A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.
Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine as well.
Seven Nights - Chapter 11
Day Five: Morning at Sea
I wake to whispered voices in the background, something like a cart being rolled, and the clinking of utensils that are being shuffled around as quietly as possible.
"Is there anything else I can get you, sir?"
"That should be it. Wait, are the scrambled eggs in there too? Those have been her favorite for the past couple of mornings."
"Yes, sir. An order of scrambled eggs, an omelet order, a side of french toast, a side of pancakes, sausage, bacon, tropical fruit, pastries, milk, orange juice, and a selection of cereals."
"Perfect." There's a sheepish chuckle. "I'd rather be safe than sorry. Here you go, buddy. Thanks a lot."
A few more murmured words, and then the sound of waves lapping gently against the ship's hull takes over. Motionless, and with my eyelids shuttered, it magnifies the gentle swaying of the ship, like a giant cradle rocking mildly at the hands of nature. There's a soft breeze fanning my bare shoulders and faint bands of light warming my face. Even better, sea droplets seem to leap through the balcony doors we left open last night to bestow wet kisses to my spine. Gauzily tracing my skin, they follow a warm path from my neck downward; head still foggy from sleep, it dawns on me admittedly slowly that the kisses are not sea droplets at all. They're too precise. They pause at each indentation in my spine, at each groove, and they're joined by warm breaths and a darting tongue.
Eyes still closed, I hug the fluffy pillow under me and smile. "Mmm. What a way to be woken."
Edward's chuckles reverberate against my spine, raising further goosebumps throughout my body.
"There's breakfast too."
"So I heard, though the brochure said only cold cereals, pastries, and juice were included in room service."
"You and your brochure," Edward snorts. "Did you sleep well?"
"How could I not sleep well in this room?" I reply in a raspy voice. "Edward, do me a favor please, and peek over at my phone."
"I hope you don't mind that I already did," he admits in a whisper, "and there are no messages."
For a second, I'm torn between indignation that he's peeked at my phone and gratitude that there are no messages...and that he knows me enough to peek at my phone.
"I don't mind. Thank you," I say when I determine that's the prevailing emotion. Then, I open my eyes.
A fiery, golden glow rises from the dark waters beyond the balcony. Various shades of blue and red compete for dominance, melding in the heavens, where one shade will emerge victorious and perhaps share the crown with a couple of others. All the while, the metamorphosis is caught by the breaking dawn, illuminated for the world to see.
"Cerulean," I breathe.
Edward hums a question against my skin.
"It's the shade that's going to win this morning; matter of fact, the shade that's won for the past five days: a perfect, cerulean blue."
"Mm." His lips are mid-spine now.
"Where I come from, the morning usually dawns in various shades of gray. When I was little, my friends and I would play a betting game. 'What shade of gray will the sky be tomorrow morning? Will it be white-gray, gray-gray, black-gray, a combination somewhere in between or will the sun actually peek through the mountains today?'"
"Sounds like a sad sort of betting game," he says, but I hear the amusement in his voice despite the way his mouth is muffled by my spine.
"It would sound that way to you," I smirk playfully, still gazing at the gorgeous view, "whose only guesses in Miami probably consist of 'Will it be a golden sunny day or a peachy sunny day?'"
"We have more variations than that," he counters. "Sometimes, it's a lemony sunny day."
Lifting my chest off the mattress, I pivot my head, but I can't quite swivel enough to meet his gaze. Nonetheless, his laughter confirms he caught my eye roll. When I drop down again, Edward resumes his kisses to my back.
"Tell me more about this betting game of your youth. What were the stakes?"
"It depended on who I was betting against as well as my age. In elementary school, if I bet a girl, the stakes were something like a notebook, or a pen, or who did whose homework. If it was a boy, it was something like a punch in the arm."
"Ouch. My dad would've killed me if he ever heard I'd punched a girl in her arm, even if we were elementary school age, and we'd made a bet."
I chuckle. "Now that I think about it, your dad probably raised you right. Sometimes some of those fuckers were vicious when I lost."
"Little fuckers," Edward agrees. "They're lucky I didn't grow up with you in Knives."
"Forks," I correct, knowing he's teasing.
"And how about during your high school years? What were the stakes then?"
"Well, if it was a girl, we'd bet something like a school lunch, a lipstick, or a pair of earrings."
After a few moments of silence, he stretches out over me, and something simultaneously warm and undeniably hard bobs against my spine. "And if you were betting a boy?" he prompts in my ear.
At my sideways look, he expels a chuckle and resumes his attentions to my spine. "So it was that kind of betting game."
"It was a small town, and we'd grow bored."
Again, he chuckles. "We'd play games like that too," he admits after a few moments, "though maybe more Miami-style. I kissed a boy once."
It's my turn to chuckle. "Did you really?"
"Mhm," he hums nonchalantly, his jaw now skimming my back.
"Like a real kiss? Was there tongue involved?"
"Yeah. Does that disgust you?"
"Not at all, but now I want to hear all about this."
Edward snorts. "I was ten and hanging out with Emmett. The kissing games began, and I figured if my big brother liked boys, maybe I did too. So, I kissed one, tongue and all."
"And how did that turn out for you?" I grin.
Again, he stretches out over me, nudging me purposely, even harder now. "What do you think?"
It's my turn to laugh.
"It was a mutual let down. By the way, the guy was Pete, who as you know, is now one of my best friends. Afterward, Emmett patted my shoulder and assured me that he still loved me and that he'd always have my back even if I was predictably and ordinarily straight."
I bury my face into the pillow to stifle my howls. When they die down, Edward returns his mouth to my back.
"It's part of growing up, I guess," he murmurs.
"Kissing various individuals until-"
"Until you find the last one you want to kiss. I'll tell you what, though; if those are the kind of bets you make, you're not stepping foot in the casino onboard this ship without me."
My back arches with the force of my laughter. "Look who's talking! Besides, I'm not much of a betting person anymore, Edward. Life kinda got real."
He's quiet for a moment. "Bella, you see that view outside?"
"Yes," I say slowly, smiling.
"That's real too, and you've got a way of always noticing it."
"Don't you notice it?" I ask.
Again, he doesn't reply right away. When he does, the first part of what he says is inaudibly breathed against my back. "...lately. So, is the view why you enjoy this room, Bella?"
"What else is there?" I tease.
"What else, indeed?"
"Well, there is this huge bed, the huge bathroom, the plush carpet, the balcony-"
"You're mentioning every place I've had you so far," he breathes, making butterflies dance in my stomach.
"Oh! The balcony hot tub-"
"Can't forget the balcony hot tub," he snorts, playing along. All the while, he hovers above me, with his hands splayed on either side of me and against the plush mattress, while his lips ghost lower down my vertebrae. He arrives at the base of my spine, where my body naturally curves upward, and when his mouth continues its exploratory path, I exhale a long, audible breath. His mouth and tongue brush wet kisses from one cheek to the other, back and forth, and the long list of his room's many amenities is forgotten. When the kisses end, and he palms and kneads my cheeks instead, I chuckle lowly.
"Oh, it seems the room comes with a masseuse as well."
"I don't know that I'd want a masseuse giving you this type of massage," he growls, making me laugh.
"So, no casino and no masseuse for me?"
"Only if I'm with you."
"Edward…" I squirm against the mattress, and when he stretches out on top of me once more, he rests the full breadth and weight of himself right against my bottom.
"What do you want, Bella?" he asks.
"You know what I want," I breathe. "Are you going to make me beg?"
"Never...but I do want to ask you something: Is it the room," he leans in and whispers in my ear, "or is it me you spend your nights here for?"
"Are we still on that subject?" I grin against the pillow, teasing him.
He chuckles and crouches, positioning himself. My heart races with eager anticipation.
"Answer me."
"Is that supposed to be a threat, Edward? Because as thick and hard as that is, I've been wanting it ohhh…"
He pushes in, and the bottom half of my body instinctively arches like a bow, outward and upward. We both cry out at the directness of the angle, and without preamble, he begins a rhythmic grind. My chest rests against the mattress and my bottom is lifted up, and like this, every thrust is magnified a thousandfold. It's a position so different from every other way I've ever done this...and it's magnificent.
Or is it magnified and magnificent because of who-
My train of thought is eradicated when Edward slips an arm under my stomach and lifts my upper frame off the mattress as well, so that I'm on my hands and knees, supporting myself with palms flat on the bed. On his knees behind me, Edward's muscular front thighs press against my back thighs as he grunts in time with his thrusts, hands gripping my hips, guiding me back and forth.
"God, Edward…" I rock and push against him, "Edward…I've never…like this…never…"
"Me neither, baby. Never, never like this." He leans in and hisses in my ear. "You were supposed to answer my question first, Bella. Do you sleep here because of the room or because of me?"
"Wha…?" I'm bewildered for a moment, but then I laugh despite what we're doing. "The room."
"Yeah? The room, you obstinate-" He drives in fast and deep, and my laughter morphs into a high-pitched sound I don't think I've ever made. I can't even feel embarrassed when it echoes through the balcony and drifts out into the sea. For a second, I imagine other ships passing by, picking up the sound on their radars, and wondering who and what made it. But again, all thoughts evaporate when he slips an arm around my waist and lifts me again so that now I'm sitting astride his lap, with my damp back against his sweaty chest and our connection more intense than ever. Anchoring my hands on his sinewy thighs, I cry out as I feel him in ways I've never felt anyone, as sensations so fiercely acute concentrate themselves in places that take away my breath.
Breathless, I throw my head back onto his shoulder. "Edward…Edward…"
"You like it like this, Bella?" he asks, his voice rough in my ear.
"Yesss...I love it like this...Edward...I...I love-"
My eyes round into circles, startling myself with the words that almost popped out, slipped out in what's obviously a haze of lust.
"What, Bella?" Firmly yet carefully fisting the hair at my nape, he guides my head sideways, holding my gaze through dark, lust-filled eyes of his own. "What do you love? Tell me," he almost demands.
"I...I..." I quickly cover up my mistake with a throaty chuckle. "I love this position."
Something flickers in his eyes before his top lip curls. "Yeah?" he grits, "You love this position?" Still gripping my hair, he angles my head, licking and sucking on my neck, while he molds his other hand around one breast then the other. My mouth falls open. All the while, Edward's hips rock fluidly, swaying our joined bodies sinuously, almost serpentine while the scent and sound of us become our cocoon.
"Edward, Edward…"
"Is it the room or is it me, Bella?"
For a fraction of a moment, the question feels layered; as if somewhere along the way, it got mixed in with other discussions, with other words and meanings. But I'm so close...too close to think.
"Room."
"Stubborn…" Curving his hands around my hips, Edward lifts then jerks me down hard and fast, lifts and jerks me down. I'm able to withstand this for all of a handful of times before I give in.
"It's you, Edward! Oh God, it's you…it's you…you…you…"
Halfway through my euphoria, Edward's hips buck, and he pitches forward, one arm circling my waist and holding me prone against him while the other arm shoots out, hand flattening against the mattress and fisting the covers as he keeps us from falling on our faces. He expels a long and loud groan before his extended arm gives, and we fall sideways on the bed.
For a long while, he holds me against him, slackened inside me, yet despite all we've done in the past few days, it's feeling him like this that feels the most intimate, the most...tender. As his strong frame quivers with periodic aftershocks behind me, still coming down from its high, he seems so...vulnerable. I find myself wishing we could-
I catch myself wishing, thank goodness.
It's only a seven-day cruise.
I know this, just as I've known from the very beginning that this is just sex. How fucking greedy of me to dare to want more than seven perfect days and nights with a wonderful, intelligent, interesting, and talented man who talks to me about anything and everything, who listens to me raptly when I'm talking about anything and everything, who laughs with me and teases me, and who treats me like a friggin' modern-day princess in a friggin', modern-day fairy tale? And we have the best fucking sex imaginable to boot? Kate and Meghan can't possibly have it this good.
And all of it combined can't possibly be reality off of a cruise ship. It's too perfect, and perfection - whether it be perfect weather, a perfect man, a parent's perfect health - never lasts. So, what's the damn point in wishing for more than the reprieve this vacation is giving me? We have two and a half days left before the ship docks and we return to reality, and there's no point in ruining the rest of the cruise for myself by turning it into more.
Damn.
Fuck.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my body stiffening with dread when it hits me:
In that mental list I've just ticked off, not only was 'the best fucking sex imaginable' not the only item on the list...it was the last item.
I've already turned it into more.
All the while, Edward's warm and heavy breaths, interspersed with soft kisses, bathe my damp neck. His hands weave through mine and rest on my stomach, stroking my skin softly.
No further. Do not let yourself get carried away any further, I command myself. He never promised you anything more, you never asked for more, and you don't need or have the time for anything more beyond this cruise.
With my first reminder already a big fail, I set up these secondary reminders just in time, right before Edward pulls out, and carefully flips me over. He cradles my face, and when our gazes meet, his sea-green eyes sparkle, an ebullient smile already lighting up his handsome features. But in the next moment, the smile falters. He appears to search my eyes, something flickering behind his gaze...and two seconds later, the smile completely leaches.
"I thought..."
"What?" I frown. "What happened, Edward?"
He removes his hands from my face, shaking his head and raking a hand through his tousled hair. "No. Nothing." He snorts. "I thought I saw...or heard..."
When my frown deepens, Edward smiles again, but this smile doesn't seem to quite reach his eyes.
"Never mind, Bella," he murmurs, coolly kissing my nose then my forehead. "I guess I went about things..." Drawing in a deep breath, he expels the air heavily into the tight space between us. "Why don't we just take a nap? We're at sea today, and we can sleep in a bit if you'd like. Breakfast should keep warm for a while, and then we can wake up, eat...and do nothing but fuck around for the rest of the day and night."
Though I was famished just a few seconds earlier, my appetite is completely gone now. More than the disconcertingly cold plans, his impassive tone makes my heart drop to my feet. I feel my eyes sting, and using the excuse of a nap, I shut them quickly.
"Okay, yeah. Good idea. Let's take a nap so we can fuck around for the rest of the day and night."
For a long while, I keep my eyes shut, fighting against the instinct to open them and confirm whether it's just my imagination, or if his eyes are still on me. I'm not sure how much time has passed when I finally give in and open my eyes, but now his are shut. I wait, vowing to myself that if he opens his eyes in the next couple of minutes, I'll...I'll...
I'll what?
Either way, the internal debate becomes moot when Edward's lips part and a quiet snore emanates from his nostrils, bare chest rising and falling in long, even breaths.
And for the first time, a disturbing thought hits me, a niggling fear in the pit of my belly that by hooking up so quickly with Edward, something went off track, and not only have I extinguished any chance of this cruise vacation being one of total, uncomplicated relaxation...but that I may actually not escape this ship unscathed.
OOOOO
At nine-ish in the morning, Edward and I step off the elevators on the Lido deck.
A nap and some breakfast seem to have done us both some good. Whatever strange fear gripped me earlier is more or less gone, or at the very least pushed back into the recesses of my mind. The sun is shining, the music on deck is pumping, everyone around us is laughing, and Edward weaves his fingers through mine, smiling at me with his eyes once more, kissing me softly, that disturbing coolness and impassivity that appeared after we had sex apparently pushed away as well.
There are three left; there's no point in dwelling on puzzling or disconcerting moments.
"Edward, Bella! Over here!"
Charlotte waves us down, but when Edward begins moving us toward his group, who are gathered in deck chairs by the jam-packed pool, at the same spot where I met up with them three days ago - God, I can't believe it's only been four days since I met Edward - my feet remain rooted.
Edward turns around. "What's wrong?"
"It's just...I feel bad about yesterday, how drunk and then sick Irina got. I don't want her to think that we're purposely-"
He moves in closer, eyes on me while half-naked men and women bump into us. "Bella, we're not purposely doing anything to her, but neither do I think we should have to pretend on top of everything else."
"What do you mean on top of-"
"What are you two doing just standing here?" Emmett asks, coming up behind Edward and shoving him. Edward pitches forward slightly, raking his hair, his eyes remaining on mine. "We've got chairs for you both! Though I know you guys wouldn't mind sharing one, this deck's way too packed for you two to pull that freaky-freaky you pulled on Ed-" - he coughs - "on the yacht yesterday. Know what I mean?" he snickers.
My eyes remain locked on Edward's as I reply to Emmett. "I just...I don't want to-"
"Irina's not here this morning," Emmett says, "if that's what you're discussing."
Both of us look at him.
"Hey, I ain't stupid," he says. Then, as he leads the way, Edward wraps an arm around my shoulder, kissing my temple.
"Sorry for my attitude," he mouths.
Though he apologizes, I see the frustration clouding his eyes. It's similar to the frustration I'm feeling as I merely nod in reply.
It turns out, Irina did spend time vomiting last night. Then, she woke up with a mean hangover and elected to spend the morning in her room and out on her own balcony. Carmen tells the story while we sip our drinks.
"Serves her right, and I'm her best friend. If a guy doesn't want you when you're sober, he's not gonna want you when you're drunk, no matter how naked you are or how much you throw yourself at him. Unless he's an asshole," she qualifies, pointing her beer bottle at both Charlotte and me. "If he doesn't want you when you're sober but he wants you when you're drunk, then he's an asshole. Now, on the other hand," she says, obviously already a bit drunk herself, "If he wants you when you're sober but won't have you when you're drunk, he's a good guy."
"So, how about if he wants you when you're drunk and when you're sober?" Charlotte wonders, also somewhat drunk.
"Oh, my God, that one's a keeper," Carmen laughs. "Especially if you're a drunk like me. One time, I got so drunk that Eli had to..."
While she continues her story, my eyes stray to Edward. He's sitting a couple of deck chairs away, in some sort of deep discussion with Emmett, it appears. But his eyes are on me. I think back to that night, just a few short nights ago, when I threw myself at him both drunk and willing. He could've easily had me.
Edward made us wait.
When Edward winks at me, I offer him a smile, sipping thoughtfully on my drink.
OOOOO
Pool games ensue.
"All right, Bella, but if I do this, you're going to have to enter the Towel-folding Contest this afternoon."
"Ugh. Deal."
At Brit Cruise Director Jessica's urging, coupled with Charlotte, Carmen, and my relentless insistence, all the guys in our group enter the poolside 'Sexiest Guy Contest.' They compete against a handful of other guys, and all of them are made to strut around the pool, wiggle their hips, flex their muscles, and otherwise embarrass the ever-living hell out of themselves while cheesy music plays in the background, and the rest of us roar with laughter, snapping picture after picture.
At one point, while Jessica gleefully counts the number of packs that appear on Edward's stomach by needlessly stroking every single one, Charlotte turns to me in between her chortles.
"You know, he's only doing this because you're here, Bella, and because you asked him."
"He agreed because I agreed to embarrass myself at the Towel-folding contest later."
"Pfft," she snorts. "The rest of us have always offered to embarrass ourselves along with him, but he's always refused to join the Sexiest Guy Contest."
"But Bella asked nicely," Charlotte says.
They both laugh, and yeah, they're mocking us, but not in a mean way.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Jessica announces over the throng of screaming passengers watching the show from lido deck and crowding the railings on the two decks above us, "Edward here has not a six, not a seven, but an eight bloody pack! Bloody brilliant, and you, mate, should feel properly chuffed!"
Meanwhile, Edward's face is scarlet. He offers the crowd a sheepish smile they eat up, roaring so loudly I'm sure they're scaring the fish.
Nonetheless, and to Jessica's startled and none-too-disguised disappointment, Emmett wins the contest.
"Bloody hell, are you all sure you want to pick him over his perfect specimen of a brother?" she asks the crowd, who chooses the winner based on how loudly they clap and shout.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Emmett roars. "The tribe has spoken, and my little brother here's been voted off!"
Everyone howls, and when Garrett approaches his husband and crushes his mouth to Emmett's, calling out, "He's taken, bitches!" the catcalls and whistles are deafening.
And when Edward returns to me, he picks me up off the deck and crushes me to him, and we laugh and laugh.
"I lost."
"Who cares? That was bloody brilliant!" I tease in a British accent.
OOOOO
A bit past noon, Edward and I arrive at the Outdoor Sports Deck on the fourteenth floor.
Jasper is impatiently waiting for us, shuffling from foot to foot and wearing his usual, endearing frown. Meanwhile, Alice happily grins our way.
"Edward, Bella!" She greets us with a kiss and her familiar excitement as if she's known us for decades and hasn't seen us for years.
"Where were you?" Jasper grumbles at Edward. "We agreed on quarter after twelve!"
"It is quarter after twelve, sir," Edward smiles.
"It's twelve-sixteen! Damn young kids nowadays can't even tell time!"
"I apologize, sir. You're correct; it's twelve-sixteen," Edward grins. We share a look, pressing our lips together.
"Hmph," Jasper harrumphs.
"Oh, Jasper." With a wave of her hand, Alice dismisses her husband's usual grumpiness. "They're right on time, and you should be grateful that handsome, young, and virile Edward agreed to this. I'm sure he'd much rather be in a quiet corner with beautiful Bella, kissing her passionately." She sighs and offers us one of her impish smiles, and now we do chuckle.
"Oh, sweetheart, I remember what it's like. What is it that they call them nowadays? Nooners, is it?"
"For the love of God, can we cut the babbling and get to it! We'll be late!" He waves a hand rapidly, gesturing us forward.
"Yes, sir," Edward says. For some reason, his patience with Jasper warms me all over.
We walk together in a row, Jasper to Edward's left and Alice to my right.
"Now, when we start, pay attention to me, young man, because I know all of that cheater Ben Cheney's tells."
"Yes, sir."
"When he pulls on his ear, he's planning something dirty, and when he..."
While Jasper continues ticking off muttered instructions, Alice turns to me.
"Your young man is so wonderful to do this for my grumpy Jasper." The way she gazes at Edward makes me chuckle.
"It's no problem, Alice. He's happy to do it, though he's not my young man."
Alice's eyes jerk away from Edward and flash to me. "Oh, he's so obviously yours, honey, it's as plain as the tropical sun in the sky!"
I stare at her.
"Sweetheart, you just have to reach out and-"
"Alice, I need you to save your breath so you can blow on my balls and give 'em good luck!" Jasper demands.
He's standing by the ping-pong table, where he and Edward will be partnered in the afternoon Ping-pong tournament. Somehow, after the four of us won last night's trivia, it came up in conversation that Edward once won a high-school ping-pong tournament. At that point, he became Jasper quasi best friend, and Jasper more or less demanded that Edward partner with him for today's Cruise Ping-Pong Tournament.
Edward agreed with a smile.
Alice shuffles over with a flirtatious smile and blows on her husband's ping-pong balls.
I look up at Edward. "You want me to blow on your balls?"
"Oh yeah," he grins wickedly and winks, throwing a couple of ping-pong balls up in the air and catching them. "But not these balls, so maybe later."
We're still laughing when Jasper calls Edward to attention. "Doggone it! Stop letting that girlie distract you and pay attention, young man! Ben Cheney is partnering with Sam Uley, and while Sam is a scrub, Cheney's gonna be harder to beat, that damn cheater! Now here comes the judge!"
"Edward," Jessica exclaims happily, "you're here now? This is shaping up to be a bloody brilliant sea day! Are you and your partner ready?"
"Yes, ma'am," Edward agrees before turning to Jasper calmly and respectfully. "Uhm, though I do have one condition before we begin."
"Condition!" Jasper echoes, the veins in his forehead popping as he slams a fist against the ping-pong table. "No one said nothing about no condition! What darn condition?"
"Jasper, just listen to his condition. What is it, honey?"
"Edward?"
"Nothing big, sir. Just something very minor." Edward clears his throat. "If we win, sir, I'd like to ask that Alice and you both tell Bella and me the full and complete story of how you ended up together...and how you finally made it work."
A/N: Thoughts?
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