"Nothing haunts us like the things we don't say."

- Mitch Albom -

Sleepless

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

My question was quiet, just a hushed whisper. As Carlisle turned to look at me, I was surprised by the sudden tenderness in his eyes. There was uncertainty in them as well, and he clearly hesitated for a moment before answering.

"I don't know. Do you want me to stay?" he asked, turning onto his side and propping his head on his hand. He reached out to take a lock of my hair in his fingers, bringing it to my lips. It tickled.

"Of course, I want you to stay," I murmured. "But only if you want to stay. It's not like I'm going to tie you to the bed or anything."

He blinked at my words, his eyes suddenly unfocused.

I chuckled. "Okay. I just heard what I said, and I realized what it sounded like. I always say something stupid, when I try to be cheeky."

He drew in a shallow, slow breath. "You know, it's not at all stupid, what you just said. Actually..." he leaned down to press a soft kiss on my lips, his hand beginning to peel back the bed covers, "I wouldn't mind at all if a pretty woman like you tied me to the bed. I'd find it rather...pleasant."

I giggled. "I'll keep that in mind."

He smiled. His fingers began to draw idle patterns on my bare shoulder. "So," he leaned down to nuzzle my neck. "You really wouldn't mind if I stayed?"

"Of course not." I shivered as his lips pressed against my pulse point.

"Well, in that case...I'd love to stay. I have to get up early, though. I need to pick up some papers from my house, and I have a few things to take care of before my first class."

"Were you supposed to be doing those things tonight?" I asked. "Did I ruin your busy schedule, Dr. Cullen?"

He pulled back to look at me, easing the covers away from my bare chest. His warm fingers stroked over my stomach and ribs. "You didn't ruin anything," he answered with a small smile. "Quite the opposite. You made this day worth living."

I rolled my eyes. "Now, you're just exaggerating."

He shook his head, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. "Believe me, Bella. I'm not."

I heaved out a shallow breath as his fingers traveled from my ribs to my other breast, and then I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning as his thumb circled my nipple. Despite the pleasure his tender caress was giving me, I began to feel slightly self-conscious under his heated gaze. He was studying my bare body, like he was trying to memorize every curve and dip, his eyes following what his hands were doing. As he moved his fingers to my other breast, giving it the same, gentle attention, he caught my eye.

"What is it?" he asked softly, apparently noticing the uncertainty in my eyes. "Does this bother you?"

I shook my head. "No, I mean...it feels nice." I hesitated. "I just have this small complex, that's all. About..."

"Your breasts?" he supplied, frowning confusedly. "Why on earth?"

I chuckled self-consciously. "No reason. They're just so tiny, that's all."

He shook his head. "Tiny? That's absurd. I know this sounds like a huge cliché, but I'm being honest when I say you're perfect just the way you are. And these breasts..." He shook his head again and actually licked his lips. That sight...it should have been illegal. "Why would you feel like that about yourself?" he asked, his voice gentle. "Have you always thought this way?"

I shook my head, hesitating. "No, not always. It's just...well, it's just something my ex said. It stuck with me for some reason. It's stupid, I know."

His eyes darkened. "Your ex-boyfriend said your breasts are too small?"

I shrugged. "Kind of. He made it sound like he was just trying to be funny and make this seemingly innocuous joke about it. And then, he wondered why it bothered me. He said I was being too sensitive, and I had no sense of humor."

Carlisle blew out a slow breath and shook his head. He was silent for a long moment. "No offense, Bella, but this ex-boyfriend of yours sounds like an incurable idiot."

I chuckled. "No offense taken, believe me. There's a reason why he became an ex."

"I applaud you for that decision. Even more so because now I'm the one who gets to do this." He leaned down and captured my nipple in his mouth. A moan welled up in my throat as his tongue swirled around it in slow, torturous circles.

"Carlisle..." My fingers dove into his hair. "Oh, my...keep that up and we'll never leave this bed."

He hummed low and deep in his throat, his teeth closing around the hard bud and tugging gently. He continued his torture for a while, and by the time he stopped and drew back, I was breathing heavily. He shifted, crawling over me to press a soft kiss on my mouth, while his hand palmed my other breast.

"Truly, Bella," he murmured against my mouth. "Your breasts could bring a man to his knees. Do you believe me?"

"Uh huh," I managed to moan. He could say anything he wanted, and I'd agree.

"Good." He began to pull back, but I wrapped an arm behind his shoulders and held him to me. My other hand began to travel down his body, and he moaned quietly, squeezing his eyes closed as my fingers wrapped around him. I was surprised when he grabbed my wrist gently and pulled my hand away. Opening his eyes, he brought my knuckles to his lips, giving me an apologetic glance. "Bella, if you keep going, I'm afraid I'll lose all reason."

"I won't mind," I answered, wondering why he had stopped me.

He looked almost embarrassed. "The thing is...well, I don't have anything with me. I only had one condom."

"Oh." I gave him sly smile and eased my hand from his gentle grasp. He hissed as my hand found him again. "That's not a problem," I whispered.

His pupils dilated visibly. "Do you mean...are you on the pill?"

I shook my head. "I can't use anything hormonal because of my migraines. But I have a copper coil."

"You do?"

I nodded, biting my lip and smiling.

He chuckled softly. "How come you didn't say something before?"

I shrugged. "Talking would've taken too much time and focus."

"I see." He nuzzled my neck with his nose. "Have you been tested?"

I nodded. "I'm clean."

He hummed softly against my skin. "You know what? So am I."

"Mmmm. Interesting."

He chuckled again. I moaned quietly as he captured my lips in a searing kiss, and then...

My stomach growled loudly. He pulled away and began to laugh – I realized I had never heard him laugh like that before. The sound was intriguing, wonderful. I had no time to focus on that, though. I was busy pulling the bed covers over me and trying to hide under them. My cheeks were flaming.

He pulled the covers away, smiling widely at me. "I'm terribly sorry. I've been neglecting your other needs." He placed a tender kiss on my mouth before drawing back again. "May I prepare you dinner, my beautiful Bella?"

Smiling at the unexpected endearment, I gave a glance at the clock. Our tumble in the sheets in the afternoon had messed up my sense of time. "You can cook?"

He shrugged. "A little bit. I live alone, after all. I have to feed myself, and eating out every day would get boring."

"Okay. I have to tell you, though, that I only have things like eggs and vegetables. I'll have to make a grocery run tomorrow."

He assured me eggs and vegetables were just fine. We got up and began to gather our clothes, and as Carlisle was pulling on his pants, I snatched his pale blue shirt from the floor and put it on.

"Do you mind if I borrow this?" I asked him, quirking an eyebrow at him. He smiled.

"Not at all. It suits you very well."

I chuckled at his expression as I began to button up the shirt. He swallowed and closed his eyes, like he was struggling to keep himself under control. As I bent down to pick up my panties from the floor, doing so very slowly, I heard him groan quietly behind me. Smiling to myself and pretending I didn't notice his reaction, I pulled them on, once again very slowly, and when I straightened myself, a strong arm wrapped around me from behind.

"If you keep that up, Bella, you're not going to get dinner," he whispered in my ear, pulling me against his chest. I wondered if it was a threat or a promise. I shivered at the roughness of his voice. For these few short weeks I'd known him, he had been all gentleman. But in the bedroom...in the bedroom, he seemed to be bold and forward. I liked it.

His fingers began to undo the few buttons I had just fastened. He slipped his hand under the shirt, running the tips of his fingers across my stomach.

"But I'm so hungry," I answered, pretending to pout.

"Not hungry enough, apparently." My spine prickled as I felt his lips on my neck. As his hand slipped down to the waistband of my panties, my stomach growled again. I felt his chest shake with quiet laughter, and then he closed the buttons of the shirt. "Alright. Dinner first."

As I led him to the kitchen, his gaze was like a physical touch. I was suddenly very glad I had stolen his shirt, since this meant he was half-naked. I had never had a man cook me dinner before, half-naked or otherwise.

I began to go through the fridge and cupboards, taking out eggs, bread and tomatoes. Carlisle asked where I kept the knives, and I pointed him toward the drawer. I apologized for my boring ingredients, but he just shook his head and smiled.

"How does a tomato omelet sound?" he asked.

"Perfect. Can I help?"

"Not under any circumstances. You just sit down and take it easy. You serve and wait tables for a living. It's about time someone returned the favor."

I relented, thinking to myself that this was very sweet of him. I sat down at the table, but I got up almost instantly. "Can I at least set the table? Please?"

"No. Honestly, Bella, don't make me tie you to that chair."

I chuckled and sat down again. Propping my chin on my hand, I just watched him move about my small kitchen. Every once in a while, he asked me where I kept things, like pans and spatulas, and I answered dutifully, though I was tempted to see if he might make good on his earlier threat if I got up.

Around the time he began to chop the tomatoes, I began to wonder if he worked out – his shoulders, arms and back were toned and muscular, flexing with each movement he made. Maybe he sensed my intense gaze, because he turned to look at me after a while. Almost immediately, his eyes dipped lower – I had opened the top few buttons of the shirt.

He stopped what he was doing, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. Slowly, he placed the knife on the counter and drew in a deep breath. Then, his face took on a determined expression, and he turned away, almost like he had to force himself to face away from me. "You know, Bella, this short time I've known you, you've appeared to be so innocent and doe-eyed, and now..." he shook his head, "I should've known underneath there was a minx waiting to get out."

I chuckled. "Blame yourself. You kind of brought it out of me."

He pretended not to hear what I said. He just began to chop the tomatoes again, spreading them on the hot pan he had placed on the stove a moment ago. Then, he proceeded to beat the eggs, throwing a quick look over his shoulder, maybe to see if I was still watching him. Of course, I was.

The omelet he made was delicious. As we ate, talking idly about everything and nothing, I found myself wondering why he seemed to be against serious relationships, why he felt like commitment wasn't for him. He seemed to be enjoying himself, after all. Any other man who was just after sex and nothing more would have been out the door by now. But Carlisle had wanted to stay – or at least it seemed like it. I had no way of knowing what was going on in his head, after all. It was possible when he'd leave tomorrow, I might not hear from him again.

I had to remind myself I was the one who had said we should take it one moment at a time and see where this would go. Carlisle was here now, and that was all I could ask for. I was the one who had suggested we keep this casual. If it turned out he'd lose interest now that we'd slept together, well...there was nothing I could do about it. I'd deal with it if I had to. When I had to.

I tried to search myself, wondering if I was really as nonchalant about this as I appeared to be. I liked him, this I knew. But did I like him too much? Already?

Maybe.

After we had eaten, I suggested that, since he had cooked, I would do the dishes. Carlisle refused to hear of it. He gave a pointed glance at my bandaged hand.

"It doesn't even hurt," I told him.

"It will tomorrow. And besides, you should keep it dry for now. Warm water will only irritate it. And if the burn blisters, remember not touch it. It could cause an infection."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Fine, Dr. Cullen."

"You're not a very good patient, Ms. Swan."

"That's weird. I've had a lot practice over the years, after all." I grabbed a kitchen towel from the counter. "Fine. You wash, I'll dry."

It surprised me how...easy this was. When I was in Carlisle's company, I had this strange feeling, as if I had spent a long time with him, like I'd known him for years, instead of just a few weeks. Like this upcoming night we were going to spend together wouldn't be our first, but our hundredth or thousandth.

Maybe it was the romantic in me talking.

I wondered if he was feeling the same. Or maybe he was just happy he had come across someone who wasn't expecting commitment from him. Was that why he seemed to be so at ease in my company, why he was so relaxed? Because I didn't have any expectations?

I was suddenly anxious to distract myself from these thoughts. After I had put our plates and glasses in the cupboard, I turned to him. He was drying his hands, but I noticed he was observing me closely. I went to him, running the tips of my fingers along his bare, muscular arms.

"Can I tempt you to take a shower with me?" I asked.

He closed his eyes and hummed quietly. "I'm already tempted. However," he took my bandaged hand in his own and kissed it gently, "I'm still thinking about this. Doesn't it hurt at all? I'm worried that a hot, long shower will only add to your discomfort."

"Who said anything about a long shower?" I asked, smiling playfully. "Maybe I was thinking something like a quick, hasty wash."

He pressed his forehead to mine, pulling me closer to him. "Believe me, Bella, if you drag me into the shower with you, we're definitely not going to come out anytime soon."

I pretended to ponder. "Well, let's see... Hmmm. You know, when you really think about it, sometimes, we're just victims of circumstances. I guess we just have to accept that. The truth is, I really must take a shower, and I must take you with me, because," I raised my bandaged hand, wiggling my fingers, "I can't wash my hair with this. Shampoo would irritate the burn, you see, and I might not survive. Which means your presence is mandatory."

He mock-sighed. "Well, I see I have no other choice but to accompany you, then. What a terrible fate I'm about to face."

I chuckled, taking his hand and pulling him after me. As I walked, I began to undo the buttons of the shirt, and I heard him let out a quiet groan as I shrugged it off, letting it drop to the floor.

"I think you'll live, Carlisle."

When we fell asleep that night, we were just a heap of entangled limbs. Carlisle had been right – our shower hadn't been exactly quick. We'd stayed there for what seemed like hours, kissing, touching, exploring, intertwining with each other, until we were trembling and out of breath. We would have probably carried on much longer if the hot water hadn't run out. When it had, Carlisle had carried me to my bed and simply continued where we'd left off.

I didn't think my body had ever experienced this much pleasure ever before, and I wondered to myself if there would be an insane amount of endorphins in my veins even days afterward.

When I drifted off to sleep that night, I was more than relaxed. More than content. A moment before dreams whisked me away, I realized it was even more than that.

I was ridiculously happy. I told myself it was just the pleasure hormones and nothing else. The sound of Carlisle's breathing set the rhythm for my own, and I snuggled closer to his warm chest, sighing contently, as he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me even closer.

I woke up sometime during the night, and I instantly knew it couldn't have been morning just yet. It was still dark outside, but I had this feeling I'd been asleep for several hours. I wondered what it was that had awoken me – for some reason, I felt as if there had to be a reason. I wondered what time it was, and I was about to turn onto my back and reach for my phone on the bedside table, when I realized Carlisle's warm, bare chest was no longer pressed against mine.

And then I heard it.

I had been right before; I hadn't awoken without a reason. Something really had disrupted my sleep. I heard a soft moan from the other side of the bed – a distressed moan, the kind of sound one made when suffering from pain or trying to choke back a scream. Frowning, I propped myself up by my elbow and reached for Carlisle in the darkness. He was lying on his side, facing away from me, and when my hand touched his bare back, I realized he was covered in sweat.

I sat up and switched on the light on my bedside table. I turned back to him, sitting on my calves and tentatively touching his shoulder, wondering if he had gotten sick during the night.

"Hey," I said quietly, trying to wake him without startling him. My worry grew when I saw that his face was twisted in obvious agony. When I heard him inhale a sharp, trembling breath, I shook his shoulder gently. "Carlisle."

He jolted awake so violently I jumped. At first, he didn't seem to be aware of my presence, and he sat up quickly, running a trembling hand down his face. Inching closer to him, I reached up to touch his temple. It was warm and sweaty, making me wonder if he was running a fever.

My touch seemed to bring him back to the present, and he gave me a glance. The expression in his eyes frightened me a bit – I imagined only injured animals looked like that.

"Are you alright?" I asked him tentatively, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "What's the matter? Are you ill?"

He swallowed thickly and shook his head. It was a moment before he could answer. When he did, his voice was breathless, like he had just run a hundred miles. "No, I'm fine. I'm sorry if I woke you. I didn't mean to." He drew in a deep breath. "I'm fine."

I frowned. "No, you're not. You're all sweaty, and a moment ago you were moaning like you were in pain. What is it? If you're sick–"

He shook his head, taking another deep breath and letting it out slowly. "No. I'm not sick. Don't worry about me. This happens...sometimes." He paused, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and putting his face in his hands. "It was just...it was just a nightmare, that's all." I wasn't sure if he tried to convince me or himself. Maybe both.

"Does this happen often?" I asked carefully. I wanted to ask what the nightmare had been about, but I had a feeling it was too personal.

He inhaled deeply before answering – I realized he was making an effort to keep his breathing regular. I reached out to touch his shoulder again in a poor attempt to offer him comfort. It worried me to see him like this – I had never seen anyone reacting to a nightmare so strongly.

"Sometimes," he answered. "It's nothing to worry about. I'm sorry I woke you. I'm sorry. I..." he let out a regretful sigh, "I shouldn't have stayed."

His words hurt me more than they should have. My hand slipped from his shoulder as he got up and fished his boxers from the floor. He pulled them on before heading into the joining bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

I blew out a sigh and ran my fingers through my hair, wondering what to think of his words. I was still a little shaken as I remembered the look in his eyes after he had woken up. What had he been dreaming about? What kind of a nightmare could possibly cause a grown man to end up in such a state? It must have been bad.

I realized the sheets on his side of the bed were drenched with sweat. I began to strip them off, and as I went to the closet to get fresh bedding, I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was just before four in the morning. Since I no longer felt sleepy, I pulled on a t-shirt and panties, throwing a concerned glance towards the bathroom door. I heard water running – it sounded like he was washing his face.

I had just finished changing the bed linens when Carlisle emerged from the bathroom, dabbing his face with a towel. Maybe it was the lighting, but I thought he looked paler than normal. The dark circles under his eyes seemed more prominent. His hair was moist, like he had run wet fingers through it. He glanced at the pile of sheets on the floor and gave me an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry about that."

I gave a confused chuckle and sat down on the edge of the bed. "About what? Having a nightmare?"

He avoided my gaze and didn't answer. I patted the bed next to me. He hesitated at first, but then he crossed the room and sat down, leaning his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together.

I watched him closely. "You said this happens sometimes," I began carefully. "Does it mean you've been suffering from nightmares for a long time now?"

He gave a soft, joyless laugh. "You could say that."

"How long has this been going on?"

He didn't answer right away. "For a few years." He flicked me a glance and gave me a small smile. "Don't worry about it, Bella. I'm used to this. I'm only sorry if I startled you. I didn't mean to."

"I know that. It's okay, you don't have to apologize."

"Go back to sleep. It's early."

I had a feeling he wouldn't be joining me, and I didn't want to go back to sleep without him. I kept watching his face closely; that tormented look from earlier was suddenly back again. I brought my hand to his neck, my fingers beginning to play with his hair. He closed his eyes at my touch.

"Is this why you take walks at night?" I asked carefully, wondering if I was crossing some invisible line. "Because you have nightmares?"

He was silent for a moment. "The two are related, yes."

"Have you ever...I mean, if this has been bothering you for years, have you ever tried taking any medication to help you sleep?"

Again, he didn't answer right away. I wondered if he found my questions too personal, intrusive. But I was worried about him. Now I knew why he always looked so tired, as if he hadn't slept in days. I wondered when the last time was he had gotten a good night's sleep.

I heard him draw in a deep breath, before he let it out slowly and opened his eyes. His voice was forcibly calm. "I used to take medication, but it was no use, to be honest. And besides, when it comes to sleeping pills... well, they aren't for everyone. I learned that the hard way."

I wondered what he meant by that. I kept playing with his hair, sliding my good hand down his neck, and then I began to knead the tight muscles of his shoulders and back. He was tense, like a tightly wound spring. Again, I wanted to ask what kept him awake nights – what his bad dreams were about – but somehow, I just knew it was unlikely he would answer.

I had to try, at least. Something clearly troubled him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked gently as I continued to rub his shoulders and back. "What are your nightmares about?"

I could feel him tense under my touch. He stayed silent for a few seconds, before drawing in a shallow breath. "I'm...I'm sorry, Bella. It's not something...it's not something I feel like talking about. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Don't apologize. I'm not forcing you to talk about it if you don't want to. I just asked, because I'm worried about you, that's all."

He relaxed visibly and swallowed. "Don't be concerned about me," he murmured softly, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "And I'm sorry, again, that I woke you up. You should go back to sleep. Do you have an early shift at the café?"

I had a feeling he was anxious to change the subject. I nodded to answer his question. "Yeah."

Carlisle glanced at the clock, and then he turned to me, ushering me to lie down on the bed. "Well, you don't have to get up just yet. Go back to sleep."

I grabbed his elbow with my good hand and pulled him with me. He hesitated but complied, easing himself down on the bed next to me. I turned onto my side to face him. He seemed calmer now than a few minutes ago, but there was something in his eyes that made me worried. There wasn't just restlessness in their blue depths. I saw agony and well-concealed exhaustion, and again I found myself wondering what tormented him so badly he couldn't escape it, not even in his dreams.

I reached out to stroke his cheek, slowly beginning to draw idle patterns on his skin. I traced the shape of his jaw, before drawing the tip of my forefinger across his lips. Then, I explored the shape of his cheekbones, noticing how his eyes slipped closed at my touch. I continued my gentle exploration, running the tip of my finger over the bridge of his nose, before trailing my fingers across his forehead. I brushed back some of his blond locks, enjoying the silky feel of his hair against my skin.

I was so absorbed by what I was doing that it took a few moments for me to realize Carlisle's breaths had slowed; he was asleep. I continued my gentle exploration for a while more before turning out the light. Then, I shifted closer to him, closing my eyes.

Sleep wasn't far away. In a matter of moments, I was breathing in the same rhythm with him.