Beta: Frannie

Prereaders: Jill, Pearly, and Ariel

My heart: Full if love for my readers and reviewers.


"So...that drink?" Bella asks, regarding me as if I may pounce on her at any second.

I mean, the look on my face is very likely what made her think that if the thoughts in my head were any indication.

Bending her over the bar, forcing her on her knees in front of me, making her ride me in front of everyone, winding my fingers in her hair, and finding out what her lips taste like.

Just to name a few.

It's as if I've claimed her without even consciously choosing to. She's wearing my shirt, so she's mine...right?

Your work, yes. That's it.

"Corona with lime, please." I scowl again when I speak because I don't expect my voice to be low and strained the way it is. Surely there's just a frog in my throat. Like it's on my ass.

What am I even talking about?

I try not to groan when she turns around and bends toward the beer cooler, her jeans slipping down to reveal just a tiny bit of cerulean blue lace.

Her panties are the same color as my shirt. I repeat, her panties are the same color as my shirt. This. Is not. A drill.

I do a right job of squeezing the lime into my beer. Usually, I just push it down into the bottle, but apparently, I don't fucking know anything about myself when Bella is in front of me.

"So, if I'm coming face-to-face with my stalker, I think I deserve to at least know his name," Bella jests, crossing her arms under her chest and leaning over on the bar to push her cleavage right the fuck out of my shirt.

Her tits aren't even that big; how dare they be so...in my face? Rude.

"First, not a stalker. And second, it's Edward."

"Just Edward? Like Prince? Madonna? Bono?"

"Uh, no. Edward Cullen."

Silence. No other word said. Just big brown eyes staring into my soul like she's capable of seeing all my secrets.

Hell, maybe she is. Who am I to say? I don't know a goddamn thing about a goddamn thing, apparently.

"If you're going to accuse me of being a stalker, I think I have the right to know the name of the girl I'm stalking." Right. Because I'm not supposed to know that information.

I give myself a pat on the back.

"Oh, so you are stalking me?" Except, this time, when she says it, she's smiling. An impish little grin that would make me hard if I wasn't already.

And maybe a little playful. Since when am I ever playful?

"Negative." Honestly, I'm lucky I was able to even get that much out.

I manage to get a laugh from her, and fuck me if it isn't better than hearing it through electronics. Why couldn't she laugh like a donkey so I can find something wrong enough with her to run for the hills?

"My name is Isabella Swan. But my friends call me Bella."

"So, can I call you Bella?"

"I'm not sure yet."