EPOV

I've never been a religious man, but as soon as the moans start falling from Bella's lips. I find myself praying.

I pray for the strength to get through this. I pray that she'll stop moving. And I pray that my hands will stop shaking.

It's all in vain.

As I attempt to work the kinks and tension out of her shoulders, Bella's moans grow louder, the wiggling becomes unbearable, and my fortitude crumbles.

I grip her hips, probably harder than necessary, and the innocent massage comes to a screeching halt.

"Is everything okay?" Bella asks breathlessly, and it makes everything worse when she leans back.

The scent of her freshly washed hair hits me like a ton of bricks, and it's my turn to groan. My hold on her tightens. "Yes, no … I don't know." I whisper against her hair and she pulls away, moving to the opposite end of the couch.

"Wh-what is it?"

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

"Edward?"

I hold up my hand, and she falls silent. When I feel under control, I open my eyes, and I feel like an asshole. Bella looks almost afraid as she pulls her sweater back on. "I'm sorry, Bella."

Her head tilts to the side. "For what?"

"I just …" I run a shaky hand through my hair and meet her gaze. "It's been a while, a long while, since I've been this close to a woman that isn't related to me." Her eyes widen. "I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable, I just want to be honest."

"I'm sorry," she says softly.

"Don't be. It's me who should be sorry. I'm trying to be a gentleman but …" I trail off and stare at the blank TV.

"It's fine, Edward. Thank you for trying. I appreciate it."

I stand, ready to clean up the supplies and put this all behind us when I glance her way.

Big mistake. As soon as our eyes meet, it's electric.

One second, we're on opposite ends of the couch; the next, Bella is reaching up, grabbing the front of my shirt, and pulling me on top of her.

I don't even think before crashing my lips on hers.

We both groan loudly, and her hands tangle in my hair, pulling and tugging and making me as hard as ever. Her mouth opens, and I take it as an invitation to explore, and I do. I explore and taste and enjoy.

"Edward," Bella moans into my mouth.

I reach under her sweater and palm her tit. "Fuck." I gasp.

She hums in agreement.

We shouldn't be doing this. Perhaps that's part of the draw—the forbidden aspect of it makes it all the more exciting. We stop, and when I pull away for some much needed air, I know I should take advantage of the moment to pump the brakes. This is something we can't take back.

Bella leans up and presses her kiss-swollen lips against mine, and I forget all about ending this. She's soft and real and underneath me. I couldn't walk away from this if I tried. All rationality flies out the window when she tugs my shirt over my head and drags her nails down my back.

"Bella."

Weeks and weeks of awkward tiptoeing around one another has just been a strange form of foreplay. I unbutton her sweater and suck on her neck, reaching for the hem of her tank top. I'm surprised when Bella stiffens, grabs my hands, and utters the one word to shatter the moment and bring us back down to earth.

"No.

~MM~

I pull back, and her eyes are weary, almost embarrassed. Her cherry red lips form a deep frown.

"It's okay," I choke out, horrified that my voice is still thick with lust. "It's for the best."

"No, I—"

"Bella, it's fine. We're okay," I tell her.

"I didn't mean it like that," she says, pulling me back. "I want to. God, I want to … I just don't want you to take my shirt off. My scars from the accident are ugly. I'm not comfortable."

"You're beautiful," I whisper. "And in case you've forgotten, I've already seen them twice."

I should take her hesitancy as a clue to quit this, but she's still holding onto me, and I'm enjoying being pressed up against her too much.

It's been so long. Too long.

She shakes her head. "It's not the same. You'll be up close, and they're rough. Ugly."

I press a soft kiss against her trembling lip. "Those scars are just a reminder that you brought my—our daughter into the world and into my life. These brought you into my life. Both are a gift that I'll never be able to repay. You're delusional if you think I'm going to be disgusted by something so beautiful."

Bella still looks unconvinced, so I take matters into my own hands. I use my knee to spread her thighs and settle between her knees. I make sure she's watching as I lift the edge of her tank top, revealing the angry red scar that runs along the bottom of her abdomen. She shudders as I run my thumb across the puckered skin that served as the gateway to bring Marley into the world.

Bella's eyes clamp shut when I lower my head, but that's all right.

I press kisses from her belly button, along the seven-inch incision, and then back up. I wasn't there for Marley's birth—another thing adoptive parents miss out on—but I have to remember that Bella was also robbed of that moment. This is as close as I'll ever get to that moment. "You're so beautiful, Bella," I whisper against her soft belly. "This is so beautiful."

A tear slips out of her clenched eyes and slides down her cheek.

I push her shirt up farther, revealing more scars. A knick here, a divot there. Bella's eyes open, and she touches a scar along the side of her rib.

"Chest tube … fluid in my lungs," she croaks and moves on. "Road rash … glass … surgery."

I follow her hands with soft kisses pressed against each blemish, pushing her shirt up as we go until it's off and tossed to the floor. I lean back and study her. The swell of her breasts that the lack of bra does nothing to mar their beauty. Her skin is milky white, glowing in the soft lamp light. I take her in my hands, and Bella arches into my touch with a pleasure-filled sigh.

A kiss against each pebbled nipple, followed by a trail of wet caresses up her neck until my mouth finds hers open and waiting. Our kisses are soft, languid, while hands explore, and I can feel her heat against me through my jeans, and I'm so hard I'm about to bust through the zipper, a painful reminder that all of this is real. We're really on my couch, in my living room, making out like a couple of teenagers instead of the rational adults we are.

We kiss until our lips are swollen and raw, and then we kiss some more. One of Bella's hands grip the hair on the back of my neck, and when I pull away, she doesn't let me go far. My name is whispered as I slide her shorts down her legs to find a pair of little panties that match her abandoned tank top. For some reason, this makes me chuckle and Bella glares.

"Cute."

"Jerk." She huffs.

"Awe, come on, cookie." I cover her body with mine and wipe the scowl from her lips. I'm still clothed from the waist down so I press against her to relieve some of the ache.

"Please," Bella whines as I nibble her earlobe. "Please, oh please."

Smiling, I push the fabric of her soaked panties aside, and she hisses when the cool air hits her wet heat.

"Please."

"Don't beg, cookie. It doesn't become you," I tease and bite her lip as I slip one finger inside.

She bucks against my hand, and I add another finger, my thumb finding her swollen clit.

It's my hair that she grips in her hands as I set a torturously slow pace. It's my lips that she cries against as I press against her most intimate nerve. It's my name she calls when she comes undone around my fingers.

I watch Bella's chest rise and fall as I help her come down.

I've always enjoyed giving when it comes to sex, but watching her, smelling her, and touching her has made me harder and needier than ever. When I pull back and reach for my fly, she lays boneless and splayed out before me with rosy cheeks and swollen, blood filled lips.

It's not until my briefs hit the floor that she springs into action, siding her panties off and flinging them at my feet. Her arms open silently, calling to me, and I can't cover her quick enough.

Her lips meet mine, and we're sloppy. Bella hums in pleasure, and I'm too far gone to wait any longer. I need her. I need her more than I've ever needed anything in my life. Pulling back, I give her one less chance to back out. "Are you sure?"

She nods.

"We can't take this back."

"I'm sure," she repeats.

"This changes things," I tell her.

"I know and I want this." She caresses the side of my face. "I want you, Edward."

Entering her for the first time cements the fact that she's it for me.

I think I've been in love with her since the day she arrived in Florida and I placed my baby in her arms.

Bella's eyes roll as we move together, and her head digs into the cushion underneath her. Nails dig into my shoulders, and her hips rise to meet my thrusts. Kisses are soft one second and rough the next. When she bites my lip, it's all I can do to hold off.

I wrap my arm around her back and hold her close, thrusting harder as her cries grow louder and more frequent.

I'm barely holding on when she stiffens, and her mouth opens but no sound comes out.

"Bella." I grunt and see stars as I empty inside her.

Pulling out I try to move to the side, but she holds on, pulling me down. I'm laying on her and her hands are trailing up and down my back as we catch our breath.

"That was …" she says almost shyly.

I look up and the apprehension is evident.

"Perfect, Bella," I tell her. "Perfect."

She nods, and I know she agrees with me.