Chapter 39
BPOV
Could there to be too much brilliancy? Too much beauty? I didn't think so, but it could be a little too profound for a single instant. Beautifully fragile, as if it could shatter with the barest of touches, too perfect to be real.
When Edward took my hand to help me climb from the boat and onto the most beautiful place I'd ever seen, the feeling rushed over me with such vibrancy I was momentary overtaken by it.
Isle Esme was a breathtaking paradise.
It was nearly midday and the sun was warm and bright, the rays touching the most perfect, smooth, white sand I'd ever seen, the crystal-clear water lapping gently at the shore where we stood. I could see a large, white, modern-looking house with tall glass windows set a ways back from the shore. It faced the beach, with the remaining three sides surrounded by palm trees and greenery. Behind the house I could see what looked like a vast jungle.
It wasn't just the scenery.
It was him. It was always him. It would always be him.
His skin was sparkling as brightly as the sand as he stood beside me. We'd had to rent a car with tinted windows and drive from the airport to a remote docking location where the boat had been waiting.
My arms went around his waist, my forehead touching his chest, and my heartbeat felt slow and long and full.
"Too much?" he murmured.
I shook my head, a useless attempt, because he already knew, had predicted this, had suggested multiple times we not make plans for our honeymoon, had told me coming here wasn't necessary. He'd known, better than I, the reaction it would have on me.
It didn't matter.
I took a step back. "It's...so beautiful," I managed.
His eyes touched mine with a sensitivity that caught in my chest and lingered long after. "I'm glad you like it," he said.
He collected our luggage from the boat.
"Ready?" he asked once his hands were loaded with our three suitcases and the question was loaded with so much more.
My stomach hummed with nerves, but I dug the toe of my shoe into the sand, smiled, and nodded.
We reached the front door of the house, and I stopped. I smiled cheekily at him, feeling braver. "Aren't you going to carry me over the threshold?"
Edward's answering grin was dazzling. He became a blur of motion, disappearing inside with our bags and re-appearing faster than my eyes could follow. Then he swept me up into his arms.
I squealed and grabbed his shoulders. Edward was laughing, and my heart burst into song, so rich and full was the sound of it.
Shouldering open the door, he carried me inside and waited for my reaction to the interior.
I wasn't looking at our surroundings. I was looking at him.
Then I was kissing him. Hard. And he was kissing me back. My hands were in his hair, my fingers sliding through the silky strands, easily accessible now that he still held me up in his arms. Then I was gripping his shoulders as I broke away, swallowing hard. Tearing my eyes away from the intensity of his own, I focused on our surroundings once more—to recover myself. "Wow," I said, a bit breathlessly.
"My sentiment exactly," he answered, but he was still looking at me.
His shoulders felt hard and glorious beneath my hands, and a powerful rush of nervous anticipation swamped my stomach. When my eyes unwittingly flicked skittishly back to his face, his features softened and he placed me carefully back down on my feet. Crap. He knew. Of course he did.
"You must be tired," he said. "Would you like to sleep for a bit? Then we can do some exploring."
He knew. He was being kind again.
"That...sounds good." I tried to mentally shake away my awkwardness. Chill, Bella.
Edward smiled easily. "This way I can take a look around the island first, inspect the terrain for potential hazards before we chance you," he teased.
He was trying to distract me.
It was working.
I shoved at his arm. "Not funny."
He grinned.
"I'm sure it's very safe," I said dryly.
"Mostly."
I rolled my eyes. Then I thought of something. "Um, what about hunting?"
He frowned slightly. "I'll have to go to the mainland for that. If I need to."
Right. He'd already gone just before the wedding.
The wedding. Married. We were married.
I shuffled awkwardly again. Looked around the large space. We stood in an open living area complete with a sofa, loveseat, and two armchairs. It was delightfully decorated, modest but homey with bright colors. I could sense Esme's touch in the little details—the throw cushions, the area rug, the ornate lamp, the paintings on the wall. I could see into a full-sized kitchen and dining room that adjoined the living space. Not unlike the Cullen home in Forks, this house was characterized by bright open spaces with large glass windows.
"It's rather large, isn't it?" Edward commented.
"It's wonderful. Esme must love it here."
He smiled. "She does." He gestured toward the staircase leading to the upper level. "Shall we?"
I bit my lip and nodded.
Edward picked up the suitcases and followed behind me.
I should have expected it by now.
Apparently not.
I was not prepared for the master bedroom.
It was massive. The room was decorated in a soft white and the entire back wall was glass overlooking the beach with a walk-out patio that had stairs leading down into the sand—into paradise. The ocean was an expanse of sparkling blue. There was an en suite bathroom.
And the bed.
The bed.
It was massive.
"It is a bit much," Edward allowed, and I realized I was staring. At the bed. Ordered myself to stop. Swallowed.
"You can't beat the view, though," he continued.
I finally tore my eyes away from the bed. "Um, nope. Can't beat the view," I echoed. "Definitely not. It's the best. Wonderful." You can stop talking now, Bella.
Edward set down the bags. When he straightened he was looking at me. Staring. And there were those butterflies in my stomach, whirling, twirling.
"I'll leave you to it then," he said. He turned to leave.
I unfroze. My feet lurched forward. I caught his arm. When he turned back to face me I stood on my toes and kissed him. It was slow. Sweet. He leaned back, then bent to kiss me again. Softly. He touched my cheek. Looked at me some more. Then he left the room.
I moved lethargically back to the center of the room. Collapsed backward onto the enormous bed.
Shower first.
Then sleep.
Then...
One step at a time, Bella. One step at a time.
I awoke disoriented. Slowly, I came back to awareness. The wedding. The plane. Isle Esme.
Married. I was married.
On an exotic island. Alone. With Edward. My husband.
My heart flip-flopped in my chest. Was he still officially my husband if we hadn't consummated the marriage yet? A silly, old-fashioned tradition, but still.
We would fix that. Soon. Today. Tonight.
My stomach buzzed. I ignored it.
It would be tonight, right? Or would it be sooner? It was normally the evening after the wedding (plane trips notwithstanding), wasn't it?
Tonight. Tonight made sense. Edward had said we would do some exploring of the island immediately after my nap, hadn't he?
Speaking of, what time was it? I checked my watch; I'd already adjusted it ahead to local time. It was 3:42 pm. Wow. I'd slept for over 3 hours! That was good. Wouldn't want to be tired. Not tonight.
The buzzing in my stomach became more insistent. I told it to calm the heck down.
I sat up and looked around the room. Edward was no where to be seen. He was likely either downstairs somewhere or he was out combing the island for dangerous hazards. I grinned stupidly at the thought. Well. I'd get ready first. I was currently dressed in the long robe I'd found in the en suite bathroom after showering. It was thankfully air-conditioned inside, since it was definitely hotter than I was used to outside.
I climbed from the bed and went rummaging through my suitcase for something to wear. It was nice to be able to wear summery clothes. I rarely got the opportunity in Forks. I selected a cute, short-sleeved peasant top with jean shorts and flat, comfortable sandals. Once dressed, I went to the bathroom to check my hair. The heat and humidity wasn't doing it any favors. I pulled it back into a pony tail. Then changed my mind and pulled out the elastic. Stared at my reflection. Edward liked my hair. Thought it was beautiful. Down it was, then.
I left the bathroom.
Okay, now what? Where was Edward?
How about you go downstairs and look, dummy?
Right. Okay. I'd just go downstairs.
I found him standing in the living room staring out the window at the ocean. He could have been a statue, he was so still. When he turned to face me as I came down the stairs, it was the first time since we'd arrived that I sensed something in him that was less than perfectly put-together. Just for an instant.
He smiled at me. "Feeling more rested?" he asked.
I just nodded, because my feet were busy closing the distance between us. I wrapped my arms around his waist, and, yep, there it was—the barest hint of hesitation as his arms came around me. He was nervous, too.
That was not acceptable. This was perfect. We were perfect. I leaned up and kissed his jaw. "So what's the verdict? Dangerous animals? Poisonous vegetation? Or am I free and clear?"
"I wouldn't say free and clear when it's you were talking about," —I rolled my eyes at this—"but it's probably safe to say the risk is minimal. Just steer clear of the more overgrown areas."
I frowned. "Why?"
He grimaced. "There are some snakes around. Harmless, most of them, but best to avoid wouldn't you agree?"
I paled. "Snakes?"
He sighed. "I suppose I shouldn't have told you that. Here I was thinking that after vampires snakes would be a walk in the park for you."
When I didn't respond he peered at my face more closely, his brows pulling together as he realized I was genuinely afraid. He tugged me against his chest. "You know I'd never let a snake hurt you."
I nodded.
He turned my face upward in his hand. "I don't plan on letting you out of my sight anyway. Forget I mentioned it."
"Okay."
He smiled and kissed the tip of my nose. "It really is beautiful here. I think you'll love it."
It was beautiful.
The problem was, well, you know what was looming.
Edward must have noticed my distraction because we didn't even finish exploring the whole island before he was taking me back to the house and cooking me spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. We sat at the dinning room table where Edward had lit two candles. He was sitting across from me, watching me eat. I could only eat half of it—maybe less.
"Not hungry?" Edward asked when I finally gave up trying and put down my knife and fork.
I shook my head.
Edward stood, blew out the candles, collected my plate, wrapped up the leftovers and placed them in the fridge. Then he was standing beside my chair and holding out his hand. "It's sunset," he said, and I was idiotically wondering if that was supposed to mean something—distracted as I was—when he drew me to my feet and led me outside.
Then I understood.
In shades of pink, yellow and orange, the bright globe of the setting sun leaving a vivid trail of gold down the center of the ocean, it was the most beautiful sunset I'd ever seen. There was something so comforting, watching the display of nature slowly transform.
Edward wrapped his arms around me from behind and we stood there, watching the sun gradually edge downward until it disappeared, leaving a brilliant trail of colors in its wake before fading completely.
We stood there long after it had disappeared.
It was time.
I knew what I wanted.
Even if I was scared.
"Edward?" I said, finding my courage. "I don't want to play board games."
He went still. Drew in a breath and pressed his face into my hair. Loosened his arms around me, and turned me around, eyes latching onto mine, assessing carefully. "Are you sure?" he asked, and there was that kindness again, in his question, in his eyes.
I nodded.
He kept looking at me, still assessing my certainty.
A piece of my confidence slipped. "Only...only if you want to, of course."
"Don't be absurd," he said, the softness in his voice dispelling any harshness of the words. "You know I want you."
"I want you too," I told him, and there was a noticeable reaction in him; a darkening in his eyes. "I...I don't want to wait anymore."
His thumb traced the outline of my jaw, the touch causing my heart to flutter hopelessly.
I fumbled, "I, um...I'd like a few human minutes, to...to change?" I wasn't sure why I was phrasing it as a question.
He kissed me gently on the lips, then drew back. "Of course," he said. "Take all the time you need."
I had to focus very carefully so as not to trip over my own feet as I climbed the outside patio steps to the door of the master bedroom. Our bedroom. Gathering myself, I stepped inside and turned on the standing light beside the bed, which provided a soft glow that wasn't too harsh. Then I opened my suitcase to find what I was looking for. It was near the top. I took it with me into the bathroom. I managed to change without slipping into a full-on panic. Only just.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My pounding heart was echoing in my ears. I wore a silky white chemise. It was from the bridal section of the store. Fancier than the first chemise I'd worn, embellished with delicate ivory sequins. More revealing too, with low-cut triangle cups, a plunging back, and shorter in length, barely reaching past my backside. At least it did cover everything and the triangle cups were lightly lined rather than mesh or a sheer material. I fussed unnecessarily with my hair, arranging it around my shoulders. Checked again that I was wearing the matching lace white panties underneath the chemise and not something else. Checked that I had indeed shaved my legs earlier. Checked...there must be something else I needed to check first, right? I couldn't be ready already, could I?
Crap, I wasn't ready.
I couldn't do this.
What was I going to do now? I would have to go out there and tell him I wasn't ready after all. How embarrassing. How awful. How—
No.
I wanted this.
I wanted him. I wanted him so much.
I could do this. It was going to be fine. More than fine. I was okay. I could do this. I loved him so much. It had to be okay. It had to.
I sucked in a full breath. Opened the bathroom door. Closed it again. Opened it. I can do this. I can do this. I stepped into the bedroom. Stood there. My heart pounded against my chest like a caged animal. Where was he? Outside. He must still be outside. Should I call to him? Go outside? I took an uncontrolled step back. Turned. Fight or flight—the flight was winning.
Then he was there.
He stood in the open doorway, wearing Bermudas and a button-up shirt—he hadn't changed—and I could hear the sound of the ocean waves lapping against the shore outside behind him. He stepped inside the bedroom and slid the door closed behind him.
He was so perfect I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't think. It was only by looking at his face that I could recognize how scared I must have looked, because when his eyes stopped on mine there was that kindness there once more.
He'd never know how grateful I was that he didn't ask me again if I was sure. Not because I wasn't, but because I was both sure and so terrified I could scarcely breathe or think, which made no sense at all. Because I wanted him to try. Because I wanted him to make it okay.
He started walking toward me—slowly—and he was so tall and big and masculine that suddenly I was in full-out panic. What was I thinking? I couldn't do this. I didn't know what I was doing. I was not normal. There were too many ways it could go wrong. What if I couldn't satisfy him? What if I couldn't—? What if—
"Easy there," he murmured, and his hands were rubbing my arms, up and down, up and down. He'd reached me.
My heart was crashing into my ribs so quickly it was a wonder they didn't crack open.
His lips touched my forehead gently. "It's just me, sweetheart," he said, voice soft, and if I'd had even the smallest of doubt left it disappeared then.
Him.
Only him.
He drew back to look at me, and a smile ghosted across his lips. "There now, you see," he said. "Nothing to be afraid of."
I choked out a sound, but I gripped his shirt, needing to hold onto him—as if something might break if I didn't.
He took my face in his hands then, and his eyes were serious. "If you need me to stop, if I...if I hurt you at all, tell me immediately and I'll stop—I swear to you, I will stop."
I gathered more of his shirt in my fist. "I know," I rasped.
"You look beautiful, by the way."
I drew in a shaky breath. "Thanks."
He traced the outline of my lips with his fingertip. "We'll take it slow, all right?"
I nodded.
He smiled at me gently, then lifted me into his arms.
I clutched his neck.
He carried me over to the enormous bed and placed me against the numerous pillows, on top of the sheets, then settled in beside me, stretching out his long frame.
I lay stiff. What now? How did one initiate things like this?
His eyes travelled over the length of me, and I felt very self-conscious. Shy. The chemise felt too short, too low in the chest. "Do you like it?" I blurted idiotically, pulling at the silky material.
"Very much," he answered, and his lips tugged upward. "You have no idea."
My pale skin went blotchy with my blushing, and darn it, why did I have to be so awkward? He wasn't. He looked calm. Didn't seem nervous. Well. It was just as well. I was nervous enough for the both of us. Times three. Or four. Maybe five.
He leaned over me.
Strike that, it was six.
Seven.
"Easy now," he muttered again—my heart rate had tripled. Then he captured my lips in his, slow but not at all tentative, and I was trying so hard to order my ridiculous nerves to calm the heck down, for the love of god, so that I could just completely feel what was all degrees of wonderful, but there was too much, too much to anticipate. His hand came up to touch my face, trying to calm me, trying to get me to relax, but the movement caused his body to shift above me, drawing further attention to the substantialness of this, of him, and what it was leading to.
After a moment Edward drew back. "I'm not doing my job very well, am I?"
I blinked. His job?
Oh.
Right.
Our conversation.
His job to relax me.
Yeah right.
"I'm sorry," I said miserably. Anger and frustration rose in me. I was ruining it. Probably already had. My heart seized.
"It's all right." His eyes crinkled as he looked at me and something moved in my chest. "We have all night."
My heart went to my throat. He wasn't stopping. He was going to keep on trying. Was it possible for me to love him more than I did right then? I didn't think so.
He kissed my forehead, my eyelids, my jaw, then lingered on my lips, and the sweetness of it, the attention he was taking trying calm me, was what did it. I tugged his face down as I responded to his kiss, and my change of pace drew a sound from the back of his throat that shot straight through me. He wanted me. His patience wasn't as easy for him as he made it appear—he was kissing me back a little less carefully now, and I loved him so, so much that every cell in my body ached for it. For him.
Then I was paying more and more attention to where his hands were moving. Thinking where they would be going. Thinking where this was leading. Thinking I had no idea what I was doing and what would happen next. Thinking—
"Stop that," Edward muttered against my neck.
"W—what?" I sputtered.
"Stop thinking so much."
"I—but—you can't—"
"No," he admitted, "but yours just happen to be screaming very loudly." He lifted his head, smiling gently at me.
I flushed.
He smoothed back my hair. "No more of that," he murmured.
"Okay," I whispered.
His fingers ghosted over my bare shoulder, down my arm, and back up again, and I felt a summersaulting in my gut. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted him to touch me everywhere.
He pressed his lips to my throat, and the need I felt then had my body surging upward. At the contact, Edward's hands moved into the gap I'd created between me and the mattress while he pulled me more securely against him. He lifted me vertical, my legs going around him. My hands tugged at his back, not knowing exactly what I needed, but knowing that I needed. He gripped my waist with both hands, then slid them upward, and when his thumb brushed against the side of my breast, I gasped at the new and unfamiliar territory—intentional or otherwise I wasn't sure. Didn't care. His hands reached the straps of my chemise on my shoulders and stopped. He pulled back to look at me and I knew what he was asking. My heart thumped erratically against my chest, and a knot of something else formed in my gut, but I nodded.
He kissed my collarbone, then my shoulder. Then he carefully slid the straps of my chemise off my shoulders so that the silky fabric pooled at my waist, exposing my breasts. My heart convulsed and stopped. It was all I could do not to cover myself with shame.
The back of his fingers grazed over the newly exposed skin, barely contacting, and I held back a sob at the touch. His touch.
His eyes met mine, and his brows pulled together at whatever he saw there. "Hey," he said softly as he lifted my chin.
"They're small," I offered with surprising calm.
"They're perfect," he said.
"Okay."
He wasn't fooled.
He leaned in close. "Haven't I told you I'm partial to small ones?"
I shook my head. Tried to hold myself together, but Edward missed nothing.
He was frowning again as he studied my face. Stared. Stared some more. The urge to cover myself, to run and hide, pressed into me. He was putting it all together, I could see. He was good at that. I lowered my eyes, but he lifted my face again. "Did Jacob say something to you?" he guessed, and it was a masked calm; I could hear the anger forming behind it.
I shook my head, a denial, but Edward saw through it. Blinking, I lowered my eyes again and drew my arms in, awkwardly pushing up my chemise but not covering myself completely.
"I could kill him a thousand times over."
"Please," I whispered, not knowing what I was pleading for. "Please just..."
His cool fingertips touched my arms, and he drew them away from my body, detangling them from the straps of my chemise. Then his breath was against my face. "You're beautiful," he said. "So beautiful. Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?"
There were tears in my eyes and Edward was kissing my face, my lips. He kissed me once, twice, three times, until I was wrapping my arms around him and kissing him back.
There was a sensitivity, an unfamiliarity, and I was feeling a little lost with it. My fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt and he had to take over. He worked the buttons in no time, then shrugged out of the shirt and tossed it aside.
Edward shirtless did things to me. Many, many things that were magnifying by the second. My palm pressed hesitantly against his bare chest and I could feel my pulse thumping rapidly in my fingertips. He was still. He'd stopped. He knew. There was only a few inches of space between us. Between our naked torsos. My hair had fallen forward over my shoulders and it was just long enough to reach the tips of my breasts, creating a barrier that my shyness was tenuously—stupidly—grasping, even when I ached for him to touch me there. Ached to feel his glorious body against mine with no barrier at all. I could feel his eyes on me while my own stared at my hand pressed to his chest. My breaths were short. A few more seconds ticked by. Then he reached up to brush my hair over my shoulder, and his fingers lingered on my neck, the pad of his thumb stroking at my flushed skin, trying to calm me once again. Gently, he coaxed me backward until I was lying back against the pillows. His hands went to the mattress on either side of me as he eased himself over me without touching, keeping a distance between our bodies, hovering over me carefully.
There was so much of him. So big. So muscular. So many fears, churning and yanking while I fought to the surface.
I was drowning.
Edward went still.
No.
"D—don't stop." The words came from me, pleading, desperate.
There was something warring on his face. "Sweetheart, you're trembling," he said, and for the first time that evening he looked truly concerned, so it must have been bad, but I wasn't in a state to let myself recognize it. Didn't want to. Couldn't. Couldn't accepted it. Not now.
"Please," I begged, and I was practically crying now, the word shuddering out of me. "P—Please, don't..."
His hands framed my face. "All right," he said. "Shh, it's all right."
My hands reached for him, touching any part of him I could find. Then I was clutching at him, thrusting my body upwards against his so that finally, finally, my chest was pressed against his with nothing at all left between us. Edward hissed out a breath and groaned. I gasped. Good lord, he felt so good. His hand went to where my chemise was still bunched around my hips, and he slipped it down over my legs and tossed it aside. My white lace panties were all that was left now. I could feel the evidence of his want against my thigh.
I fought the current trying to drown me the only way I knew how: by throwing myself into everything else I was feeling.
I tugged, I kissed, I touched, until Edward was pushing me down against the pillows. "Not so fast," he breathed, his breath heavy against my throat.
I didn't listen.
Didn't know it would be a horrible mistake until it was too late.
I all but threw myself at him, and everything that came next happened in a daze without me even realizing it. Somehow my panties were gone and so were his shorts and boxers and I couldn't even remember how or when it had happened. I lay below him and the length of him brushed against me with no clothes as barrier.
That was when the bottom fell out of my world.
I sank.
I couldn't re-surface.
I couldn't register that this was Edward. That he'd never hurt me. All I could think was how much it had hurt. How much it was going to hurt. I was so, so scared that there was nothing else. I shoved uselessly at his chest, and the words tore from my soul, lost and broken and panicked beyond reason. "No...stop...don't."
Then he was gone.
When air and reality flooded back it was worse than the panic.
I realized then what I had done.
It crushed me like nothing else could.
I saw him picking up his boxers from the floor, the object of his desire still prominently visible, and the devastation ripped through me. It was unforgivable, going that far and leaving him unfulfilled. I couldn't. I wouldn't.
I lurched upward and rushed across the space between us, throwing myself at him before he could pull on his boxers. "Take m—me n—now," I sobbed. "You have to. Y—you have —to—to do it now, Edward." I clung to him uselessly, the tears spilling inconsolably from my eyes.
He pried my arms from around his neck, his grip firm. "No, Bella," he said, voice low with something I couldn't hear. "I won't. Not like this. Not like this."
I spilled to the floor at his feet. "B—but—it's the—only w—way. S—so I won't—be a—afraid anymore. Afraid—of—of—it—h—hurting."
His face swam before me and when I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again, I could see his tortured expression, his features twisting in agony. "Bella, sweetheart," he said, and it was so horribly, awfully kind that it tore through me worse than if it wasn't. "If you're not ready for it, it will hurt."
Everything in me froze, the reality settling in my veins, in my heart. On top of it all I had my own stupidity to contend with. I curled into a ball, suddenly very aware that I was still naked. Edward had managed to get his boxers on and was crouched in front of me. I couldn't look at him. It hurt far too much. I tucked my face into my knees. "Please go," I said, voice hoarse and shaking. "I—need to—be—a—alone."
"Bella..." The agony in his voice all but destroyed me.
"Go!" I cried, hiccuping on another violent sob.
From the edge of my eyes, I watched him stand slowly. Watched him disappear into the bathroom and come out again. Felt him wrap the robe around my shaking shoulders. Felt his lips press against the top of my head.
Then he was gone.
I pitched forward as uncontrollable sobs ripped through me, my world plummeting out from beneath me. I felt something on the floor crinkle under my arms.
A piece of note paper.
One short sentence written in Edward's penmanship.
I love you.
