Let's continue, shall we?

Thanks to my team for making all of this work.

Kneeling in front of each other, we let things slow down, content even if it's just briefly. There's a shift in the air, both of us knowing I'm about to shed the last piece of my broken self for good.

I'm a caterpillar on the cusp of discovering her butterfly within, and I've never felt more beautiful in my life.

Even when Edward reaches behind me to unclasp my bra, his lips landing on my shoulder in soft kisses as he pulls the straps down and away, I don't let my scars define me and take away the beauty he makes me feel.

"Corner of the dresser," I offer weakly, wishing his eyes didn't see the deep silver line in the center of my chest. It tells stories we don't need to hear right now, or maybe not ever.

But I can see it in his eyes. I can see how he pieces it together, pictures a faceless man pushing me down and the center of my chest taking the brunt of my fall. I see the fury he struggles to keep in line as he imagines it happening, but I bring his gaze back to mine with a finger on his chin.

Not tonight.

I don't have to say it out loud, but I know he hears them. He remembers tonight is about us — and no one, or nothing, else.

He doesn't look at me like the damaged woman I used to feel I was. Instead, his eyes rake down over my body, stopping at places that make his mouth open and his tongue lick slightly across his bottom lip.

I watch as his lips land at the top of my scar, my fingers running through his hair at the touch of his lips on my skin. He kisses down the rigid line, bringing life back into the dead flesh and back into me.

His lips linger, his breath hot as he slides his mouth over to the left of the scar, my head falling back when he eventually rolls his tongue over a nipple and into his mouth. I'm falling, fast; possibly before it's even begun, and I'm more than okay with it.

It's the kind of spiral a woman deserves, and as his mouth and tongue heal and preserve all that was broken before him, his other hand inches up my waist, my stomach, stopping to caress and knead my other breast between his hand and fingertips.

I'm panting his name in whispered worship, the ache between my legs stronger than anything I've ever felt before. I wrap a leg around his waist and judging from the sound that escapes his mouth, I know he can feel the heat of my want for him through his boxer briefs.

And I don't know if I can wait another minute longer.

"Please," I whimper into the dark gray of my room, pulling him back to my lips in desperation.

Breathing heavily, he nods in understanding, pulling me flush against his body as he shifts us, so we're lying on my bed.

"I'm yours, Bella."

See you tomorrow!