Heyyy! So if you aren't friends with me on Facebook, I posted on Friday that I wasn't able to update until Monday, so some of you were prob like "where the F is this B?" This B was hiding in the deserty mountains with her people. It was necessary.

Sorry for the delay, though! And thanks for waiting. I reaaaaaally hope y'all enjoy the update. See y'all Thursday.

Many thanks to Hadley, of course, who is simply the best. To Mich for everything! And to Kimberly for pre-reading. :)

Edward clings fiercely to my hand on the walk back to his truck.

He stays silent.

So do I.

After he unlocks and swings open my door, I climb inside and sit quietly in the cab. My eyes follow him as he walks around the front of the truck. I watch as he hesitates outside his door for a moment and scrubs a hand over his mouth before getting in.

"Edward—"

"Please don't," he quietly begs, fisting some of his hair. "Just… don't."

My heart sinks.

He starts the engine but stays in park and stares out the windshield.

"Can we not talk about it right now?"

I nod, and when he doesn't look over at me I say, "Okay."

"Should I take you home?"

I sigh, and he finally looks at me.

"Please don't push me away, Edward."

I sense reluctance in his voice when he says, "I'm not, I just… want to make sure that wasn't too much, and if you want an out, I'm giving it to you."

"I don't want an out. I'm staying with you tonight."

He shifts into drive. "Okay."

The ride to his place is quiet. Halfway there, his hand finds mine, and our fingers stay entwined as I replay everything his father said. Everything I said. Fuck, I wish I'd said more.

I know he said his father was difficult, but I could've never imagined that. Never. When I think about Edward having to deal with him for so long, without his own mother as a buffer, the urge to cry bubbles in my throat. I hold back though. It feels unfair to cry when Edward's so stoic. Really, he's the one who has to be hurting more than I am. Anything I feel is just secondhand to his pain.

After he parks the truck, we walk toward the stairs of his building. I'm on the fourth step when I realize he's not following me.

I stop in place and stare down at him. "What's wrong?"

"I'm gonna…" He pulls out a pack of smokes and reaches out to hand me his keys. "I'll meet you up there."

I'd offer to wait with him, but I get the feeling he wants to be alone right now.

He sits on the second step, and I watch as he brings the filter to his lips, flicking the lighter until the end of the cigarette burns.

I don't say another word as I let myself inside his building.

The apartment is dark when I walk in, but I only turn on the kitchen light. I start looking through his cupboards to find what I need: a box of mac and cheese. I begin boiling a pot of water, and by the time I'm pouring the noodles into the pot, Edward walks in.

He's quiet. Contemplative. When he sees what I'm doing, he presses a quick kiss to my temple before reaching for the bottle of whiskey above his fridge.

"Maybe you should eat," I murmur.

"Yeah, maybe."

He pours a glass anyway and takes a swig, then hands it to me. I take one small sip, wincing from the burn.

"The macaroni's almost done."

Another kiss, this time to the corner of my mouth. "Thank you."

He quietly makes his way over to the bed, facing away from me as he takes off his boots. I try not to watch him while I finish making the food. He doesn't have a colander, so I attempt to drain the noodles without losing any in the sink. After I pour the packet of processed cheese into the pot and stir everything together, I turn around to find Edward lying on his stomach with his face against the mattress.

It breaks my heart.

I quietly cross the room and lie next to him.

"Edward." I say his name softly and carefully. "Hey… it's okay."

"It's not okay," he mumbles, turning his head a little to meet my eyes. "I'm pissed for thinking he could lay off on being an egocentric asshole for one fucking night. You shouldn't have had to see that. Or be around him. I'm sorry for bringing you."

"If anyone needs to be apologizing, it's him. Not you. I don't believe any of that shit he said about you. You know that, right?"

"He wasn't lying though," he mutters, voice bitter. "I got kicked out of school. Arrested." He pauses for a moment. "And the drugs weren't a lie, either."

I brush some hair away so I can see his eyes. "You don't have to explain yourself or your past. It's okay."

"I know, but I want to. Only with you." He lets out a breath and turns onto his side to face me. "The drugs were mostly weed and pills. I don't touch that shit anymore. I mean, sometimes I smoke but… no pills." He lets out a humorless laugh. "I used to steal them from my dad. God, if he knew that, he would just…" His eyes grow distant. "I just wanted to be numb, I guess."

I frown. His mood feels kind of dark, and I hate thinking about him wanting to escape and stay numb. I hate imagining him walking around, detached and dazed, and his dad not even noticing enough to help him.

"I finally started drawing again, though. After a while. My friend, Jasper, and his girlfriend were able to pull me out of my funk. We started playing music, and eventually, I stopped getting fucked up as often. I stopped fucking up less, too. Not in my dad's eyes, but… at least I knew my mom would approve of what I was doing."

"She still would," I reassure him.

"I moved out when I was eighteen, though," he remembers, his tone slightly bitter. "It wasn't the best idea, but I can't say my dad did nothing for me. He let me move back in after six months. He wasn't thrilled, and we fought a lot but…" Edward shakes his head. "I thought I'd try things his way for a while. Even when I tried to turn it around, to make him fucking proud, I ended up quitting college."

"That's okay."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"I'm a nobody to him."

My eyes sting with tears.

"But you're someone to me," I whisper, and nuzzle my face closer to his. I wait for his eyes to meet mine because I need him to really hear my words and see the truth in them. "You're… everything." I find a sense of calm in his gaze before he buries his face against my neck. My fingers rake through his hair, and I hope he feels how loved he is at this moment. "I see you, and I care about you, okay? So fucking much."

With his face still hidden, he takes a deep, revitalizing breath. Like he'd been holding it out of fear and anger this entire time. Maybe his entire life.

"Thank you," he murmurs.

"You don't have to thank me."

"I do. You stuck up for me. You were there for me. I just… fuck, you made me macaroni," he laughs a little, his mood lifting. "You're everything to me, too, Bella."

"I'd do it again and again," I murmur, staring at him, thumb brushing over his cheek. "I just wanna be let in. I wanna be with you."

"You're in." His gaze is tender as he cups my face and kisses me. "You're so fucking in."

It's all I want.

I scoot closer and wrap my arms around his neck, hugging him as best I can while lying down. His face buries against my neck again, and we just hold each other for a moment longer until I feel his mouth hot on my skin. It's gentle at first, a light embrace. Then I feel his tongue passing over the delicate skin of my neck, and a slow burn ignites in my belly.

His hands move from my waist down to cup my ass. There's fire behind his touch now. Intention.

My hands tangle in his hair, and with our lips frantically moving together, his fingers slip under the hem of my dress, fingers brushing the edge of my underwear. He's gentle as his fingers explore, slipping inside the material. When he feels how much I want him, he groans in response.

I reach between us and rub my hand over the bulge in his jeans. I smile when it elicits another groan from his parted lips.

"Can we… I mean, do you want to…"

I search his face for any doubt. Any hesitancy or concern that we shouldn't do this.

But all I find is love.

All I see is certainty.

A beat passes, and I kiss him again, capturing his mouth with mine.

"I want to undress you," he whispers, fingers trailing over my bare shoulder. "Will you let me do that?"

I'll let him do whatever he wants.

"Okay."

We stand, and he moves behind me, unzipping my dress. Before he takes it off, he kneels behind me, and his rough hands move up my thighs, under my dress as he slowly slips my underwear down my legs.

My heart pounds, and I shiver at the tenderness behind his touch.

He stands again and slides each strap down my shoulders until my dress is pooled at my feet. When I turn to face him, I unclasp my bra and pull the clips out of my hair, letting my waves fall over my shoulders.

"Fuck, Bella." His eyes glaze over, and he stares at me. "Look at you."

My insides melt. I am fucking done for. The way he's staring at me, like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, makes my body feel like it's on fire.

"Your turn." I undo his stupid shirt one button at a time, and I can feel him watching me. "Never wear this again," I murmur. "Unless it's for you. No one else."

He unbuttons his jeans, but I unzip and pull them down.

"Look at you," I muse, staring down at the obvious arousal in his black briefs.

Then I take those off for him, too.

"Thanks," he kind of laughs.

"It's literally no problem. Happy to help."

His laughter fades before he grabs my hand and pulls me against his body to envelop me in his arms. He holds me for a second before kissing me passionately. I feel lusted after, and longed for. I feel cared for. Loved. I hope he feels all of those things, too.

I break our kiss and stare into his eyes before crawling to the middle of the bed, lying back against his mattress. He takes his time coming over, giving me extra time to ogle him. He just stares down at me. Like he can't believe I'm here, naked, in his bed.

Like he can't believe I'm his.

He moves gently, carefully, hovering over me. I pull at his shoulders until the full weight of his body is on me.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask, and he rubs his nose against mine.

"How much I don't deserve you," he says, almost a whisper.

I shake my head. His words cause emotion to build in my chest because it's not fucking true. Edward deserves so much.

"You deserve everything," I tell him, lifting my chin to kiss him. "You deserve love."

"Bella." He swallows and brings a hand up, wiping at the corner of my eye with his thumb. "Are you crying?"

I am. A little. It's terrible fucking timing.

"No," I lie.

His smile is affectionate. "It's okay."

The moment passes, and he captures my mouth in a kiss. It's tentative, shy. I deepen it, of course, because I want more. We're naked, and he's right there, and I need him. I want to feel close to him, and I want him to feel just how much he does deserve me.

His mouth leaves mine, sucking on my neck, softly biting at my skin. Then he grabs my hands, lifting them above my head as he grinds against me. It's rough but somehow tender.

"Fuuu—," I breathe out incoherently. "Baby."

It just slips out of my mouth.

He must like that I call him that because he groans out against my skin, mouth exploring my neck, down to my chest.

"Say it again," he tells me, lips around my nipple.

"I want you, baby. So fucking bad."

His hand slips between us, and his fingers slide into me. "You want me?"

I clench my eyes closed. "More than anything."

The rhythm of his fingers is slow, torturous. I open my eyes to find his trained on my face, enjoying what he's doing to me. The sexy, smug smirk only makes me want him that much more.

"I wanna…" he whispers after a second.

"What?" I breathe out.

"I wanna put my mouth on you," he says quietly, and my arousal heightens at the thought.

"Then do it." He presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to my shoulder. "That's not what you meant," I chide.

He smiles. "No, that's not what I meant…"

And then he shows me what he did mean by kissing his way down my body and using his mouth on me. I nearly come undone right then.

"Edward," I pant out. "Hey," I say again, and he lifts his head. The sight of him between my legs is too much. "I want you now. Like, right the fuck now."

I watch him stare up at me, like he's warring with himself. A second passes, and whatever part of him is telling him not to go this far with me must lose because he leaves the bed and grabs a condom. I watch him roll it on, and moments later he's hovering over me again before he lies between my legs.

"Do you want this?"

"I do," he whispers, searching my face again. "I've been thinking about it a lot."

"You have?"

"Like this morning. Last night. And every day since our first kiss."

"That is a lot," I chuckle. "But I like it. I want it, too."

He looks hesitant again. "It's okay?"

"It's okay. I know," I tell him. I don't know if he knows I'm telling him that I know. But I don't want to talk about that right now. I just want him inside of me. I crave him. I want him to fill me, and I only want to think about right now. Nothing else. Not his father, or his past. Not tomorrow or the impending reveal. Just… this exact moment.

Finally, he slowly guides himself inside me, his eyes on my face the entire time. My mouth parts, and I gasp, breathing out into his mouth.

"Fuck," I hiss, and then he's flush with me, barely moving. "Fuck."

"Shit," he mumbles, brows knitting tightly together. "You feel… you… fuck, Bella."

He moves gently. Every move is slow and tender. Deliberate. Like he never wants this to end. I don't want it to, either.

I brush hair away from his face and stare up at him.

"You okay?" he asks tenderly.

"More than okay."

He drops his head against my shoulder and starts to thrust faster. Then he grabs my arms again and pins them above my head, pushing into me while holding me down.

"You're so sexy," I gasp out. "And you feel so good."

He lets go to hook his left arm under my knee, lifting it up to my chest. He's able to go deeper then, and I moan out loud.

"Fuuuck me."

"I'm not trying to just fuck you," he grits out, aroused and amused.

"I know." I'm breathless. It's more than that with us. I know this. I feel this.

"I want to fuck you… and love you…" He says it almost like he's begging me to let him.

Our movements falter for a moment, and he stares down at me, brows knit and mouth parted, like he's searching for something in my eyes.

"I want all of that, too," I pant, and his hips move in small circles again.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He rolls us over, so he's under me, and I kiss his chin, his neck, his chest before we move to sit up. When I sink back down onto him, we groan out in unison. Then I grip his shoulders and move up and down, watching his face as he watches me fuck him and love him and whatever else I'm willing to give him. Which is all of me. I hope he can do the same in return.

"You feel so fucking good, baby," he manages to whisper, mouth slack, eyes glazed.

Then he dips his head and bites down lightly around my breast.

The feeling builds.

"I'm so close," I tell him. "But I don't want to yet."

His brows pull together, like he's holding off too.

"I want you to, though." When he says this, he slides a hand between us, rubbing me.

"It feels so good," I nearly cry. "I just don't want it to end."

His laugh is dark, breathy. "Okay. Well..."

I bite down on his shoulder. Imagining doing this with Edward forever makes my heart nearly burst in my chest.

I can't hold back any longer, and I let go. With my arms wrapped tightly around his neck, I feel the impending wave of pleasure crash over me, taking over some of my senses. I can't see, can't hear.

All I can do is feel.

All I can feel is love.

My orgasm slows, and moments later, he grips my hips, and I feel him pulse inside me. My name is the only thing that slips from his mouth.

Our bodies slow to a stop, and we catch our breath. I drop my head against his shoulder, and his hand snakes up my back to caress my skin.

"God." I kiss the corner of his mouth once, then twice. He turns his face a little to meet my lips. "I'm… you've wrecked me."

Another breathy chuckle, but this time it's sated and lazy.

"I could say the same for you," he murmurs. "You're just... fucking amazing."

I cover his mouth with my hand, shaking my head, and he pulls my arm away to kiss me.

Eventually, we get up. We share macaroni from the same bowl, and find ourselves back in the bed, bodies tangled. He's behind me, arm around my stomach, chin resting in the nook of my shoulder.

"Are you excited for your show tomorrow night?" I murmur in the dark.

"I guess."

"You guess?" I echo, turning a little to try to see him.

"You'll be there?"

"Yes."

"Then yes, I'm looking forward to it."

I roll over, so I'm facing him. "You're only excited about it because I'm going? You're going to give me an ego."

He laughs, eyes crinkling. "I mean, you know I get nervous. But I like playing music more than I mind being shy. So yes, knowing you'll be there is comforting."

"I told you that no one even notices that you're anxious up on stage," I remind him as his fingers trail lightly over my hip. "But, if you get nervous tomorrow night, just look for me in the crowd. Okay?"

"Okay." He swallows then leans in to kiss me. "I will."

Edward POV:

It's over.

I'm in fucking love with this girl.

I just hope she doesn't hate me tomorrow.