Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, but Carlisle Cullen owns me.


Play Me

Bella Swan's Point of View

My phone rang before I could dial Alice's number. That was starting to seem less creepy now. I answered it as I stared at my closet, completely lost.

"Don't worry," she chirped happily, "I'm on my way over to show you what to wear."

I sighed in relief. "Alice, you're the best."

"Get started with the black Aubade bra and panties with the garter belt, and I'll be right there."

"Thanks." I hung up the phone and dug out the complicated bits of lace that were supposed to be my foundation garments for the evening. I pulled them on, and was just sliding the second black stocking up my leg when there was a tap at the door.

"It's me!" Alice announced from the other side.

I called for her to come in, and she breezed through the door, nudging it closed behind her with her foot.

"Perfect," she said approvingly, looking over what I was wearing so far.

It was a little odd, having her critique my underwear, and it occurred to me that she had probably seen a lot more than that in her visions.

Oh, god, I did not want to think about that. I shoved the thought out of my mind and followed her to the closet.

"This," she said, pulling out a simple black cocktail dress. She held it up in front of me, and I breathed out a little sigh.

"It's just right."

"Of course it is. It's Chanel. She practically invented this look."

I took the dress and put it on, and Alice helped me zip it up in back. Then she led me to the bathroom and helped me twist my hair up into a pretty up-do with a few curling tendrils falling free. She pouted until I gave in and allowed her to apply some mascara and eye shadow, and then stood back, looking at me critically.

"Jewelry," she said. "You know that silver bracelet of yours would look really—"

"No," I said, cutting her off.

She gave me a curious look. "Don't you think it's pretty?"

"It's pretty," I mumbled, turning away and heading back to my room.

She followed me. "Why don't you like it?"

"I just don't." I dug through my closet for a pair of shoes to wear until I found the pair of Manolos I had worn to the courthouse. I held them up to Alice, and she nodded her approval.

"Just keep a good grip on Carlisle's arm so you don't fall," she teased me, moving to my jewelry box. She found a conservative pair of earrings with a matching necklace and held them out to me. "Are these okay?"

"Yeah, they're fine," I said, taking them from her and putting them on.

"So what's with the bracelet?" Alice asked. "You're not allergic to silver are you? Because that would be hilarious, what with you hanging out with vampires and werewolves."

Guilt crept up inside me and I turned away quickly, moving to the bed so I could put on my shoes. "I'm not allergic to it. I just don't like it."

"So why do you have it?"

I shrugged, not meeting her eyes. "It was a gift."

She was silent for a minute, and when I chanced a glance at her she was looking at me speculatively. "All right. Well, you look great. You and Carlisle have a good time tonight!"

"Thanks," I smiled, relieved that she had dropped the subject.

Alice breezed out of my room, and after a quick look in the mirror, I followed her out. She was already gone by the time I got downstairs, so I moved into the kitchen where I could hear Carlisle setting out dishes on the table.

He looked up at me and smiled, his eyes moving over me. "Bella, you are absolutely the most illecebrous woman I've ever seen."

I laughed, blushing a little. "I really hope that's a compliment."

He gave a low chuckle. "I'm afraid I'm betraying my age. You look lovely." He moved to my side and took my hand, guiding me to the table, where he had already dished up a plate of food for me.

It smelled incredible. "How can you cook like this when you don't like to eat?" I asked him.

He chuckled and sat with me at the table, folding his hands in front of him. "It's a useful skill to have. And we don't really forget things, so being out of practice means very little."

I blinked in surprise. "You don't forget things?"

He shook his head, smiling. "Our human memories can be tough to recall. But since I changed, I have never forgotten a moment of my life. It's always there, waiting to be summoned if I need it."

"Wow," I murmured. "That would sure make Trig tests easier."

He laughed again, his eyes sparkling. "Yes, my children tend to get good grades."

We chatted idly while I ate, and when I was nearly finished Carlisle left to get changed. He was back again in less than a minute, looking incredible in a black suit with a deep blue tie.

I took my plate to the sink and then turned back to Carlisle. He held out a hand to me, and when I placed my hand in his palm he guided it to his elbow. He led me to the door, helping me on with my coat, and then escorted me to the car. When he had settled beside me and started toward Port Angeles, I decided to take on the heavier subjects.

"Carlisle," I said hesitantly, "where's Edward?"

His face hardened a little. "You don't need to worry about Edward. He's no longer here in Forks."

"Is he coming back?"

He moved his hand to my knee, squeezing it gently. "Bella, I won't allow him to hurt you. Please don't be afraid."

His words surprised me. "I-I'm not," I stuttered. "I mean . . . I know you wouldn't let him do anything. I just want to talk to him."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You want to talk to Edward?"

I nodded. "I mean, Emmett said he feels bad. I just want to talk it out with him so we can put it behind us."

"Bella, I'm not sure that's the safest course of action."

I bit at my lip. "Why not? I get that I shouldn't be alone with him, but I can't just avoid him forever."

"You can. We have some friends in Alaska. I can ask him to go stay with them."

My jaw dropped. "You'd make him leave? Carlisle, he's your best friend."

He fixed me with a sober look, all but ignoring the road as he drove. "It's not worth gambling with your safety. I won't allow him to stay here if it endangers you in any way."

I slipped my hand in his. "He's my friend, too. I want him to come back."

He set his jaw. "I think that's unwise."

"Maybe. But I wouldn't feel right about him having to leave because of me. It was just an accident."

"An accident that is likely enough to happen again," he pointed out.

"I know. And if it happens again, you'll be with me. Or Alice, or Esme . . . somebody. And it won't be any worse than it was yesterday."

Carlisle gave me a stern look. "It would be foolish to underestimate him, Bella. His special abilities give him an advantage over most everyone in a fight."

"But he stopped. He was asking Sam to get him away, wasn't he?"

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yes."

I prodded just a bit more. "I'd miss him if he didn't come back."

He was quiet for a long moment, but finally he nodded. "All right then. I'll call him tonight."

"Unless Alice has already done it," I smiled.

He laughed softly. "You're getting a handle on how things often go in our family."

I rubbed my hand over the back of his, clinging tightly to him. I hadn't liked being away from him, and it was a relief to have him close again.

He lightened the subject for the remainder of the drive, telling me a little bit about Dvorak's history, and I leaned back and closed my eyes, letting his honeyed voice wash over me as he spoke. The car filled with his perfect scent, and I breathed him in, wishing I knew what it would take to keep him forever.

When we got to the theater, he escorted me inside and led me up a set of stairs to a long hallway. He moved past several doorways hung with heavy curtains, and he stopped at one, pulling back the velvet draperies and ushering me through.

Beyond the curtain was a small private box that held four ornate chairs. He drew two of them to the back corner of the box, but he didn't take a seat. Instead he moved to the railing and looked down over the slowly filling theater below. He slipped an arm around me when I joined him, rubbing my arm lightly.

"I guess I shouldn't be all that surprised that you have a private box here," I said.

"I like it for symphonies and choirs. Musical performances with no visual aspect." He looked down at me and smiled. "The view isn't ideal for plays and operas."

"Do you come a lot?"

"Yes, I'm quite a fan of the arts. Edward and Esme usually accompany me, and Jasper occasionally comes along."

I cocked my head. "Jasper doesn't seem the type."

He smiled, looking out over the theater. "He enjoys the emotional climate. He likes to see the similarities and differences in how various people are moved by the music."

We watched as the theater slowly filled with people, and then as the musicians took their places on the stage. Once they began tuning their instruments, Carlisle took my hand and pulled me back to the chairs he had positioned earlier.

We couldn't see much of anything from where we were. A few of the patrons in boxes across the way from us were visible, as long as they were sitting close to the railing, but for the most part we were cut off from the rest of the theater-goers.

It occurred to me exactly why he had placed us in this position when his arm slid around my waist and his cool lips pressed against my neck. He placed a few careful kisses along my throat as the first concerto began to play.

By the time the first movement ended, I had crawled into his lap, my arms wrapped around his neck. I was nipping his earlobe as he ran his hands gently over my back.

"Isabella," he breathed softly in my ear, "I need to tell you something very important."

"Mmm," I murmured absently, my lips moving behind his ear. His scent was strong here, and I breathed deeply, my tongue darting out to taste his skin.

I felt him shudder, and his arms tightened around me. "Are you listening to me?" he asked, a smile in his voice.

"Mm-hm." I followed the smooth line of his jaw, kissing and licking, loving the flavor of his skin. He didn't taste salty the way I would have expected, and it made me mildly curious as to whether vampires could sweat. It was a question I would ask . . . one of these days . . . when my mouth wasn't otherwise occupied.

"Good," he said, sounding a little breathless. "Because it's very important."

I licked my way down his neck. "I already know you're a blood-sucking monster," I teased. "How much bigger does it get?"

Carlisle pushed me back gently so he could look at me. "As much as I hate to stop you, it does get bigger than that."

I withdrew and folded my hands in my lap. "All right, I'll be a very good girl. What's your big revelation?"

His fathomless golden eyes stared into mine, and he cupped one hand under my chin. "Isabella Swan," he breathed, "I love you."

I froze.

"I've never felt for anyone the way I do for you," he continued, his words filling the chasm in my heart that I thought would always be empty. "For more than three hundred years I've lived half a life, learning and experiencing only a fraction of what this world has to offer because I didn't have you to share it with."

I just stared at him, warmed by his confession, but afraid of it. Afraid of what it meant. Exactly four people had told me they loved me: Charlie, Renee, Phil, and Jacob. Charlie had hit me. And Renee had, both literally and figuratively, looked the other way while Phil did much worse than hit me.

Did loving someone give you the right to hurt them? And if so, why did I crave it so badly? Why did it make me so happy to hear Carlisle say it?

His hand moved to stroke my cheek. "You are so precious to me, Bella. No matter what the future holds, I want you to know that I'll always be with you. I'll always keep you safe."

Fear and wonder battled for dominance inside of me. I didn't know how to handle his declaration. I didn't know what it meant for Carlisle to be in love with me. But I ached for it. Somehow, I was better for it. Having his love made me more than I had been before.

I couldn't speak.

A pained look crossed Carlisle's face when I didn't answer him, and I knew I needed to give him some sort of a response. I moved my hands to his shoulders, clinging to him and kissing him, pouring as much emotion into it as I could.

"No." He pulled away. "Bella, no." He removed my hands from his shoulders, taking them in his and pulling them up between us. "Don't just give me what you think I want. You're better than that."

He shifted me off of his lap and onto the chair beside him, putting a bit more distance between us. Though his body was colder than the air in the room, I shivered at the loss of contact. I didn't understand why he was pushing me away, or what he was asking of me.

"If you don't feel the same way, I understand," he said, a deep sadness in his eyes. "But I can't take advantage of you, Bella. I love you too much to hurt you like that."

"You're not," I blurted out, finally finding my voice. I tried to lean in to kiss him again but he put his hands on my shoulders, gently holding me back.

"Bella, please. I need you to hear me. I'm not looking for a tawdry fling, and I'm not trying to make you feel obligated to me in any way." He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, then rested his cool hand on my neck. "I'll look after you because I love you, not because I'm asking you for anything in return."

I furrowed my brow, confused. "I don't understand. You love me but you don't want me?"

He shook his head sadly and leaned his forehead against mine. "Bella," he whispered. "My girl. I want you more than I could ever say." His fingers stroked my neck lightly. "But I'm not willing to exploit you to get what I want."

I moved my hands under his suit jacket, rubbing his chest through his shirt. "I don't understand why you think I don't want you," I said, blushing a little at my own words.

He gave me a sad smile. "I suppose I had my heart set on something more than just a mutually beneficial arrangement."

I drew back from him, suddenly very intimidated by what he wanted from me. My instincts told me to protect myself, to keep my vulnerabilities hidden. That was how a girl like me survived. It was bad enough that I had let myself care about him enough that he could hurt me. To let him know that he had the power to hurt me . . . that was asking a lot.

"Carlisle, I—" I choked on the words.

"It's all right, sweetheart," he whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I expect nothing from you."

"No, please." I moved my fingers up, touching them to his lips. He was pulling away from me, and I couldn't stand it. This was Carlisle. I knew it was reckless to confess my feelings, but if I wanted to keep him, I had to do it.

"Carlisle, you're everything to me," I choked. "I need you."

"I'll always be with you," he murmured softly, his voice carrying a hint of melancholy. "You'll never be without protection again, I promise."

I stretched up to kiss him, but once again he put his hands on my shoulders and gently moved me back into my chair. "No Bella. I can't take your body without your heart."

My hands curled to fists, and I nearly growled in frustration at my inability to say the words that needed to be said. I wished he could just see it. For the first time, I wanted someone to be able to look inside my mind and know what I was feeling and what I was thinking.

"I almost died," I blurted out. "Tyler and his van nearly killed me. I hit my head, I got a concussion, I was humiliated in front of the whole school, and Edward was lying to me."

Carlisle was looking at me, confused.

"It was still the best day of my life, because I met you."

His confusion turned to surprise.

"It happened so fast for me," I told him. "I still don't understand it, and it still feels like too much to take." I took a deep breath, forcing out the words I needed him to hear. "I love you so much that sometimes I think I'll break."

His lips parted slightly as he drew in a shaky breath, a spark of hope in his eyes. "You're not just . . . telling me what I want to hear?"

I shook my head, swallowing hard. Now that I had said it, it was even more terrifying. He had power over me. He had always had power over me, of course, but now he knew it. He knew he could hurt me any way he wanted, and I would let him.

What had ever made me think this was a good idea? How in the world had I been so careless? I knew better than to show my hand like that.

But Carlisle didn't hurt me. At least, not yet. He wrapped his arms around me, drawing me back onto his lap, and his lips met mine in a fervent kiss. One hand plunged into my hair, drawing me impossibly closer, and his tongue tangled with mine almost desperately. Below us, the symphony played, the swelling music a perfect accompaniment to the rising passion in our secluded little box.

Carlisle pulled his hand from my hair, dragging it down my neck and my chest, lingering for just a moment over one breast before sliding it down my stomach and over my hip. He swept down my body until he reached the nylon stocking that covered my thigh, then slipped his hand under the hem of my dress. He began slowly inching it upward again, massaging as he went. I moved my lips from his to trail down his neck to the collar of his shirt, frustrated that I couldn't get any farther.

He let out a strangled moan as his hand reached the top of the stocking and his fingers grazed over bare skin. I felt him harden instantly against my hip. "Bella, you could drive a man mad wearing this," he choked , letting his hand run over the stretch of skin above my stockings. He moaned again when his fingertips grazed the lace of my panties, and he pushed up the skirt of my dress, his eyes exploring what his hands had discovered.

I glanced self-consciously across the dim theater at the other patrons in their boxes. They were looking at the stage or at their companions, but even if their eyes turned this way I doubted they could have seen us in our shadowy corner.

Carlisle's fingers traced the ribbons that held up my stockings, bringing my attention back to him. He slowly raised his eyes from my exposed leg and hip, dragging them up my body before settling on my face. The heat in them burned into me, and my breath caught in my throat.

"You may make history tonight as the first person ever to give a vampire a heart attack," he whispered.

I gave him a teasing grin and leaned in to nip at his bottom lip. "Does that mean you like it?"

He rocked his hips slightly, rubbing the solid bulge in his pants against my hip. "I think my preference for your clothing choice is evident," he murmured, running his nose lightly up my neck.

I tilted my head back to give him better access, goose bumps blossoming on my skin as his tongue swept up my throat in a long, sensual lick. "Should I be nervous that you seem to have such a fondness for that particular spot?"

He laughed softly, a low, provocative sound. "You don't need to worry about me thirsting for your blood, Bella," he assured me. "But I'm afraid I would go mad from hunger if you denied me the occasional taste of your ambrosial skin."

I shivered at the desire in his voice, all too aware of the slickness between my thighs. Carlisle's lips latched onto my throat, sucking gently just over the pulse point. Once again, I searched myself for fear and found none. I had no doubt that Carlisle wouldn't physically hurt me. It was only damage to my heart that I worried about.

He rocked his hips against me again, pressing his erection into my side, and I suddenly ached to feel it somewhere much more interesting. I pushed myself off Carlisle's lap and shifted so I was straddling him. The skirt of my dress rode up my thighs, and Carlisle sucked in a sharp breath as I settled onto his lap again, pressing my center against his rigid body.

"Bella," he gasped. His hands shoved up under the hem of my dress, grabbing my backside and jerking me hard against him. I hummed in longing at the pressure between my legs, rocking into him, aching to have him inside me, filling me.

I moaned quietly as Carlisle ground his hips against me, his fingers digging into my flesh as he clutched me to him. His thrusts matched the rhythm of the music being played by the oblivious orchestra below, and I moved with him, undulating against his body. One hand clutched at the hair on the back of his head as I met his urgent thrusts. I could feel the need coiling inside of me, crying out for more, building toward release.

One of Carlisle's hands released me and moved around my hip, sliding between us. I groaned in frustration as the steady motion of his hips ceased, but it quickly turned to pleasure when his fingers pressed against my mound, prodding eagerly. After a moment of delicious rubbing, his hand pushed back the lace of my panties and his fingers slipped underneath.

He glided his hand over my slick folds, and I buried my face in his shoulder to muffle the excited noises escaping from my throat. I shifted my position, trying to guide his fingers inside of me, but he just smiled and continued teasing me, pressing all around my entrance but never venturing further.

"Not fair," I panted against his shoulder.

"I agree," he murmured in my ear, his warm voice husky with desire. "Wearing something like this is utterly unfair, Bella. How am I supposed to treat you respectably when I know what you have on under that innocent-looking dress?"

"You're not," I gasped into his shoulder, trying again to maneuver myself onto his fingers. "Respectability is overrated."

"There was a time I might have disagreed with you . . . but having you here with me now, so warm and wet . . . Bella, I can't resist you."

Two cold fingers plunged into me, and I bit down on the heavy suit jacket that covered Carlisle's shoulders, choking back a scream. He pumped in and out of me insistently while his thumb worked my clit, driving me relentlessly toward my peak.

I needed more of him. I yanked at his tie to loosen it, then jerked open the buttons of his shirt, shoving aside his lapels and attacking his neck and shoulders with my mouth. I sucked at his cold, hard skin, relishing his taste, frustrated that I couldn't touch more of him. I let one hand move down his sculpted chest to slip between us, cupping over his solid erection and rubbing it through his pants.

He let out a strangled cry that might have been the beginnings of my name, before he bit it back. His hips rocked against my hand as his fingers worked my core. Again and again, his thrusts penetrated my body, his erratic breaths and my desperate whimpers mingling with the lilting sounds from the instruments below us, until finally, with a particularly hard thrust, he pushed me over the edge.

I tumbled into orgasm, biting my lip to keep from screaming out in the middle of the performance. Carlisle kept up his rhythmic movements, seeing me through wave after wave of intense pleasure. I clenched my teeth against the moans that threatened to escape my throat, not wanting to draw every usher in the building to our box, until I finally collapsed against him, exhausted but euphoric.

Carlisle drew his hand back and brought it to his mouth. He moaned longingly as he sucked my juices from his fingers. "You taste so sweet," he choked. "More." He gasped out the word, and before I really knew what was happening, he had spun me off of his lap into the chair beside him and had fallen to his knees in front of me. He pushed my legs apart and shoved my skirt up around my hips, burying his face between my thighs. He jerked my panties to the side and his tongue lapped eagerly at my wet folds, his lips sucking the slick fluid from my skin.

He moaned in pleasure, and the vibration sent shock waves through me. I caught my breath as his tongue continued to work the sensitive skin, and soon I was aching with need again. I plunged my hands into his hair, holding his head as I rolled my hips back and forth. The cool caress of his tongue sped up, flicking against my clit, and I once again found myself struggling not to cry out in ecstacy. My second release came quickly, and I clamped my thighs around Carlisle's head as he eagerly lapped up the cream between my legs, his tongue carrying me through another current of pulsing bliss.

I was sagging back in the chair when he was finally satisfied and his tongue stilled. He pushed himself off of the floor and into the chair next to me, a tight smile playing around his lips. He was breathing hard, and he ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every movement.

But I could take care of that.

I slid to the floor, kneeling in front of him, but when I reached for the buckle of his belt, his hands covered mine, stilling them. I looked up at him curiously, and he shook his head.

Of course, he wouldn't want me to feel obligated, but part of the beauty of sex was the mutual giving and receiving. And I very much wanted to give him something as incredible as he had given me.

"I want to," I told him.

"I'm sorry, Bella." He drew me up off of the floor and into his lap again. "I can't."

I was confused. I wondered briefly if vampires were somehow unable to have sex . . . but that couldn't be it, because I had heard his family casually refer to their own sex lives. "Why not?"

He pulled me against his chest, one hand guiding my head down onto his shoulder. I was close enough to him to feel all too well that he wasn't satisfied, and I wanted to fix that for him.

"It's not always easy to see at first just how much stronger we are than humans," he murmured. "All day every day, we have to hold back, to be very careful not to shatter everything and everyone around us. It becomes habit quickly enough, but if I were ever to lose control of myself . . ." He trailed off, shaking his head.

I pulled back to look at him, stunned. He was worried about hurting me during sex? I understood what he was saying, but it was all a little bit surreal. No one had ever worried about hurting me. In fact, it sometimes seemed that my pain was as much the goal as orgasm.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, stroking my hair gently.

"Um, okay," I said, shaking off the shock. "But I mean . . . you're really good at that. You never hurt me."

"That's because I haven't allowed myself to lose control."

I gave him a teasing smile, running my hand down his chest. "So . . . keep not allowing yourself to lose control."

He grabbed my hand, preventing it from reaching its destination.

"That's rather difficult," he said, swallowing hard. "With a woman as desirable as you, Bella, all I want to do is lose control."

I moved my hand away from his and slid it inside his jacket, rubbing his chest. "I trust you."

"I don't," he sighed. "It's extremely dangerous, sweetheart. A single moment of inattention could cost you your life."

I peppered the skin behind the open collar of his shirt with kisses. "You're not even willing to try?"

His fingers laced through my hair, stroking gently. "I've already pushed things much farther than I should have."

"But you're not satisfied." I nipped at his collarbone.

He gave a low growl in his throat, his hand coming up to hold the back of my head. "No, Bella. Satisfaction for me would require loss of control."

"Not all control," I argued my voice muffled by his skin as I placed open-mouthed kisses along his shoulder. "If I could keep from screaming just now, I think you could keep from doing whatever it is you're afraid you would do."

He stopped me, cupping his hands over my cheeks and pulling me back so he could look me in the eye. "I'm afraid of crushing you, Bella. Of holding you too tightly in that moment when all I can think of is being closer to you."

The concern in his eye was touching, but I wasn't quite ready to quit pressing my argument. "So keep your hands behind your back," I grinned, grabbing his wrists and pushing his hands behind his chair, bringing my body flush with his.

He groaned, burying his head in my hair.

I started to move to my knees again, but as soon as I let go of his hands, he wrapped his arms around my waist and trapped me against him.

"Perhaps this isn't the most appropriate venue to test my self-control."

I smiled, feeling triumphant. "Does that mean you're willing to test it somewhere else?"

"I'll consider it."

I grinned and gave him a quick kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Good. Now would you please quit distracting me? I'm trying to listen to listen to the concert."

His body shook as he laughed quietly, shaking his head. "My apologies, sweet girl. I've been terribly rude."

I straightened my dress to keep it from wrinkling too badly, and then buttoned up his shirt and tightened his tie. Once our clothes were put back in place I snuggled against his chest, laying my head on his shoulder and listening quietly to the beautiful sound of Dvorak's masterpieces—and the even more beautiful sound of Carlisle's quiet breathing.