A/N: This is a very personal chapter for me. And my absolute favorite. Be kind with it :) And thank you for all the kind reviews. Every time my phone dings and I see it's a review, I get a shit-eating grin on my face. Shit. Eating. There's no grin that tops that.

Day 4: Part 4

That Feeling

I ran to Edward's, chain-smoking the whole way.

Alice answered the door, and when she saw me, promptly shut it again.

I collapsed on the porch, folded my arms around my knees, and waited.

In my mad rush to get out of Jasper's, I had remembered to grab my coat, which had been perched on the steel standing coat rack in his foyer. I had hesitated before I brought it down to me; Jasper and Tanya had an absolute plethora of jackets, coats, and raingear, all hung with delicate precision on the various branches of the rack. Many were hung on top of one another, but my coat was standing alone, hung separately and with the one branch on either side of it empty. As I'd reached up to take it, down I caught the strong smell of stale cigarettes that always clung to it.

I was embarrassed to take it, embarrassed to admit that this thick piece of cheap fabric, purposefully separated from all the fine, lavish materials that Jasper and Tanya's coats were made of, was mine. It was dirty and when I moved in just the right way, I could smell the cigarette smoke. This coat, an apt representation of who I was, was not good enough to mingle with the elitist and pretentious leather and tweed of what was Jasper's.

I was still wearing those fucking jeans I had worn to Jasper's for dinner a few nights ago, and they felt stiff and awkward when I pulled my legs to my chest. I rubbed my chin on the knees of the jeans, mostly out of habit, and was not met with the calm, scratching sensation I got when I wore my better jeans. No, not better jeans. My favorite jeans, the ones that were ripped on the inside of the back pocket and which had thinned considerably over the knees after too many wears.

I began to shiver. Edward had those automatic porch lights that Emmett and Rosalie still refused to put up outside their home, and when they shut off after a few minutes of no motion from me or anything else, I waved my hand frantically in an attempt to get them to turn on. So Alice knew I was here. So she knew I was still here.

I could be patient; bide my time until she or Edward opened the goddamn door again. I pegged her for a sentimental type. Someone who turned to complete and utter mush when watching one of those manipulative commercials about animal abuse. Or someone who fed those kids in Africa. Or someone who couldn't bear to see someone she might have once considered a friend, fucking sitting down on a snowy porch in the middle of goddamn winter.

I wasn't sure how long I sat there, curled around myself and shivering. I know I had eaten dinner around 7:00, but beyond that. . . .

I rested my head on my knees and thought about the way Jasper looked while pounding into Tanya. He didn't look different than he usually did in any tangible way; nothing about his face or his body suggested he wasn't the cool, collected, assoholic he always had been. But there was something about the way his head was thrown back and the way that he continued to fuck her long after he knew I was there.

Or maybe not.

The crunching of packed snow under tires snapped me from my reverie. I turned my head over my knees so I could see the approaching car, already well aware of whom it was. It was too dark for me to distinguish the color or make of the car, but the way it came screeching to a halt, turned off, and the sound of the front door being heaved open, I knew who was inside.

Edward.

"Bella." My name wasn't so much of a word, but an exhale. I knew that sound. It was the same sound I made whenever I stepped into the warm water of my sub-zero apartment, or the sound of the first sizzle of a cigarette after not smoking all day. It was relief, longing, desperation come to pass, and just . . . good. A good sound.

I didn't respond, just let him approach me. He did, but it was slower than I'd expected. Like he wasn't sure whether I was a cruel apparition or what I actually was: a pathetic 23-year-old, wearing nothing but a coat, jeans, and hooker books, huddling in a freezing mass on the front porch of his magnificent home.

The sound of his boots crunching the snow underneath them was welcoming. It let me know I wasn't the only thing here, wasn't the only one moving and breathing and existing here.

When he came to the cement steps of his porch, all of the automatic lights turned on and pointed themselves directly at him.

"Bella," he said, this time with more inflection. He closed the distance between us in one long stride and squatted down in front of me. "Jesus Christ," he whispered. "I didn't know if I'd ever – I wasn't sure – fuck, I don't know."

I raised my head until my chin was against my knees.

"Ed – " I started, and was surprised as hell that the last part of his name came out as a choked sob. He cupped the side of my face and I leaned into his hand. He was wearing leather driving gloves and I almost laughed out loud. This was an archaic man, designed with a soft face and a head of fire, brought, screaming to life, in the future to make sure that I was taken care of as well as any singular woman in history had ever been.

I looked at him. His eyebrows were furrowed together. I uncurled a stiff arm from around my legs and pressed my index finger to the skin that was pushed together between his eyebrows, trying to rid his face of the wrinkle.

"Edward," I whispered, afraid that any loud noise would ruin the still silence of the porch, "can I take a shower with you?"

His face relaxed and the right side of his mouth curled upward in a smile. I pressed my finger to it, pulling it a little higher, until both sides of his mouth were equal.

"Yeah, Bella," he said. He stood up and then bent down again, holding out a hand for me. I took it and he pulled me up with little effort, until I was flush against his body.

Then I attacked him.

It was a desperate kiss, needy and pathetic and I flushed. But he didn't seem to care.

He ran his tongue gently across the frozen bump of my bottom lip and I opened my mouth for him, letting his tongue move slowly over mine. I let it taste the back of mine, over my teeth, and let it press into the roof of my mouth. I didn't move mine in response, I just let him explore.

I let him take me, use me, do whatever he wanted with me, because it was only with him that I felt me.

At Emmett's, I tainted the air. At Jasper's, I felt every single movement of my head or every breath that escaped me was being judged, broken down, and morphed into something sinister and sub-human.

But with Edward, I could just be.

He laughed at my inappropriate, snide remarks and didn't flinch when I cursed or burped. He grinned; always grinning at me. Always waiting for me to do or say something else. Careful of me, protective of me. He was angry the second time I met him, sitting with him at Jasper's dinner table, because he knew something I didn't. He was angry that I wasn't on any medication for my panic episodes, angry that I was in Jasper's home. Jasper, who knew panic attacks and how to fix them.

Edward hadn't wanted me there. Wanted me to leave, so I didn't get sucked into the fucked up world that was Jasper Whitlock's subs.

Edward pulled away and I flushed again, angry that Jasper had crept into my head as I was kissing him.

"Come on," he said, taking me by the hand. We walked past his car and down the side of his driveway until he reached the garage. He pressed the garage code on the small receiver and held me, pressed his entire body to me, as we waited for it to open.

We stepped inside the garage, Edward's arm wound tightly around my shoulders, but he paused. I followed his line of sight and saw he was staring, with narrowed eyes, at the yellow Porsche. With a new fervor, he pulled me quickly inside the house.

The screen door had barely shut behind him before he barreled through the kitchen. His wet shoes made angry footprints on the ground as he walked towards the living room.

"Alice," he called, almost yelled, as he went into the living room. "Alice."

I heard footsteps come from upstairs and craned my head to look at the ceiling. I fought the urge to run.

"Yes, my dear Edward?" Alice called and her high voice echoed as she made her way down the stairs. She was hidden behind the wall that connected the stairway to the living room, so I couldn't see her. But I heard the light flitting of her footsteps stop. In a deeper voice, she asked, "What's wrong?"

Edward pointed his hand at me and Alice came around the corner, her arms crossed defensively across her chest. I wasn't angry with Alice. Self-preservation was a tricky bitch, and I understood, so completely, why she hadn't allowed me inside.

She couldn't lose me again.

"Bella," she said in a small voice. "Bella, I-I don't – "

I held up my hand. "I get it."

She closed her mouth and frowned, but nodded. She turned to Edward. "Fuck you," she spat, before turning lightly towards the stairs and leaving the room.

Edward gestured wildly after her. "She left you out in the fucking snow. You're not going to say anything to her?"

"If only she'd use her powers for good instead of evil." I said in a tone of mock-solemnity. I looked at him. "You don't need to protect my honor, you know," I said, sticking my arms under my armpits. I was fucking cold.

He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets, looking over towards the stairs where Alice had gone.

"She'll forgive you," I said. "But, and as much as I'd love to watch you just stand there and pout, I'm freezing."

"Oh, Jesus," he said. "Fuck, I'm sorry. Come. Come upstairs."

So he took me to his bathroom and turned the shower on.

And we stood, huddling in the middle of the sand-colored tiles and four white windows, and stupid, fucking brown door that hid the toilet, with my arms pressed into my chest and his long arms thrown around mine. And I cried. When we were tired of standing, we sat on the edge of tub. Then, we sat in the tub, my back against his chest and his cheek resting on the crown of my head.

"I'm sorry," I said. I pressed my head into his chest and raised my chin. When I raised mine, he too raised his and was now looking out the windows. "Hey," I said. He had his arms wrapped around my body, and I squeezed one with my hand.

"Hey," he said softly. He turned to look down at me. "Hey."

"You look like you're about to vomit," I said, smiling a little. "What's up?"

"Tell me what happened."

I did. He closed his eyes when I told him about the paddle and, if I wasn't mistaken, actually fucking growled when I told him about Jasper being an ass to me at dinner.

I left out the part where Jasper smirked at me after having come inside Tanya. The memory, of his lips pressed gently against her ass, made me want to simultaneously roll over on my back to expose my belly to that man and pee in revenge all over his playroom.

"I don't know what the fuck I was thinking."

He pressed his lips to my crown, without kissing, it and sighed. "You're not the first, Bella. And you certainly won't be the last."

"I thought I was good enough."

"Jesus," Edward said, his chest rumbling. "It's not about you, it's about Jasper. About his, his penchant for all that is forsaken. His obsession with collecting these girls that think they need his help." He squeezed me. "Bella, La Bella, you don't need his help. You can do this on your own. There's someone at the hospital that I think can help. It's my father, he – "

"Stop."

I said it quietly, but with enough force to let him know I was done. Done talking about, done hearing it, done remembering, rehashing, revisiting.

He sighed. "Okay." He shifted under me. "Um, Emmett called, by the way. Wants to know how you're doing. Said you're ignoring his phone calls and all."

"I don't want to talk about that either."

When we were done in the bathroom, he took me to his bed. I made a motion to take off my shirt, but he pulled my hands down and unrolled the bottom of my shirt, before pulling me under the covers with him. He lay on his back and I threw one of my arms across his chest. I rested my head in that little nook between his chest and arm, right at about the pit area, and curled up next to him.

"You okay?" he asked after a few minutes.

"Yeah."

And I was. Sure, I felt gross. I hadn't showered in two days and I was afraid to move too much, lest Edward get a whiff of my hair. But he continued to touch my dirty, greasy strands and it felt too damn good for me to muster up the proper amount of embarrassment to tell him to stop. Because I liked it. I liked him touching me.

I could feel his heart accelerate under my arm.

"This is good, isn't it?" he said.

"Hmm?"

"This," he said. He rested his palm against my head. "Being here. Here with you."

"It is good."

From my position, I could see him picking at the edge of his shirt, his fingers running over the fabric. Back and forth, in a slow motion.

"Spit it out, Edward."

His fingers stopped. "Spit what?"

"Whatever it is you want to say. I can feel your heart freaking out in your chest. Just say it."

"I don't have anything to say."

"What - Jesus." I rolled my eyes. "Do I have to go all Chinese Water Torture up in here. Seriously, out with it."

"La Bella – "

"Say it."

He took a deep, world-weary sigh. "It's stupid work stuff."

I move my head to look up at him. He had the same closed, concentrated look he had in the bathroom while looking out the windows, after hearing me talk about that shit Jasper did. That protective look . . . that look of anger. As though he was hearing these things said to him by his first-born. By his child. Someone dear to him.

My heart began to beat faster. "Bullshit."

"What – Bella, come on. It's seriously work stuff."

"You're upset with something," I said, noting his reaction again. "You have that angry look on your face."

He grinned, but his eyebrows remained pulled together. His eyes still closed. "That angry look? What do I have to be angry about?" Then his smile faded and he flushed, the tops of his cheeks turning pink. "I mean, besides the face that Jasper is a raging asshole."

"You didn't mean to say that."

"Say what?"

"The last part. You weren't feeling angry."

"What are you talking about – "

"Shut up," I said and he finally opened his eyes, looking down at me. "I know you're upset about Jasper, but you smiled at what I said. What the fuck?"

"You're mad because I smiled at something you said?" His eyes were practically dancing with amusement, but the rest of his face was still. His lips were indifferent, his eyebrows had un-creased.

"Why are you all serious now?"

He groaned. "La Bella, you spit it out."

And then it sort of hit me. Like a goddamn bomb. His eyes were still amused, glinting happily by what I had said. But he was still sad. There was some sort of depressed sadness in his eyes. I fought the urge to smack him. What the fuck did he have to be sad about?

"Oh, fuck, Edward. You're not pitying me, are you?"

"What? No."

I believed him.

"Then what – " I said, and then I gasped.

He furrowed his brows at me again.

"Oh, no," I said, scrambling to get out from under the covers, "no, no, no."

"No – what? Bella, what are you doing?" He raised his arms, allowing me space to move about, trying to get away from him. "What the fuck?"

"You," I said and my voice was accusatory. "You."

"Me? Me what?" he groaned. "Bella, what are you doing? Stop flailing."

"I have to leave," I mumbled, doing nothing short of hurdling myself off the bed. He had given me a pair of his pajama pants and a loose 'University of Washington' shirt and I contemplated just striping naked in his room but . . . not after that.

"Leave?"

"Yeah," I said, fumbling my way into the bathroom, where I knew my hair tie was. "Leave."

"Don't leave," he said.

"I-I'm sorry." I threw my hair up into a disheveled bun and when I left the bathroom, he was propped up against the bedroom door.

"Why are you leaving? What happened there?"

I tried to push him out of the doorframe, but he resisted my shrug.

"Let me go, Edward."

"Not until you tell me what the fuck just happened."

I laughed. "You're not my Dom, Edward. Don't try that shit."

He winced as the title left my mouth. We stared at each other for a moment and a distinct bubbling of panic began in my stomach. I pressed my hands against my stomach and closed my eyes. This was brilliant. This whole escape-as-fast-as-you-can routine hadn't worked well for me in Jasper's playroom and surely as hell wasn't working out for me here.

"Two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve, fourteen." I stopped as the nausea subsided. I looked up at him and took a deep breath. He had that sad face again.

"What was that?" he asked quietly. "That's not how . . . how you do . . ." He trailed off.

"Don't be jealous, Edward."

"What?" He gripped the top strands of his hair, pulling them upward. "You're not making any fucking sense. Spit it out, Bella."

We stared at each other for another moment.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You love me."

"What?" he cried, pulling harder on the strands of his hair he now had balled in each fist. "I don't even know you!"

"You fucked me."

"Doesn't mean I know you. Ever heard of a one-night stand?"

"Don't be an asshole, Edward."

"Look – okay, I'm sorry. I just – I don't love you. Not that you're not phenomenal or anything, 'cause you are and your self-centered ass knows it, but I've only known you for a few days."

"Fine," I said. "Then you're falling for me. Or you really, really, really like me. It's written all over your goddamn face."

He let go of his hair and his hands dropped to his sides. He narrowed his eyes. "That's a bit presumptuous, don't you think?"

"You didn't deny it."

"I've only know you a few days, Bella," he said, drawing the sentence out, making what he said sound self-evident.

"Deny it," I said.

"You're being stupid."

We both stared at each other again. His face was red in a mix of defiance and anger. My chest was heaving with the simultaneous efforts of not kicking him in the balls and reaching up to kiss him.

I chose the latter.

"Kiss me," I said.

"What?"

"Kiss. Me."

He hesitated. "Okay," he whispered, and he did.

His arms felt good wrapped around my body. He cocooned me. He had one of his hands, palm open, on the small of my back and another pressed against the back of my head, drawing me to him. He kissed hard and fast, not allowing me to move, not giving me any option but to stay with him, pressed flush against his body.

I moaned into his mouth and he gave a frustrated groan in response. His hand snaked up the back of my shirt and he gripped the flesh there, pulling me even tighter against him.

"Jesus, Bella," he said into my mouth and I almost smiled in return, loving the way my name was more of a strangled choke than anything else.

"Take me to your bed," I said.

He walked forward, pushing into me until I was forced to step backwards. Step for step, we moved until the backs of my knees hit the mattress and I fell backwards. He climbed on top of me and lifted my shirt up, balling the fabric until it rested underneath my bra. He kissed the bare skin of my stomach, the edges of my hips, my neck, my ears.

He raised his head and looked down at me. "Is this what you want?"

"I want you."

I swung my legs over the side of the bed so I was lying on top of it. He pulled my shirt off and unclasped my bra, swallowing as my chest was exposed to him. He kissed the crook of my neck and let his fingers trail down my chest and between my breasts, not touching them, but touching the soft crevice of skin between them.

I groped the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head. He tossed it to the floor.

"Bella," he said. "I have more to give."

I closed my eyes. "Then give it."

This time, his kisses were more controlled. Now that he had me, exposed and unmoving underneath him, he took his time. He griped my left shoulder and kissed it, alternating between licks and hot breath until the skin pimpled under his mouth.

My pants came next, and then my underwear. My hands found purchase in his hair and I wound my fingers between his strands, pulling on it until he groaned.

When his hand found my breast, I felt it; that electric pulse that had snapped when I ran back to Jasper's. I felt it. My body seemed to absolutely vibrate and I smiled in response.

Because it was right. It felt right. And good. So good . . ..

"Oh god, Edward," I moaned, pushing myself up to him, to his nakedness, to let him know that I felt it.

"La Bella," he whispered, taking a nipple into his mouth and wrapping his arm underneath my back so I arched up to him. "Fuck, you feel good."

And then I let my body take me over. I didn't think about Edward or of Jasper or of this complex bullshit that was making the electric pulse thrum in the back of my head. All I thought of was this delicate thing that I was creating here. I let myself feel; feel the hands trailing soft, tender patterns across my body, feel the burning need of desperation, feel the heat and wetness between my thighs, and oh, God and just feel.

I felt the body above me moan and grunt and pull and give, and I gave my body over to it. I sobbed out a choked noise of agreement and threw the back of my hand over my eyes, shielding myself from whatever the fuck this thing was that I was feeling.

"Bella."

The feeling stopped. I raised my hand off my eyes and looked up. Edward was looking down at me and frowning and I almost groaned in frustration. I didn't want to put a face to this thing, this feeling, this electrical pulse. I just wanted to feel.

"Let me feel," I said and tried to pull the back of his head down for a kiss.

"No, stop," he said, shaking his head against my hand. I let it drop. "Be here with me. You're not here. I just had to say your name, like, five times. Where are you?"

Where was I? I was in my head, in my body, living existentially through this fucking feeling.

"I'm here," I said. "I'm here. Right here, with you. In your bed, in your house, I'm here."

And then I was.

It was Edward above me. Edward's weight on my chest. Edward's hands kneading my breast and moving inside me. Edward's breath and body and sweat. Edward, Edward, Edward.

"Edward," I whispered, feeling myself clench around him. "Edward. Oh, fuck."

"Yes, Bella. Yes."

This is what I wanted. He was completely enveloping my body, taking what I had. Taking everything I had.

So intimate it felt like I was dying.

"I have more to give," he said, his voice distant and distinct against the almost silence of his bedroom.

"Then give."

His pacing became more frantic and I met his motions, word for word, and breath for breath. I felt the glorious, wonderful coil of pressure in my stomach. I came, shaking and almost sobbing, screaming his name and giving, giving, giving.

He shuddered, once, and then collapsed on top of me. I could feel him pulse inside of me and this time, I did smile. Huge and goofy. He looked down at me and grinned that stupid, sexy, lopsided grin of his.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said, burying my face into his chest. "It was good."

He echoed my word. "Good."

He rolled off of me and took the sheets out from under us. I wanted to get up and clean myself but decided against it. I wanted Edward with me, to stay with me.

Because he was all that was good about me.

I curled into his body.

"I have more to give, Bella," he whispered.

"I know, Edward. Go to sleep."

And we did, me curled against his chest and him wrapped both of his arms around my naked torso.

When I woke up, he was gone.