I know. I'm sorry. It's been a long time. Listen, I just wanted this to be perfect, okay? And I think it is. I really think you guys will forgive me once you see what's in store for you.

I'll stop rambling now and just leave you to it. ;)

Fran is my amazing beta. Jill and Ariel are my incredible prereaders. Enjoy. x

Chapter Twenty: Edward

"'Cause I wanna touch you baby

And I wanna feel you too
I wanna see the sunrise
On your sins just me and you
Light it up, on the run
Let's make love tonight
Make it up, fall in love, try
Baby, I am right here
But you'll never be alone
I'll be with you from dusk till dawn.

Dusk Till Dawn by ZAYN ft. SIA"

Every time I think about it, I can't help but laugh. I know I should be mad. I should feel some sort of violation and betrayal. And I know I may not be right about the deduction I've made, but I really think I am because nothing else explains it.

I just don't know how she did it.

As open as I've been with Bella, I've never brought her back to my place. I try to remember if I ever had her at my building before or if we've walked past it. I know I told her where I live in the vague sense of 'over on that street, south of campus,' but there would be no other way to know which place was mine, let alone be able to acquire a key to get in. Maybe she sweet-talked the landlord? But that still leaves so much more to be explained...

I'm already stationed against the wall next to my intercom, waiting for Bella to press the button. I texted her my apartment number while she was on her way over, though, I really don't think she needs it.

In fact, I'm ninety-eight percent fucking positive she doesn't.

The sound of the buzzer bounces off the walls, and I ring to let her in without saying a word— without making a move to find out if it's her. I already know it is; I practically fucking felt her coming. It's that weird energy she brings, whether it's from what she is, her just being her, or this connection between the two of us I would never be able to explain to anyone else. It's the kind of thing you would only understand if you felt it firsthand.

She's my true North, and I fucking feel that shit when it shifts.

Opening the door, I lean against the frame with one shoulder, crossing one leg over the other and my arms over my chest. I kind of want to give her a hard time, but fuck if I can't keep the smile off my face.

I swear, this girl could do fucking anything, and I would forgive her. I haven't even pulled a confession from her, and I already know I find this more amusing than upsetting.

When she rounds the corner to my wing of the hallway, I have to remind myself to breathe. It's like I've forgotten how beautiful she is in the past twenty-four hours.

And this time, she's wearing a fucking sundress. Her hair is all windswept and wild, tumbling down her back. The dress itself looks innocent as fuck, a creamy white that's only a shade or two darker than her porcelain skin, covered in tiny little red flowers. It brushes the middle of her thighs, swaying as she struts down the hallway like it's her own fucking Parisian runway.

But that's not what makes her sin on legs. Of course, it's October, and the chill of fall has set in, and it's the leather moto jacket and black boots she's always wearing that transforms her from angel to my own personal devil sent to destroy me. Her eyes are rimmed in dark, smokey makeup and back to their bright caramel gold color, and those fucking lips I haven't kissed in way too long are painted red.

Forget breaking into my house; I want her sitting on my face. Desperately. With the dress still on.

Fuck, what this woman does to me…

She stops about five feet away, propping her hands on her hips and giving me a look that may be reproach but looks to me like she's begging me to bend her over in the hallway.

"Now, what if I had been an intruder coming up to kill you?" Her sweet voice asks, snapping me sharply from my fantasies and back to the matter at hand.

I'd love to trade banter with her, but if I don't get to the point, I won't be able to control myself with her, and I may never know.

"How'd you do it?" I ask, raising my eyebrow.

"Do what?" She scowls, dropping her arms and closing the distance between us.

I'm impatient, reaching for her the exact nanosecond she's within arm's length, pulling her to me for the simple fact that I've missed her body against mine. And fuck, does she feel good. Too good. Hard and fit against me, melding against my body like she was made for me even if she's a foot shorter.

"Get into the building, into my apartment. Texted Seth. What else did you get into while you were here, my pretty little intruder?"

"What?" Her eyes go wide but relax as soon as she sees I'm not mad, her arms winding around me and filling me with that crazy chilling heat she always brings. "How did you figure it out?"

"I smelled you in my bed. I thought I was hallucinating, but then I checked my phone. Pro-tip, maybe when you break into your soon-to-be boyfriend's apartment, you don't send a text to his best friend with a timestamp for a time when he was definitely in the air? Just a suggestion for your future stalking endeavors." As I speak, I'm walking us backward into my place, my hands on her hips dying to find their way under that dress made for sin, but I want to know what she says—if she fesses up or tries to talk her way out of it and convince me I'm crazy.

"Well, how do you know it was me?" She challenges, her chin raised in defiance.

"Baby, I may not have made it into Dartmouth, but you don't get into med school by being stupid. I just want to know how."

"Fine," she sighs. "I may or may not have buzzed your neighbor to tell her that you sent me to get your phone."

"How did you know where I lived? Or which apartment was mine?"

She curses under her breath, trying to pull away from me, but I don't let her. Now that she's back in my arms, I'm burning for her.

"Clearly, I'm not mad about it. It worked out pretty fucking well for me." Cupping her cheek, I use my thumb on her jaw to force her to look at me.

"I had Carlisle get me the information…" Bella winces, rushing to explain. "I was just so worried about you, and I wanted to make sure you were okay. And then I found out about your dad, and I didn't want Seth to worry and…" She takes a deep breath after her words tumble from her mouth in a quick ramble that makes me wonder if my awkwardness is contagious. "By the way, who's Claire?"

I swear I see her eyes darken with jealousy, and it's fucking adorable. I can't blame her, I'd be jealous too, but part of me wants to make her sweat a little. So I shrug, morphing my smirk to be a little more cocky than playful.

"Just a girl I was dating to pass the time."

Bella yanks herself from my arms, her brows furrowed, and there's no fucking mistaking it now...she's jealous. And possibly pissed enough to castrate me. It's sexy as fuck, but I know I better put this fire out before she burns my place down.

Fuck, I'm hard.

"Relax, love," I say softly, walking toward her slowly like she's a scared animal that might spook with the smallest wrong move. "I'm just kidding; it wasn't like that. Seth set me up, and it wasn't long before she was asking me what girl I was so wrapped around. We spent most of the date talking about you. So please, put the claws away and get your fine ass over here and kiss me. I fucking missed you, even if I should have you arrested for being a stalker."

"Promise me?" She lets me touch her, my hands on her hips and making their way to her lower back, but she doesn't reciprocate just yet.

"What, that you're the only fucking woman I've ever had eyes for? Yeah, love, believe me. I promise."

She eyes me warily, wrapping her arms around my neck and lifting on the tips of her toes. Slowly, she leans closer and closer to my lips, static tingles running over my skin at the thought of her lips on mine again, but right when they're just about to touch, she stops.

"Edward?" Her breath is just a small breeze against the sensitive skin of my lips, and I hum in response. "I'm not normally like this. I swear I'm not crazy. Well...not unless it comes to you."

"Shhh, if you think for one second I wouldn't tear this world apart for you, you're dead fucking wrong."

I don't give her a choice anymore; I steal her lips like they're the only thing I want to possess in this world. They're not. I want everything she'll give me, but for now, I'll settle for the intoxicating push and pull of her lips on mine. I'll settle for tasting her tongue pulsing in my mouth, and the way she makes me forget anything exists outside the two of us, and how everything is right in the world when she's in my arms.

It only takes a few seconds for my blood to be boiling. I can't get her close enough, and soon, so fucking soon, our lips transform from a lingering kiss of greeting to something frantic and animal. I've never in my life even imagined it could be like this, so all-consuming, and if I don't get more ill fucking die. I can't breathe without her. I don't even want to try. I want to take her and run away, so it's only us for the rest of forever.

I'm so lost in her; I don't realize she's been pushing me backward until my calves hit the couch, and I fall back, our lips breaking apart only long enough for her to straddle me. The way her body moves against me, slow and undulating like she's dancing against me in a club, but the only music is what we make when we're together. It stokes the fire in me until I can't take the heat anymore.

Something is different this time. Somehow, this feels...deeper; like there's more of a purpose behind her movements. But I can't dwell on it for long because her hands are buried in my hair, her chest is pressed against mine, her core pressed against the hard ridge of my cock, and everything is Bella. All my senses, every atom in my body, every thought in my head. Everything I believe in, my past, present, and future. My heart, mind, body, and soul. It's all her.

I can't even get enough air in my lungs, but even though she has me gasping, I don't want to stop.

Maybe hours pass. Maybe it's only minutes. But when she breaks our kiss and looks down at me, everything about her is a stark contrast to the havoc she's wreaking on me.

She's still. Calm. I'm almost a little offended until I see the storm in her eyes. The fierce determination. She's looking at me like…

Like I'm everything.

And dammit, my chest hurts with all the love that wants to burst from it. I have to tell her. She needs to know.

"Bella, I l—"

"Edward, make love to me."

Her words cut off my declaration and stop me in my tracks. The way she says it isn't a command, exactly, but it also leaves no room for argument.

I shouldn't be questioning it. And I'm not, not exactly, but I find that suddenly I'm frozen. I don't know what to do or what to say. Part of me wants to throw her over my shoulder and take her to my room, piston into her until she's screaming my name. But I don't even know where to start in making that happen.

This is so big, such a massive step for us, and now I can't even tell her I love her because it'll look like I'm only doing it because she's offering me sex. But now I can't even form a full thought. She has effectively derailed me.

"What?" Good going, doofus. That's exactly what we say when the most beautiful woman in the fucking world is on our lap, offering the holy grail to us. Asshole.

Her lips curve up in that familiar heart-stopping smile, but the intensity in her eyes doesn't change. Not even for a second.

Somehow, someway, she wants this. Wants me. All of me. Everywhere.

Instead of responding verbally, she stands from the couch. I want to weep at the loss of the strange warmth her cool body leaves when it's on mine. But then she grabs my hand and pulls me up, and I'm right back to where I was the first time I laid eyes on her.

Realizing I would follow her absolutely anywhere. No questions asked.

And so, I do. I follow her from my couch to my bed. She then takes both my hands, guiding them to the outside of her thighs, to the hem of that damn sundress. And when she starts guiding me to lift it off her, I can't even look down at the new skin being revealed because her eyes are holding mine hostage.

Together, we gather the soft cotton of the dress and lift it up the length of her body. My knuckles brush up her sides, making me shiver and eventually gasp once I realize I've stopped breathing altogether.

This is happening. Somehow, someway, this is fucking happening.

Jesus Christ, I hope this is happening.

When the dress is finally over her head and discarded on my floor, I realize she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath, and I drink in every inch of her. From the delectable curve of her neck to the valley between her breasts, perfectly full and tipped with the dusky rose of her nipples that feel so fucking good against my tongue. Her flat tummy, the muscles clenching under the pale skin, and the taunting V between her legs, framed by her creamy, curvy thighs. Even her feet are pretty, and I've never been much of a foot guy.

It's not the first time I've seen her fully naked, but I'll never get over it. Every time feels like the first time, and I wonder if sex will be the same way.

How could she be anything but an angel? Divine and perfect, molded just for me.

Bella takes a step closer, her hand running up my chest to my jaw, where she tilts my head to look back into her eyes. I'm vaguely aware of the movement of her toeing her boots off, but I'm drowning in her at this point, and nothing is going to make me resurface. If this is how I die, I'll be fucking fine with it.

"Edward," she whispers, soft and loving. Like my name is poetry on her lips. "Take your clothes off."

I obey. I'm tempted to undress as fast as possible, but it doesn't feel right. I want to make this last. We're not in any rush, we have the whole weekend, and this is…

This is just too important to rush.

The silence of my apartment is filled with nothing but my shallow breathing and the soft rustle of fabric as I remove my clothes.

Our eyes aren't locked this time. This time she's exploring me in a way I don't think she's allowed herself yet. If it weren't for the pure hunger painted on her face, I'd feel self-conscious about the way she takes in every inch of my body. It's like she's memorizing me. Like she's scared I'm going somewhere. But I can feel her eyes cutting a path across my skin. Over my chest, making my nipples harden, down my abs, and when they land on my cock, standing so hard it's pointing upwards, she actually licks her lips and a small bead of precum leaks from me.

If it were anyone else, I'd be embarrassed.

I want to take control. To tell her—to show her—that I'll never go anywhere—that I'll always be hers. That someday, if she'll have me, I'll make her my wife. I'll be her husband.

But I don't know how to do any of that. I don't know how to do any of this.

"Lay down," she murmurs with that same reverent tone of commandment.

I obey.

Of course, I do.

And she stands above me, spread out beneath her like an offering. My throat is so dry, my skin alive and alert.

"Do you...I have condoms. They're in the drawer." My voice is barely above a whisper, but something tells me she would hear me if it were only a breath.

"We don't need them." When she starts touching me, it's only with the tips of her fingers, and yet I feel like she's branding me with her soul.

"Are you sure?" I think I'm only asking to have something to do. It's the only thing I can think to do right now, while this actual goddess worships me like I'm something special—something I'm not.

Her touch is so light along my collarbone, then down my chest, taking the same path her eyes took only moments ago. Only she passes around my cock, and I want to cry out in protest as her fingers make their way down my leg instead.

"Positive. You're clean, I'm clean, and I won't get pregnant," her eyes snap back to me then, the ghost of doubt crossing her features. "Unless you don't—"

That…that look...it's all I need to break. Something in the air physically and viscerally cracks, and I suddenly know exactly what to do. I need to make sure she never gets that look on her pretty face ever again.

Sitting up, I grab her wrist and pull her down on top of me. She's so careful to avoid a knee landing in a place that would ruin everything we're doing. When I finally have her body stretched over me, every inch of us pressed together, I take her gorgeous face in my hands to try and telepathically force how I feel about her into her head. And again, everything fades away.

"Bella, love, I do. I want you. I want this. No, I need it. You're the only one–" Apparently, we're not letting each other finish sentences tonight because her lips on mine cut me off. She knows me. She knows I would've rambled on forever, eventually saying something stupid and awkward, if she let me go on. And we have much better things to do right now than ramble.

I feel her eyelashes against my cheek, her hair brushing against my chest to cage us in, and I touch her. I realize in my stupor of oh-my-God-I'm-about-to-have-sex I've forgotten to touch her.

So I do.

I trace the curve of her spine, the swell of her hips, take the fullness of her ass in both my hands and squeeze. But that only presses her against my cock, so hard it's painful at this point, and I groan into her mouth.

It's all so much.

I wanted to set this up right; to light candles, dim the lights, put some music on, and spend hours worshiping her.

I now know we don't need any of that.

She shifts her legs, so she's straddling me once again, but this time we're both bare. She's so wet, and I'm so hard, and I'm pretty sure she doesn't realize she's rolling her hips against me until I'm slipping between her lower lips like I fucking belong there.

And it feels so fucking good. Better than anything I've ever felt. She's so wet and slick against me, and I'm groaning in her mouth, and then she lets out this little gasp and whimper that nearly makes me come.

Her body temperature may be cooler than most, but she's so hot. Not just her, but this inexplicable energy between us. As if, between the two of us, we make something completely new that science doesn't know yet exists.

It's the first law of Thermodynamics. Energy cannot be created or destroyed. And it's being proven wrong right now, in my apartment, on my bed. We're creating all kinds of crazy energy that's brand new to the universe.

When she moans into my mouth, and I feel my head brush against her clit, I have to stop her. If I want to actually make it inside her, I have to stop.

"I want to try something. Can I?" She breathes against my lips, her nails scratching lightly down the nape of my neck.

"Anything," I nod, helpless against her.

Except she slides down my body, her tongue and lips following the path carved by her eyes and hands. Her hair is silky and heavy against my overestimated skin, and then she's right there.

Her hand wraps around the base of my cock, and then she's leaving one long lick along my shift. Holy hell, she's licking herself off me, and it's...fuck, it's so good. And I tell her so.

"Fuck, love...so good, you feel so good."

I look down, and the sight of her tongue on my cock as she takes another lick is almost too much.

This is new. For as much as I've had my face buried in her pussy, she's never had me in her mouth in any fashion. I never asked, and I never even felt like I was missing anything. Getting her off was—is—all I need.

She leaves open-mouthed kisses up my shaft, alternating with small little flicks of her talented tongue. She grabs my hand and buries it in her hair so I can feel her head move against me, and I can't stop the low groans coming from my throat.

But then her mouth closes around the tip of my cock, her tongue lapping up the moisture there, and I have to fucking stop her because if I don't, I won't make it inside her. And I fucking need to be inside her.

My grip in her hair tightens, and I'm so careful not to hurt her while I pull her back up to my lips. Claiming them. Claiming her.

"Sweetheart, that felt so good, but I need to be inside you now," I pant, shocked that my voice is low and husky and maybe even a little bit sexy.

I cup her breast as I kiss her again, my thumb brushing against her nipple, and I can actually taste her need in my mouth. It's the same as mine.

"Edward, please…" I've never heard her quite like this. I've heard her moans and sighs; I know what she sounds like when she comes undone beneath me. It's not even the first time I've heard her plea. But this is different. Like she's begging to meld her soul to mine. She's ready to dive in headfirst and not look back.

So I roll us over. I'm not going to be able to give this to her if she's the one in control, at least not the first time.

She's so fucking beautiful, with her hair fanned out over my pillows, wild from having my hands buried in it. Her eyes are gold and bright and just looking in them, I know. We don't have to say it out loud. I know she loves me.

I want to kiss her, but I want to see her face when I slide into her. My fingers trace down the side of her face, my thumb pressing against her lower lip. Without a word, she draws it into her mouth, and my cock actually throbs at such a small action.

This woman. She's going to be the death of me.

I have to make sure this is what she wants, but when I open my mouth to ask, her hand over my mouth stops me.

"Don't you dare. Yes, I'm sure. I've never been more sure of anything. You're not the only one that needs this, Edward."

Her hands move to my shoulders, and she nods, licking her lips.

And I fucking hesitate. I'm frozen again.

"Bella, I don't...I don't know how to do this. I want it to feel good for you." My breath is shaky, making my words shake with it, but I'm not exactly scared. I'm just feeling so much.

She cups my cheek, her eyes softening. "Baby, it will be. It'll be good because it's us."

I actually feel tears sting my eyes at her words. Like a big fucking sap. But she's right. Nothing between us could ever be bad.

I wet my lips and nod, goosebumps rising on my skin as I feel her hand run back down my chest, over the ridges of my abs, and wrap around me. And then she guides me to her entrance and holyjesusfuck. My hips have a mind of their own when they surge forward, and she's so tight, like the most fucking delicious vice wrapped around me. I have to stop halfway in because it feels too fucking good.

My forehead falls to hers, my mouth falling open with a groan that matches her gasp.

Nothing. Nothing has ever felt this good for anyone—ever. There's no way.

I feel my balls tighten, the heat in my abdomen grows, the muscles in my back bunching with the exertion of not ramming into her like my life depends on it.

And then her hands are on my lower back, and her legs are tightening around my hips, and I have no fucking choice. I surge forward, all the way in, and the cry that breaks from my chest is not normal. Not human. But it's muffled by hers, and I don't have it in me to be ashamed when I've actually stepped foot in heaven.

"My God, Edward, you're so...fuck, I'm so full," she's practically whimpering, wriggling her hips to urge movement, and I know...I know if I move, I'll come.

But I can't hold still. I have to move. I don't have a choice.

I want to tell her how good she feels, how beautiful she looks under me like this with my cock buried in her—how right this is. How I'll never get enough of her.

And yet, she's stolen all my words, and all I can do is move inside her. It's not gentle, and it's not soft like we first started. When I push into her the second time, I put all my force behind it.

Her back arches up from the bed, her breasts pressing against me, her nipples hard little points.

On the third thrust, the pressure in my spine and low in my belly and my balls has built to a tipping point, and I can't stop. I want to. I want to draw this out and cherish her, fuck her like I've been dying to since I've known her. But it's too fucking good, and I throw my head back and the sound I make when I come, abruptly and forcefully...I can only describe as a roar.

Fucking ecstasy has nothing on whatever this feeling is coursing through my veins, setting my whole body alight with electric fire.

It feels like it lasts forever, but when the feeling finally passes, I collapse on top of Bella, gasping for air. She wraps her arms around me and holds me so tight I want to cry, kissing every part of me she can reach. My temple, my cheek, jaw, neck, shoulders.

I don't actually cry, but the feelings are definitely there.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I groan, hiding in her neck, using the chill of her skin to cool my heated face.

"Shh, don't be," she whispers, tangling her fingers in the hair at the back of my head and running her other hand down my spine.

"But—"

"No, Edward. That was perfect. You're perfect. Besides…" She trails off, her tone taking a teasing edge that has me lifting to look at her face, which is full of mischief and some sort of sexy promise. "If you think I'm done with you, you don't know me at all."

I can't help but laugh at her, so sure of herself and us. Before she has a chance to say anything else, I'm making my way down her torso, sucking her nipple into my mouth and reveling in the way it shuts her up except for her sexy little moans. And when my head is finally between her thighs, I make sure she gets hers.

Hehehe, let me know what you think!