(Fourteen)

She storms through the door again minutes later.

A whirlwind with red cheeks and bright eyes, she shoves me hard in the chest. It's unexpected, and I step back away from her.

"That night on the bridge, why did you go out of your way?" She's breathless and accusing as if I purposely tricked her into living. "Why did you help me? I need to understand before …"

"Before what?

"Edward, please."

I rake my hands through my hair, my reasons as elusive as my resolve to stay away from her. "I don't know. I couldn't leave you there."

"Some people would've let me be … "

"Be what? Dead?"

"Yes."

"Is that what you wanted?"

"I don't know … and I don't know what this is." Her hand flits between us. "But … I need to know what it is you want."

"Bella," I warn her.

"Tell me. What do you want?" She whips around the apartment searching for something. I follow her as she's rifling through the matchbooks. "Is this it? Romy 515-1227 from The Blue Pig." She drops the book to the floor, picking up another. "Jane from Vito's. Lucy from Star and Garter. Is this what you want? What I am?" She holds out one to me—I know what it is before she puts it in my hand. The Red Lantern. "Am I one of your collection?"

"No," I say, cementing its truth in my own mind as the word leaves my mouth. She's more than that. She's too much to ever be a moment in time, a distraction. "You're not one of those."

"Then what am I? A charity case? A game? Why do you want to be around me?"

"Why wouldn't I?" I toss the book back on the table and reach out for her, but she steps away.

"Do you always do that?"

"What?"

"Answer with another question? It's infuriating."

I spread my arms in supplication. "What do you want to know?"

She takes a step closer, lowers her voice and her eyes, before they're back on me. Dangerous intention punctuates each word. "What do you want?"

"You."

Her breathing hitches her chest with the certainty of my answer.

"So what's stopping you?"

"Myself."

"Why?"

"I want you. Like I've never wanted a woman before … anything before … with the exception of only one other thing."

She blinks as I step closer again, as I pull the zipper of her coat down and push it off her shoulders. This time she stops my hands, wrapping cold fingers around my wrist. "You think I'm bad for you?"

"I know you are."

"I think you're bad for me," she says.

"That's true, too."

"Then we shouldn't do this." But instead of pushing me away she lets go of my wrist, lets my hands and eyes trespass.

"No, we shouldn't," I repeat, but we're deaf to it, our ears filled with the roar of doing what we want. I find the edge of her sweater and slide my hand up against her warm skin. "Will you stop me?"

She shivers under my touch. "I don't think I can."

I look at her then. I give her a chance to stop this. I've gone too far already. She's chasing through my veins—nothing short of death will stop that. I think she can live without me. If she wants to. But then I see the way she's looking at me, the parted lips, flushed skin—I'm already written all over her. She's mine, and I won't let her go. "Then don't."

There's no time for tenderness. No time to savor her. We're teeth clashing and lips finding whatever they can in the split seconds between breaths. Ferocious desire as she grabs my hands to take her clothes off, then when I'm not quick enough she pushes back and rips at them herself.

We don't make it farther than the hallway. We don't undress, her clothes only removed enough to allow me in, my jeans pooled on the floor as I pull her body to mine. Her still-cold fingers dig into my shoulder blades. I lift her up on the small table. Have to steady myself against the wall to slow down. Consider whether I can make the few paces to the dark bedroom. She whimpers as I step back, locks her ankles around me, forcing me back into her arms. "Here," she breathes.

I feel her hand wrapping around me, warmer and gentler. I shudder out a moan as she moves slowly, each downward movement pulling me closer. All the hesitation and ways I had planned to draw this out leave my body in a breath of air. I let her guide me, steal the last bit of time before we're both done for.

The need to be inside her surges through me like an electrical current. I hook my fingers in her panties and pull them to the side, sliding in with one thrust. She cries out and raises her hips, her hands scrambling for grip on my back as I pull out and push back in. Again. Again. Again.

Sounds fill my ears. The thud of her back against the wall, hot puffs of breath humid against my neck, jaw, and lips, the rattling of the table.

I want to see more of her, to watch as I touch her and unravel her from inside out, so I carry her to the bedroom.

Lowering her on the bed, she moans at the loss of contact, panting and flushed, slick with our sweat. Her breasts shudder with every breath. I reach out and cup one in my hand, pinching and twisting, moans pouring out of her.

"Edward, please."

I kneel and grab her hips as they lift back to me again. Sliding back into her and allowing myself to feel deeper than I'd dared imagine.

There's nothing other than me and her and this. How she feels, how she makes me feel. The scent of her skin, her breath. The sounds. There's nothing else. No one else. No reasoning. No thought. Just want. She screams, quivers around me, grasping and suffocating because there's nothing left to breathe than each other.

I don't think about Em's warning. I don't think about the 12 steps, or the risk of falling with Bella—someone who has a less than stable grip on her own life. Almost as unstable as mine. I'm heading from one addiction straight into another. I think she is, too. Both of us on the run with nowhere else to go.

Now I know what she's capable of making me feel, I'll never be able to get enough.

It's the beginning and the end.

AN: Thank you, thank you, thank you, lovelies. See you all soon. xx

(Choc, Cat, Kim - ILY) x