I do not own Twilight.

I already know what's going to happen as soon as he follows me into my nearly empty bedroom.

He was practically pacing in the elevator, looking everywhere at once as though he needed some outlet for his anger. I was surprised not to find fire shooting from the tips of his fingers, but as soon as the door shuts, he's on me.

His fingers wrapping into my hair, his mouth pressing to mine, his tongue tangling with my own. I know I shouldn't give in, but to be with him like this, like anything, again is just so unreal that I can't help myself as I give in fully, letting him walk me backwards towards the emptied and clean-surfaced bureau. He grips me under my arms and places me on the surface as though I weigh nothing, his lips only leaving mine to slide my shorts and underwear off of my hips. I lift slightly so he can slide them off and then my arms are wrapped around his neck, pulling him back to me.

Really, this is my fault, too. I should have stopped and I should have made him talk to me, but his fingers are already touching me there and I know without even having to see the angry lust in his eyes that I'm more than ready for him. I always am.

He kisses me again before pulling me off and turning me around, pushing my arms to the bureau. I stand, panting, wanting as he kicks my legs apart with his own, my fingers gripping the edge of the wood.

I hear the zipper from his jeans and then he's inside of me, my inhalation more of a gasp, his a strangled groan.

He moves quickly, but he knows just how to press into me, against me, to hit that sweet spot inside of me and I'm crashing around him, calling out his name. His mouth on the side of my neck, he follows in seconds.

It's fast. Over with in just a few minutes and I feel sated, but used.

I refuse to turn back to him after I pull up my shorts, buttoning them quickly and staring at the grain of wood before me.

His fingers are still against my arms, his chest pressed to my back, his forehead against my shoulder blade. It's like he's defeated; freezing his entire body for any emotion that might spew from me.

"Bella," he mutters eventually and I can't tell if it's an apology or a thanks or what, but I'm not going to let this shit go anymore.

I turn. If he's surprised by the tears in my eyes, he makes no show of it. I shake my head. "We're not doing this," is all I say.

"Bella, I..." he trails off because what is he supposed to say? That's he's changed? That he didn't just fuck me because we saw Mike outside? Because of what Mike said to him?

"You won't take your anger out on me." My voice is not as angry as I'd like for it to sound. "What happened between Mike and I happened. We weren't together. You can't hold that against me."

I wipe at a few stray tears with the back of my hand and move to step around him. He stops me.

"Please, I just..."

I'm wheeling on him, my irritation and hurt stringing through my words. "Just what, Edward? Needed some outlet to pour your anger into? One that didn't involve physical violence?" I move away from him, grabbing my last few bags and box and leave the room. I'm too angry to even care that we have to ride back together. We'll do it in silence.

And we do.

He doesn't try to talk and I sure as hell stay silent. I'm mad that he thinks he can still treat me like this...like he can use me to vent his anger and jealousy where before he'd vent on the person who deserved it.

Three hours fly when you tune out as much as you can. Edward's been sneaking glances at me and I can see his jaw tensing over and over like he wants to say something, but his hat is pulled low so I know that he won't. I don't know if that makes me relieved or hurt.

He finally speaks when I pull up at Emmett's apartment.

"Will you at least call me when you get home?"

I don't answer, turning to look out my window dismissively.

"Bella, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"I'll text you," I answer abruptly, cutting him off.

He doesn't say anything for a moment but I hear the door open and close and, despite my desires to be home, in bed, crying, I make sure he makes it inside of the building. It's getting dark and I don't want him stranded.

Once he's inside, I'm gone and when I get home, there's a message from Edward saying he's sorry and that he loves me and that he wants to talk this through. To call him. But then there's a message from Alice asking if I want to come by for a bit.

The latter seems more appeasing at the moment.