18+
XLVIII
Edward doesn't look like he's been sleeping.
His eyes are bloodshot and puffy, even in the darkness.
He steps backwards, leaving the door open for me.
An invitation.
I step in and shut it behind me, my fingers trembling.
This is his door, not mine.
I turn to face him, and meet emerald eyes glinting in the shadows.
'I'm sorry,' my words seem to echo, like a drop in a still pool, rippling through the room. Edward doesn't say anything, and I swallow around the lump that's suddenly appeared in my throat. 'You're not just…you're more, but I…can't have more…and I need…' I squeeze my eyes shut, my heart pounding.
Strong, warm arms wrap around me and Edward swears, 'You're so cold,' he murmurs frustratedly.
'I…I'm sorry, I'm sorry.' I say into chest, gripping him tightly, trying to soak up his warmth, trying to soak up him. 'I…'
'Shh,' he murmurs, 'come here baby.'
He leads me into the bathroom and I sigh in relief when he doesn't turn on the light.
I couldn't bear it right now.
There's a scrape of metal and then a rush of water against tile.
I can barely see anything in here, not his face, not his body, but I don't need to see to feel him, I know exactly where he is.
I'm pulled close and Edward takes my coat off, making an unhappy noise when he discovers I'm in just a t-shirt and my underwear underneath.
'Are you trying to freeze to death?' He sighs, taking off the rest of my clothes and then pulling me into the shower.
He's fully clothed but he doesn't seem to care, stepping with me under the hot water, his arms wrapping around me tightly.
His wet clothes feel strange against my naked skin, rough barriers when I want soft and smooth.
The water burns a little, heavy drops sinking, making my hair turn heavy, coating my eyelashes, my cheeks, masking the tears that are racing down them. I can't stop crying, can't turn it off, can't turn anything off.
I clutch at him tightly. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry.'
'I'm sorry too.' Edward's voice trembles. 'I shouldn't have left like that, I felt sick Bella. I…we should never have done that. It was wrong. I can't be like that with you again. I can't.'
I cry brokenly into his chest, clutching tightly at his soaking t-shirt.
He gently lowers us to the floor, and I cry and cry.
Naked and in the dark, but the waters hot, and he's here.
He's here and so am I.
I sob into his neck, his legs and arms cocooning me tight.
I'm shaking, but it's not just me.
My heart shatters as I realise he's crying too, the sounds of both our anguish hidden under the swell of the water, heavy thuds against tile.
I did this to him. To us.
'I need you too.' I try to say, my voice catching and breaking. 'I just need you. I don't need anything but you.'
I don't know how long we're there, on the floor, holding on to each other. I'm stranded out in deep waters and he's the only thing keeping me from drowning.
There's no sink or swim, just hold on tight and hope to float.
When we both stop crying, Edward gently pulls me to stand and together we take the rest of his clothes off.
He manages to find the soap in the darkness and it pools in my palm, cooler than the water, thick and slick. My hands slip and slide across his skin, invisible bubbles and foam spreading between my fingertips. His hands glide like satin too, and we rinse soapy skin with more touches, finding each other easily even though we can't see.
I don't need to see to know every inch of him. I could draw a map of every line of his body, everywhere that makes him groan, but I want more details. My key is in desire and I want the ledger for laughter and sighs, relaxed hums and sleepy murmurs.
His bedroom door is locked, he assures me, as we dry with fluffy towels and he dresses me in his clothes, a t-shirt and a pair of boxers that hang loose at my crotch but feel silky and smooth against my skin.
We crawl under cold bedsheets, bodies sliding over soft cotton and huddling for warmth. His hard chest goes to my back and he holds me tight, his mouth at the back of my neck, hot breath making me squirm and my blood burn.
I feel him hard against my ass, but he doesn't move, and I don't either.
In the silence of his room, my lips part and I say it, the thing I don't want to say, the thing we both know, but I've never admitted out loud.
'I don't want you to have a girlfriend.'