Please excuse my absence. I won't bore you with details, but I apologize none the less. Unfortunately, you might want to reread previous chapters, so you know what the hell is going on in this story. I hope it doesn't happen again, but I can't guarantee it won't. If you want to keep up with what's going on I have a FB group entitled… wait for it… bitterharpyfanfiction. I'm nothing if not original, I tell ya.

Enjoy.

TAP Chapter 17

BPOV

Time: Late.

Children: Younger ones asleep, older ones awake and helping.

Walls: almost done.

Mess: Yes.

Edward: Sleeves rolled up, shirt unbuttoned just enough, laughing with children.

Me: Blazer off, shoes off, ovaries swooning, wet in places no one can see, thank God.

Funny how a room doesn't look that big unless you're the one that has to help paint it. I realize I am the one that offered to help. I'm impulsive with my generosity and I rarely ever regret it. And I don't now but I guess in trying to pull Edward's royal scepter out of his 'arse', I didn't think about the repercussions that would have on my female parts.

He has lovely forearms. That's not something I've ever noticed on a man before. First time for everything I guess.

Speaking of first times, it is obviously the first time for Edward to paint anything, but he is earnestly trying. He stands back, checking his work and he looks at me with a proud smile. It's splotchy as hell but if he's proud of it, so am I. Besides, who else could say the Crown Prince of England painted their wall?

Marcus has returned, unfortunately. Sitting in the corner, disapproving as always. Looks at me and the children like we are gum stuck to his shiny loafers. Have you ever watched Jeff Dunham, the dude who puts his hands up puppets asses and talks for them without moving his mouth? Well, Marcus' face looks like Walter. In case you need a visual.

I'm so lost in thought that I don't notice Charming sneak up behind me until he grabs me playfully. Startled, I fling my hand up to… I don't know…defend myself, when I realize that I just splattered paint all over the crowned prince of England. I'm not sure who is more shocked- me or him. He swipes his hand over his face, staring at the streaks of red paint now on his hand then looks back up at me.

Now, I'm a decent actress. I can school my emotions at any time with the best of them. But this… this… is way too funny. He looks like he was Victim # 2 in a generic slasher fic with a low low budget.

He narrows his eyes at my snort and giggle combo and starts to close in the distance between us. So, I quickly back away but he's too fast and his arms are longer than mine and as he pulls me to him he smooshes his face on mine, effectively transferring that damn paint onto me. I shove him then sprint to where there is at least twenty feet between us. He slowly picks his paint brush up with a mischievous grin on his face, his intent clear. By now the kids have noticed our weird little standoff and they are watching us like we were a tennis match or a wand duel between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. Me being the Gryffindor, of course.

I don't have much paint left on my brush and I don't know about his, but I do know I have red paint and he has blue and no matter what it's gonna make a mess. But as the adult me is thinking about collateral damage and the clean up it will entail, the child me is looking at this man grinning with this care free smile that it seems only I am honored to get to see and it takes both adult me and child Me's breath away.

So, fuck the mess.

He casts his spell… I mean, he flings his paint brush forward… first, then it's On. Like. Donkey. Kong. I am talking utter chaos as the kids join in. All I can say it I am so glad that we covered the floor first. It becomes this weird battle of girls vs boys which I am pleased about because I am the outsider here and I swore it would be me vs all of them because he's their crown prince and all.

Because all things must come to an end and because Marcus is a fuckin' killjoy, we calm down after he screams, 'Paint. Got. In. My. Hair.'

So, I turn to glare at him. "So, paint is all up in my hair, too. You ain't special."

If looks could kill, y'all.

I ignore him as I am apt to do and survey the damage. Ms. Davies has reentered, and her wide eyes are taking in the very messy children. I don't bother apologizing because these children are laughing and smiling, and I am sure that isn't a normal occurrence in their lives. She catches my eyes and I know she sees what I see so she simply claps her hands together and tells them to go clean up and get ready for bed. They all grumble good naturedly but do as she says with hugs and waves goodbye to us both.

I finally look at Charming and he is worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, a sure sign he is regretting what just took place. Well, that won't do. So, I sidle up next to him and lean my head on his shoulder and look at the wall before us which took the majority of the damage. It had been white but now had red and blue paints streaks all over it.

"I like it. Very American abstract." He looks at me, surprised. "What did you think I was going to repaint it? I think it's just fine to leave it like this."

"It looks horrible, Bella."

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Charming. Besides, now every time the kids see this wall, they will remember that at least once in their lives, they were happy and full of joy. That makes this wall a priceless piece of art in my eyes."

His eyes are back on me. He lifts my hand up and brings it to his lips. "You're amazing."

"I know." I laugh then glance over at a muttering Marcus. "I think it's time to head home now. I think Marcus might turn into a pumpkin if we stay out any longer."

"Home." He smiles.

"Oh, well, your home which right now is where I'm staying." Maybe I just over stepped but the look on his face tells me I haven't.

"No, I like that you called it home."

I smile sadly but don't say anything. I've said it a hundred times before anyway.

We tell a harried Ms. Davies and several of her volunteers' good night then head out to the waiting car.

"I hope you're proud of yourself, Ms. Swan." Marcus spats in a very distasteful tone.

"Actually, I am. We did good here tonight, didn't we, Charming?"

He laughs. "Those children won't forget either of us anytime soon, I don't imagine."

Marcus scoffs in that way of his but doesn't say anything else for the rest of the ride.

The weather in London is about the same as Forks, in that it can go from calm and breezy to windy and rainy in a matter of seconds. Or so I'm told and the rain as we get out of car is fairly indictive of that. Marcus gets out with an umbrella which he uses to cover Edward. So, I'm left out in the rain quite literally. I shrug and follow. It's just water. I'll either melt, float or just get soaked.

Marcus doesn't say goodbye as he exits the way he entered and when Charming sees me he gets all red in the face and not because of the paint. He goes to follow but I stop him.

"Now, don't chastise him on my behalf. I'm more than competent to do that on my own. I'm a big girl. I can take it." I assure him.

But his eyes are not on me but rather my very soaked and now see through striped blouse under my jacket. I knew I should have worn a padded bra cause my nipples are elongated and visible.

I ruefully shrug out of my blazer and through it on the back of the dining room chair to dry out. I snap my fingers. "Charming! My eyes are up here! And I thought you were a gentleman. Tsk, tsk."

His eyes slowly leave the eye candy and peruse up to my face. "I don't have any idea where you came to that notion, Bella."

He steps closer to me now, lessening the gap much like earlier. And much like earlier, I step back. Back. Back. Wall.

He's in front of me now, with mere inches between us and I have nowhere to go.

"Why do you insist on running from me?" He asks.

Frankly, I have no idea, so I don't answer. I just know this probably isn't the best idea. Quiet house, dark house, charming prince, wet clothes, wet hair, wet… me, hard… him.

Yeah, he's that close.

"I'm a mess. I should go clean up." I suggest weakly. He just continues to look at me, all amused. "Paint. There's paint and these is a designer shirt. I should try to save it."

"What designer?"

"I have no idea." I breathe out.

"Hmmm. Well, let me help you out of it. So, we can clean it." He starts to lift my shirt off but hesitates in case I want to stop him. He is a gentleman in that regard.

I don't. Stop him, that is. It's off me and in his hand now. I straighten up to take it to the laundry room but instead he looks from it to me then opens a lower cabinet to my left and drops the shirt in the garbage pail hidden there.

"We both know there's no saving that blouse, Bella." His thumb rubs gently on my face. He removes it then looks at the faint blue lingering from earlier.

"I must be a mess."

"You're stunning."

And here I thought I might melt in the rain. Nope, melting right here where I stand.

"May I kiss you, Bella?"

"We both know where that can lead, Charming, and I don't know if I'm ready for that." I reply honestly.

"Just one kiss." He promised.

In response, I tilt my face to his and his warm lips touch mine gently before deepening it. It goes on and on for what seems like an eternity before he stops.

"I only had one kiss. I had to make it good." He teases.

I have no excuses for what I did next. Maybe, it was lack of intimacy for way too long. Maybe it was that we were alone. Maybe it was the rain.

As I yank his lips back to mine, I knew it was simply him. Everything about him encompassed my senses. And I knew that if I cross this line, then I may never recover.

He responds instantly, both hands thrusting into my hair as his tongue thrusts into my mouth. I have hardness on both sides of me; the wall to my back and him to my front. I'm suddenly thankful for my short torso and long legs that allows that hardness to cradle itself into my most private and wettest of places.

One hand inches down to the middle of my back and before I can blink my bra goes flying into the direction of the living area.

"What the hell?"

It's like cold water drenching me for the second time that evening. We gaze at each other briefly before jerking our gaze to Emmett who was just pelted with my flying brassiere.

I wonder what this looks like to him. Me topless, my bare breasts pushed into Charming's clothed chest, looking like a drenched cat. Speaking of drenched pussy…

"We were just…" I begin.

"She got wet…" He begins.

"Oh, I'm sure she is… wet. And I know this isn't my house, but can you take that to a more private setting, so I don't have to look at my friend's rack?" He bends over to pick up my bra holding it away from him like it will chew his arm off. He chucks it on the back of the couch and goes back the way he came.

I feel Charming looking at me, but I don't… can't… meet his eyes. I let myself get carried far far away from my goal.

"I'm just gonna go shower. I'm getting a little uncomfortable."

We both know I'm not talking about standing around in soaked clothes but ever the gentleman, he lets it slide. He presses a kiss to my forehead and whispers to me a good night before calmly striding to his own room leaving me to my privacy.

That's one of many things I appreciate about him. He doesn't hover.

I grab my blazer and my bra and head off to my private bathroom. Maybe a good hour's soak will cure what ails me.

Also, maybe a little shopping on Amazon. I can see my google search now.

Does Amazon sell chastity belts?

No? Might have to settle for a vibrator then.

I sigh once more as I look to his closed bedroom door before continuing onto mine.

"Hey Siri? Has anyone died due to extreme horniness?"

I listen to British Siri.

"Not horny nurse. Horniness!"

Looking at the list of websites asshole gives me, I chuck my phone on the bed and sink next to it.

"What have I gotten myself into?"

"Interesting question." British Siri ponders.

I shoot my phone a dirty look and decide to just leave it where it is and grab a dirty romance novel.

Tonight, my fingers will just have to do.

What a sad fucking substitute.