AN:

Sorry for the lack of updates over the weekend. Real life got in the way. Rude.

Back to Edward. Enjoy!

I loved acing tests.

I really loved acing Bella's little tests, but it was easier with her. She gave me confidence and made me feel like she wanted me.

The way she felt, straddling my legs, made my whole body hum and my hands shake. I wanted to touch her all over; I wanted to feel every inch of her skin and kiss her everywhere. I wanted to have sex with her. The realization hit me like a wrecking ball, but instead of the overwhelming urge to run, a sense of calm, of comfort, settled over me like a warm breeze.

I was okay with that thought. I wasn't terrified.

Now all I needed to do was convince her of that.

Her lips were soft, so addictive. I needed to breathe but didn't want to—I didn't want to break the connection. But I didn't need to, she did, smiling at me when I pushed my bottom lip out in a pout.

"Don't worry. We're just getting started." Her voice was breathy and sensual, gritty and sexy, like a jazz singer. God, it drove me wild.

I watched with wide eyes, swallowing loudly as she straightened herself and crossed her arms over her front, grasping the hem of her t-shirt and pulling it over her head. When she dropped it to the floor behind her, it landed with a thud much too loud for the weight of it.

"You can touch," she said. "But only if you want to."

I wanted to. I wanted to tell her that I wanted to, but I couldn't speak; my tongue felt too large for my mouth, swollen, like another part of me. Instead, I lifted my shaky hand, gently brushing my fingers over her flat, toned stomach, ghosting her skin, making her shiver. Her small reaction spurred me on and made me braver. She was watching me—I could feel the weight of her eyes on me, but I couldn't tear my eyes from the smooth skin of her torso and my fingers as they worked up and up, toward her red, laced bra.

Red.

It was my new favorite color.

The material was smooth and thin, her nipples puckering, straining under the sexy fabric, begging to be touched. I may have been inexperienced when it came to sex, but I was a med student; I knew the human body and how it worked.

She was silent, but her body reacted to my touch, so responsive and tempting. It made my heart thud heavily.

My cock was trying to Incredible Hulk its way out of my jeans, but I was too engrossed in Bella's body to care.

"Is this okay?" I asked quietly, brushing a thumb over her covered nipple.

Her back arched and she whimpered. "God yes. Don't stop."

Fuck.

I lifted my other hand, working her nipples simultaneously with my thumbs, unable to help myself from reaching around to try and unclasp her bra.

How the fuck did bras fasten?

"I'll show you how these work some other time," she said through a strained chuckle, reaching around to undo her bra like it wasn't astrophysics. "In the meantime …" Her voice trailed off as her bra fell forward, uncovering her perky, creamy breasts and the blushed peaks of her nipples, so utterly beautiful and in proportion to her upper body.

I groaned, looking at her quickly for permission, before lifting my hands to cup her. She moaned, pushing into my palms. I had no idea what I was doing, but on instinct, I massaged her breasts, paying extra attention to her nipples. When her hips surged against my raging erection, I guessed she liked it.

We moaned at the same time, both of us needing more.

Dropping my head, I took a chance and licked the space between her breasts, finishing at her clavicle.

"Fuck." Her voice was tight, almost desperate, her hips bucking.

It was so much, almost too much, but I didn't ever want to stop. I explored with my lips, listening for and feeling her reactions, learning what she liked quickly.

My tongue on her nipples made her mewl and her hands lift to grasp my hair.

"Edward," she rasped, leaning back, forcing me to look up at her. "Can I?" Her fingers played with the hem of my t-shirt, asking permission to remove it. I nodded and sat straighter, lifting my arms so she could remove the fabric from my body.

The air was cool, almost cold, but my body felt as though it was on fire. I watched nervously as her gaze worked its way from my hair, down to my stomach, her eyes blazing, her bottom lip between her teeth. I held my breath, having never felt so naked and on display before. But the way she looked at me—it didn't make me feel uncomfortable. There was a pulse in my throat, a surge through my veins. I felt alive.

"You're so beautiful," she said, her voice sultry and silent, almost distracted. I didn't know what to say, or what to do. My hands rested on her thighs, shaking, my palms clammy.

I was bare. Vulnerable.

I said nothing.

Her hands explored my body, just as slowly and cautiously as mine had hers. I watched, my breathing ragged, my muscles clenching under her fingertips, my breath hitching when she brushed my nipples, making her smile softly and hum.

The pulsing in my cock was forgotten as I watched her, my body aching for release but the atmosphere explorative and relaxing, comforting, languid rather than rushed.

When I leaned forward to capture her lips once more, her hands snaked up, cupping my neck, her fingernails light against my nape. It made my skin tingle and my body convulse, and I felt her smile against my mouth. My arms snaked around her hips, pulling her closer, bringing her breasts against my chest. Both of us moaned at the contact, our kiss deepening, becoming a little more rushed, verging on feral. When she tugged my hair, I groaned into her mouth, our tongues dancing together, our breaths hushed and crushed, swallowed just as quickly as they arrived.

My head was foggy, my mind a swirl of one hundred different emotions I couldn't name, or organize, or even begin to sort through.

It felt as though there was no distance, either physical or emotional, and I knew that was dangerous. I was destined to marry Kate, indifferent to a life laid out by our families. I wasn't supposed to get attached—it would do me no good; and even if there was a woman out there open to my attachment, Bella was not it.

Rose's words echoed in my head as I kissed Bella, grounding me, reminding me of the goal in this arrangement and that Bella was out of reach for most, especially me.

She's a rogue. A bit of a nomad. She belongs to no man and no city. Wild and free, and utterly delicious with it.

AN:

Mel got this edited in no time at all. She's a superstar and I don't deserve her.

Thanks for reading!