A/N: Sorry that I've missed a few update days! I had my birthday (thanks for all of the birthday wishes) and I just started a new job! However, things are about to get intense with this one so please look forward to more updates!

20

With him, I forgot to breathe. After leaving me to flip the window sign from "open" to "closed," he took his glasses off and set them down on the front desk. Without them, he looked fierce and just as passionate as me. The energy in the room shifted, making the space feel smaller. When he was like this, it felt like he could swallow me up. I felt so small—so helpless—and I wanted to weep for him.

I pressed the back-room door opened and moved inside, waiting for him to catch up on me. Were we really going to do this? Were we really going to be physical with each other at work? While waiting for him, I could barely breathe. I stared at the doorknob as the tension built in my belly. Adrenaline built inside of me, causing my knees to shake.

There was too much energy flowing through me. I wanted to use every ounce of it on him. The doorknob turned, and I nearly jumped. If I weren't so focused, I'd find humor in my energy and laugh at myself. Instead, I pressed my thighs together and waited to see his handsome face.

Would his eyes be dark and dangerous? Would his desire be as clear as day? I wanted him to take me on the breakroom table. On the floor. Against a bookshelf. I wanted to mark every inch of this place with our scent. Then, it would feel like ours—part of us instead of just the building we worked in.

As soon as the door opened and he moved inside, I felt my body sway. It was dangerous to want someone this much. His eyes were just as dark as I'd hoped they would be—filled with desire and passion—and as he entered the room, I found my body moving, meeting his halfway.

I couldn't risk losing a single moment with him, so I found myself unable to wait the few seconds for his body to reach mine. As soon as I met him in the middle of the room, our limbs tangled together. Without his usual grace and control, he pushed me back until my bottom hit the back of the table. Then, he nearly took my breath away as he broke our kiss and picked me up, holding me close for a moment as his lips found mine again before setting me down on the table.

Now, my body truly felt like his. After a moment, his lips left my mouth to find my neck. His tongue ran across my delicate collarbone before he pressed back on my sternum, pushing me back down gently against the table. On my back, I felt like I was truly a meal waiting to be eaten.

His lips moved from my collarbone to my sternum, and then to my breasts. Over the fabric of my shirt, his lips trailed along the curves of my breasts while paying close attention to my nipples. A moan escaped my mouth as he sucked them through the thin fabric of my shirt and lace of my bra. Unable to help myself, I reached down and pulled the garment off before dropping it next to me on the table.

In a beige, lace bra that was sexy without being too over the top or adventurous, I felt even more exposed than I did when completely naked. His eyes were hungry as he stared at me. If I hadn't been watching him so intently, I would have missed the way his tongue darted out to skim along his bottom lip.

With my heart racing—disbelief that we were actually doing this still filling me—I reached behind my back and, with shaky fingers, unfastened my bra. As soon as the straps were slack against my shoulders, I shimmied the fabric down, revealing my breasts.

His mouth found my nipple, and he sucked gently as his hand made its way down between my legs. My panties felt drenched, and I would be embarrassed if I weren't so elated. Before, I had never felt so open and free. Sex had been a chore—never something to make me feel wet or excited. He cupped my crotch and another moan passed softly through my lips.

Unable to help myself, I rubbed my clothed core against his palm, enjoying the slight friction the action provided. So passionate, I felt dizzy. I could easily pass out from want. I wanted to plead with him, but every time I opened my mouth, there wasn't a single word that could pass through.

My back arched off the table as I let my hands wander up his back until they came to rest on the back of his head to guide his movements. As my fingers tangled in his hair, I continued to rock against his open palm. Could I cum like this? Already, he had made me cum so many different ways, that I felt like anything was possible.

His mouth left my nipple, and I groaned in disappointment. Every time a sound escaped me, it seemed to surge through him until it reached his soul. Did he wonder what my voice sounded like? Did he remember my singing from our night together on the rooftop when I saved his life? He had to remember, didn't he? Even though he was drunk, somewhere in his mind, he had to remember. Those were things you just didn't forget and that—a drunken night of near suicide—felt like one of them.

"You're just as needy as I am," he uttered before reaching down to unbutton my pants. He pulled off my trousers, leaving me flushed and nearly naked.

At work in the breakroom in nothing but my panties, I could barely think. Dizzy from lust, I let my thighs fall open and watched as Edward moved to stand between them. With a needy moan, I reached down and pulled at the buckle of his leather belt. If I was exposed like this, he needed to be too.

"You're so beautiful," he uttered as his gaze raked over me. "Do you want me like this?"

I wanted him in every possible way. As my eyes moved over him, taking every inch of him in, he reached down and freed his cock from his pants. Although his belt was undone and his pants were unzipped, he only let them fall to his thighs and remained fully clothed as he reached out and pulled my panties down and off my legs.

I squirmed against the cool air, enjoying the way it danced over my wet slit. Soon, the feeling of the air was replaced by the feeling of his fingers. He ran them along my folds, playing with my core before letting them wander toward my clit. As he paid extra attention there, my back arched away from the table again as another moan escaped my lips. His face lit up at this, and any hesitation from before was completely erased from his features.

Now, he looked certain about me. At least, he looked certain about this. Even if our minds were in different spots and our souls had been through hell, our bodies wanted each other. There was nothing else to understand. We desired each other and took what we wanted. If that was all this could be now, I would accept it.

I'd accept him—no matter what happened. Edward was mine from the moment I saw him, and even if we ended up being no more than strangers, he would still be in my heart. Love just seemed to work that way. It didn't make sense and followed no rules or guidelines. You didn't find love. Love found you.

With my heart filled with love and my body waiting to be filled with him, I looked up at him with a pleading expression. I didn't care how pitiful I looked. I needed him inside of me now. I wanted him fucking me. Filling me. Driving me crazy until I reached my peak. I wanted this table to be covered in our scents. I never wanted to enter this breakroom again without thinking of this.

His forearms flexed—veins protruded—as he reached out to pull my body toward him. My body slid along the wooden table until my wet core was less than an inch away from his cock. With his eyes on me, he reached down to line himself up with my entrance.

It was sexy, seeing him fully clothed and ready to fuck me—like he didn't even have the patience to undress. His need could be felt in the air around us, weighing us down with his passion as he finally pressed into me, pushing his tip into my wet core.

A sigh escaped us both then. Relief rang through my body, causing my limbs to vibrate softly against the table. He was teasing me, giving me a little without pushing fully inside. Naturally, I pouted, and when he saw this, he laughed, seeming happy by the way my body grew more and more desperate.

Eventually, too needy to wait, I began to rock against him, wanting to take more of his cock inside of me. A little gasp came with every thrust. I couldn't stop. I needed all of him. Before I could groan out of frustration, he grabbed my hips and thrust into me without mercy.

The movement was harsh and unforgiving. He was done playing games. Now, his body was needy too, moving on instinct rather than skill. Everything about his movements were intense and animalistic. He'd had enough of thinking and now needed to feel.

My back began to ache, but I didn't dare move. I'd deal with the bruising and consequences tomorrow. Angled like this, he was hitting the perfect spot—driving himself toward the most tender location that made me squirm against the table with every thrust. His body loomed over mine as he bent over to kiss me.

This kiss was wet and sloppy and perfect, matching our passion and natural movements. Everything was entirely driven by need and nothing else. Was this lovemaking? Was this fucking? Was this something ever experienced before? Why hadn't sex always felt like this? Soon, I was spiraling before being sent over the edge.

My first orgasm hit me with such force that my vision became dark and blotted. Edward was gripping me with white knuckles as if he feared I would go somewhere. Where would I go? Would I evaporate into air? Would I leave him here to face this world alone? He didn't have to cling to me for me to stay. Now, I knew no reason. I could follow him happily to destruction and not regret a single thing.

He reached between my legs and played with my clit again, working me up until another orgasm was on the horizon. Perhaps he wanted to cum together. That would be a first for me. Cuming with someone must feel divine—like a shared moment that could never be replaced. I wanted to share that experience with him, but today wasn't in the cards.

Edward pulled out, cuming all over my stomach. In our haste, I barely noticed that he hadn't put on a condom. But of course, who brings condoms to work? Besides, Edward didn't really seem like the sort of man who would carry protection around with him in his wallet. Covered in his cum, I barely cared about experiencing another orgasm right now. That was long forgotten.

I ran my fingers along the soft curve of my lower belly, enjoying the way his cum felt slick against my skin. Perhaps it was gross, but I didn't want to wash it off. Could I walk around covered in it all day? A smile tugged on the corners of my lips as I nearly laughed at my own absurdity. Edward Cullen had fucked me into ridiculousness. He should feel proud for pushing me past my limits. I should feel proud for letting go.

With cheeks as flushed as mine, Edward peered down at me with a soft, relieved smile before pulling back. I hated feeling him leave, even if it was only for a moment.

"Let me clean you up," he said as he pulled some napkins from a container on the counter and came back to wipe away his cum from his stomach.

When I reached out to try to stop him, he must have thought I wanted to hold hands. So, he did just that, holding my outstretched hand with one of his while he used his other to wipe away the remainder of his cum. The action felt strangely intimate, like something a couple would do rather than two friends who were fucking. Then, a question filled my mind again: What was I to him?

With the way he acted, it was hard to believe I was just his friend, but hell, what did it matter? I was enjoying this, wasn't I? Why ruin something good?

"I don't know what came over me," Edward remarked with a short, nervous laugh.

Was he worried that I was mad about this? I wanted this too. I peered around the kitchen until I found a pad of paper by the microwave. I jumped off the table, nearly falling over as my knees wobbled, and walked over to grab it. I could feel his eyes raking over my body with every step I took.

Usually, in a well-lit room like this, I would feel insecure about my body. However, I wanted him to see me. Even if that meant seeing every unwanted curve and dimple. Around him, I felt beautiful, and soon, any of the imperfections that I would usually think about were forgotten.

After I grabbed the paper, I quickly searched for a pen. So many words were flowing inside of me and needed to pour out. This was another source of relief that I needed, and without a voice, all of my words became a throbbing mess. I snatched a pen out of a drawer and moved back toward him, hoping I could write something before he could speak and say anything else.

"I don't know what came over me either. Thank you for that. You always make me feel brand new."

I pushed the pad of paper toward him and watched as he read. A smile tugged on his lips, matching mine.

"You make me feel brand new, too, Bella."

I loved the way he said my name; it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

"Can we leave it at that then? I don't have to push you further than you're comfortable with. I know what you've been through. I'm so sorry for that, too. Just know that I'm here for you. Always."

His lips turned toward a frown, and I felt my stomach drop. I didn't want to bring up old wounds, but I wanted him to know that he had someone in his corner. That had to mean something.

"You, too. I'm always here for you. And maybe, I just need time. Would that be … would that be all right?"

Every word sounded unsure. Like me, it sounded like he wanted so much more than he was willing to express. I pulled the pad of paper back toward me and quickly answered him.

"Of course. I'm always here for you."

He was quiet for a moment, contemplative, before he added, "A while ago, I almost felt like I could open my heart again. It was frightening. Even drunk, I was so afraid. I wasn't proud of that night … but it sparked something in me."

Where was he going with this? Was he meaning the night he almost ended his own life? The night I had saved him from himself. Does he really remember that? Does he remember me? As he continued to speak, I held my breath, hoping to God he would say what I so desperately wanted him to. If he knew me from that night, it would change everything.

"I was drunk one night and thinking of ending things when someone saved me. Her voice … God, it was the most beautiful voice I had heard in a long time. She felt like a small light in a world of darkness. I clung to her then … and since then, I've clung to that night.

"I've always wanted to thank her. Let her know that if she hadn't been there, I could have … I could have …"

He choked on a sob, and then, his words ceased. Tears filled my eyes. In just a few sentences, he had said more than enough. I didn't have to press him any further. He remembered that night. He remembered me. That changed everything, didn't it? I sparked something in him. I'd been his light. For the first time in a long time, I felt as though there was a meaning to my existence. I wanted to chase this feeling.

Chase it until I could finally feel like a whole person.