Stars materialize

"Are you excited for Paris, my love?" Demetri asked, slicing into his steak like a barbarian. He didn't wait for her to answer, because he didn't care what her answer was or if she even had an opinion of her own on anything. "Of course you are. Who doesn't love Paris in the springtime? You are made for Paris, Isabella. You will command legions of fans and admirers the moment you arrive."

And ticket sales. Let's not forget ticket sales – the real purpose of our visit.

"You still have shows booked here in Moscow, however. We can't have you shirking your duties to bathe yourself in lilac and lavender all day," he chuckled at his pathetic excuse for a joke. "Your fans here would be devastated."

So would your pocketbook, you miserable, conniving bastard.

Isabella sat at the sprawling dining room table like a good little girl, nodding and smiling close-lipped smiles as Demetri chattered on and on about how wonderful Paris was going to be and the impressive fan base she would build there. She quietly picked at her food and wished there weren't so many people watching her; a guard at every door, every seat at the table filled with Demetri's drooling admirers, servants at every elbow. They couldn't see into her mind as she thought of the best time to sneak out and what to take with her and what to leave behind. She wondered if Edward would be waiting for her like he said he would. Her skin tingled and her panties moistened as she remembered his face, his lips, his touch, his words to her under the seeping awnings of the dance studio.

He loves me. I knew it. Edward loves me and I love him and I have to get out.

"Yes Demetri," she answered robotically. "Paris sounds lovely."

That night, in their massive bed chamber, Isabella hummed to herself as she packed for a trip she had no intention of taking. She glided back and forth from the walk-in closet, her silken dressing robes sweeping the carpet, to the four-poster bed with open suitcases propped atop the mattress, placing her luxurious items inside – exquisite clothing and jewels, perfumes and toiletries, items that meant nothing to her, that meant less to her than Demetri himself. It wasn't just packing. For Isabella, it was a purging. To no one's knowledge but her own, there was a non-descript duffel bag already packed and waiting for her in the top kitchen cupboard next to the flour and pans above the stove by the servant's entrance, her final exit.

The few clothes and the slippers she tossed inside would never be noticed.

She waited until Demetri had been asleep for several hours. She waited until his breaths were long and deep and filled with snores and that was when she silently slipped out of bed, her feet making no noise as they descended the staircase and padded down the corridor towards the kitchen. She stuck her feet into thin rubber shoes and the sound of the latch closing behind her had never felt more empowering. When she hit the sidewalk, she ran hard and fast, down narrow alleys and with only her memory to lead the way to Edward's window.

He'd left it open.

Just like we planned.

The nights were getting warmer and Isabella's breath stung in her lungs as her chest heaved from heavy breathing and a hummingbird heartbeat. Her legs were shaking but she managed to slip inside Edward's room with ease. And there he was. There was other-worldly Edward stretched out on the mattress, on his back, his arm draped over his eyes. Isabella crept across the bed and crawled over him, keeping her weight on her hands and knees and she gazed down at him adoringly. She stroked the backs of her fingers down his cheek and leaned to kiss the tip of his perfect nose.

Edward slowly began to blink his eyes open until they focused on Isabella's gently smiling face hovering inches above his own. He didn't move as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and down his temples into the hair around his ears.

"I thought you weren't coming," he finally whispered.

Without warning Isabella flopped all of her weight onto Edward's torso and hugged him, gripping him so hard that bones cracked and they kissed each other's faces and necks and tugged at hair with their legs twisting and Edward started to talk as Isabella licked over his throat, memorizing his taste all over again.

"We won't be able to stay here," he warned. "I can't put Emmett, Rosalie, and the new baby in danger. We'll have to leave."

"I don't care," she kissed. "I already told you. I'll go with you anywhere."

"Ok. But we have to go tonight. They'll know you're gone as soon as the sun rises."

"Fine."

"We won't have much. Less than we even have here."

"We'll have each other. That's all that matters."

"There might be times when there's not enough to eat. You'll be hungry. Things won't be the way you're used-"

"I don't care."

"Ok. ….But..." Edward paused and swiped at his eyes because this was the big one. This was the HUGE one and he already knew what Isabella would say and it broke his fucking heart to know that she'd be willing to give up the very thing she cared most about for the chance to be with him.

"You won't have anywhere to dance. Isabella. You won't have all the time in the world to practice like you do now."

"I don't care," she answered, sliding the palm of her hand down Edward's bare chest, lower and lower, noticing his breath hitch and his stomach muscles tighten when she reached the juncture of his thigh. She traced back up and then back down again. Edward's breath caught in his chest and he took both of her tiny wrists in his hands. He placed her hands on his shoulders and kept them there while he pushed his hands up the back of her shirt, running his thumbnails over the ridges in her spine. She hissed and he smiled a crooked smile.

"I should care enough for you, Isabella. Bella. Beautiful. .....Love is supposed to be selfless, but I can't be. I'm not strong enough. Because I want you, beautiful. Beautiful Bella. I want to be with you. I want you to be mine and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen and to keep you with me. ....Do you see now? I'm really a selfish bastard."

There was a pause as they held each other, as Edward removed Isabella of her long dressing gown, as he tossed it to the floor and ran his trembling hands over her supple bare breasts, her hardened nipples, as she shifted and gyrated and slipped out of her underwear and came into contact with his naked body, his erect penis, as she pressed and writhed her wetness against him, she took Edward's face in her hands and leaned their foreheads together, and as he entered her she whimpered a cry that turned into a moan and she clenched her muscles around him and held him inside her.

"Edward," she groaned and she rocked against his hips. "you're the most selfless man I've ever met. I know you'll take care of me. I'm not scared. I'll take care of you too. If that's all I accomplish for the rest of my life. I'll be the luckiest woman alive...to know that I've made you smile. You'll always be enough. …More than enough."

Their lips crashed together, hungrily, desperately, and Edward rolled on top of her so he could claim her as his own.

"I want you to know one thing," he panted, thrusting his rock hard length deep inside her. "I promise you...I'll never let anyone hurt you...ever." He was close, the familiar rumbling in his abdomen warning him that he wouldn't hold out much longer. Another thrust and he could feel Isabella shaking underneath him with the power of her own release. Her warm body going limp as he continued to ride her through her orgasm. He grunted as his own climax overtook him and they rode the wave together, pleasure pouring over them, sweaty in each others arms and he swept Isabella's matted hair from her forehead.

"...and I'll get you back into a studio if we have to break in every night. ...I promise."