurate, the thought had yet to bubble up into his consciousness. Together they created something new.

"You see..." she tripped on her words as she met his golden eyes so full of need, not of lust, but for knowledge and she searched for the right way to describe her experience.

"Well," she began again, looking away first, before connecting with his eyes. Faltering briefly, Bella paused as a pang of indecision flashed through her mind and she feared judgment.

"What are you thinking, love?"

"Do you want to taste me, Edward?" She smiled a grin of mischief and delight that captivated him.

He could not blink. He dared not breathe.

"Bella, I cannot..." He shuddered; the depths of pain in his obsidian eyes decried his lust. There was pleasure in his pain. "... my teeth."

With wide eyes and her front teeth pressing firmly into her lower lip, she gasped in surprise

"I guess we'll get to that," she giggled, a new layer of blush pinking her cheeks to think that he considered putting his mouth on her in that way. "I meant like this..." Her rosy lips, swollen full with blood, simply parted as her tongue emerged slowly to touch his palm and sample the bounty of her essence.

"Taste me, Edward." The offer, both sacred and somehow profane raced through his mind like a tornado of emotion. It wore on his face, heavy and foreboding.

"It's okay," she said, softly murmuring into his chest. "Like this..."

Rolling slowly, lavishly, and creeping up from the crease of his palm to the tip of his finger. Their eyes met. Permission secured, she took the tip of his finger into her mouth, swirled the edges of his fingernail to gather every drop, and her teeth scraped his flesh as he moaned softly, purring, and trembling as she sucked gently flushing out her sweet juices, reborn anew in the abundant wetness of her mouth.

"Oh, god..." He moaned, struggling to suppress the roar of pleasure building in his core at the sight and sounds of her mouth on him as he imagined so much more. Swimming in the deluge of conflicting emotion, the exploration of her tongue tasting their subtle union in her mouth consumed him.

"Are you okay, Edward?" she said, pulling her pink tongue back from his hand. "... is this too much?" The experience was deep and heavy, but his mind was there, allowing the lust for her body to purge any thought of the blood.

"I like the way we taste," she whispered softly, simply, without force or heat, and without fear or shame and her soft pink tongue played on her teeth, pushing forward to part her lips again.

"I am tangy and sweet-like, the way moss swells up after a rain; vivid green, teeming with life, earthy like loam, like in springtime when everything is waking.

"I am textured... like toes playing on cool wet sand and the salt water drying in the sun on your legs.

"I am creamy and light... like the velvet petals of a red rose and lingering, like a long sigh."

She pulled him close and whispered in his ear.

"That's what we taste like... to me."

He captured her face in his hands in gratitude, his body alive with knowledge vastly deeper than he could have found on his own. He finally understood. The intensity of the kiss filled her with gladness, for her gift had been received.

She rejoiced knowing she could bring him to life.

Dear Diary:

In hindsight, I know how important and valuable for him...what maybe started out as a game is now so much more important. I can see his need to know these things. To know what I am like... what I sense, how I sense. The differences and the limitations of my senses isolated us. His making took away the possibility of sharing this discovery of ourselves. He may have thought that through experimentation and exploration he could be better prepared to please me and to protect me by lessening the intensity of our first time intimacy, but I think he is better prepared only because by exploring the sensuality of our love he found his humanity.

I only hope that is what he found in our exploration.

I know I did.

Chapter End Notes:

I don't know exactly what to say, because I am breathless. Let me know what you think...better yet, tell me how it makes you feel. Not much left, you know!

NEXT UP: August 12 We have finally made it to the big day, although if accuracy is important, it is the first of several eventful days. The countdown of day before the wedding, worthy of anything the Johnson Space Center has to offer, is filled with the old, the new, the borrowed, and... well, you get the picture.

August 13: Wedding Crashers invited! Bring a date, just like the receptionist! No gifts needed, thank you. Unless, of course, you'd care to contribute to the collection of reviews...