"Everyone has their weak spot.

The one thing that, despite your best efforts,

will always bring you to your knees,

regardless of how strong you are otherwise."

- Sarah Dessen -

Scars

I woke up to the feel of warm, soft lips on my cheek. Frowning and groaning quietly, I dragged my eyes open to see Carlisle sitting on the edge of the bed next to me. He was fully dressed. Damn.

He brushed a stray lock of hair away from my face, giving me a soft smile.

"What time is it?" I mumbled, struggling to wake up.

"It's just past six," he answered, whispering. "I wanted to wake you up to tell you I have to go. My first class starts at eight, and I have a few things to take care of before that."

"Oh." My eyes slipped closed again. "Wait. I'll make you some coffee before you go."

I heard him chuckle. "Thank you, but you don't have to bother. I can make myself some when I get home. I did switch the coffee maker on for you, however. It should be ready in a while. I also changed the dressing on your hand while you slept. Take some Tylenol for the pain."

It warmed me that he had done all those things for me. They were small and simple things, perhaps, but they made me feel...appreciated. I'd suppose people who were in a relationship did those things for each other all the time, but I guess I hadn't expected something like that from someone who was...well, just sleeping with me and nothing else.

"Thanks. That was very sweet of you."

He smiled, idly smoothing the hair back from my forehead and looking suddenly hesitant. "Can I see you tonight?"

My stomach did a tiny flip-flop. His question pleased me a lot more than it should have. "Of course. I'd like that."

Did I only imagine it, or did he seem...relieved? Had he expected a different answer? Who knew – maybe he had expected me to lose interest in him, now that we'd spent the night together? I had partly expected the same behaviour from him the previous night, but then, he had proved me wrong by staying with me.

"I'll have to work a little later than normal," he said, "but I should be free sometime after five. Would you like me to come over? Or would you rather come to my house?"

"Anything's good for me. I could come to your place for a change."

"I'll pick you up."

I shook my head. "Don't be silly. I can drive there myself."

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "Can you remember where I live?"

I hesitated. When he had taken me to his house that night to take care of my hand, it had been dark, and I'd been feeling more or less unsettled because of what had just happened to me. "Just give me the address. I hear they've been inventing these things called Google Maps, GPS and navigators, or something like that."

He chuckled softly. "Or how about if I pick you up like a real gentleman, and I'll show you first-hand how to get from your apartment to my house as quickly and effortlessly as possible?"

I turned onto my back and stretched like a cat, letting my eyelids fall lazily shut. "Is that a subtle way to say I'm invited to your house in the future as well?"

He chuckled again, his voice playful as he answered. "Perhaps. Let's see how well you behave tonight. Everything depends on that, I'm afraid."

"So, you want me to behave myself tonight? Does that mean I'm not allowed to be the bad girl that I am?"

I heard him growl quietly. I smiled, keeping my eyes closed.

"I want you to behave yourself now, so I – and you as well – won't be late for work." His voice was closer than I expected – I realized he was leaning over me. "Your coffee will be ready soon. Time to get up, I'm afraid." And then, without a warning, he pressed his lips to mine, and I squealed quietly and tore my eyes open, trying to keep my mouth closed and push him away from me. He ignored my resistance.

"Carlisle!" I managed to wail, when he released my lips. "Morning breath!"

"Yours or mine?"

"Mine, of course! Women don't want to be kissed first thing in the morning. An old, experienced man like you should know that!"

He only laughed softly, before claiming my lips again. I growled against his mouth, feeling his hands wrapping around my arms to keep me still as he coaxed my lips open, deepening the kiss. He continued to caress my mouth with his, until he felt me relax. My resistance melted away, and I wrapped my hands behind his neck and held him to me. Almost immediately, I felt him smile and begin to pull away.

The glimmer in his eyes made my stomach do cartwheels. "I've learned a few things about women, Bella," he told me, his voice low and deep, "And one of those things is they don't always mean what they say." He leaned in to place one last kiss on my mouth before he pulled away again and got up. "Your coffee should be ready. Have a good day. I'll see you tonight."

I felt all fluttery as he left my bedroom. After a moment, I heard the door of my apartment opening and closing. Drawing in a deep breath to calm down my racing heart, I got up and began to prepare for the day.

The hours flew by surprisingly fast. I was smiling the whole time as I worked, despite the fact that the burn on my hand began to throb painfully after a few hours of pouring coffee and carrying trays. I took Carlisle's advice and took some Tylenol, and the other waitress working her shift gave me a weird glance, probably wondering why I was smiling like an idiot while popping painkillers.

Rosalie came to see me in the afternoon, while I was on my fifteen-minute break. We took a table in the farthest corner of the café, and I asked her how the visit to Emmett's parents had been.

"Fine," she answered. "Emmett's sister was there as well, and I still have a feeling she hates me for some reason or another. You know, I never understood why she..." She was about to continue, but then she began to gauge my expression more carefully. "Bella, why do you look like that? And what happened to you hand – again?"

"Oh. I burned it yesterday, that's all. It's not bad."

"You know, a person who's burned their hand shouldn't be smiling like that. What's up with you? Seriously. Only people who've had at least two orgasms recently look like that."

I blushed and chuckled, suddenly wishing I had a camera with me. I observed her face carefully, dying to see her reaction, when I spoke the next words. "Well, last night, I had three of them, actually."

Rosalie's eyes nearly bulged from her head. "What? Who did…how did…what did…" She opened and closed her mouth, apparently not knowing which question to ask first. I chuckled.

"What happened?" she eventually managed to ask, leaning closer to me. "Who did you hook up with?"

I rolled my eyes. "Aren't we a little too old to say 'hook up?'"

"No, and that's beside the point. Tell me everything – and don't leave anything out, do you hear me!"

I glanced at the clock. "My break will be over in a few minutes, so here's the short version…"

"I don't want the short version," Rosalie hissed irreverently. "I want the long, detailed version."

"And I'll give you one later, I promise. But anyway, long story short, I was taking a walk on Sunday, and guess who I ran into?"

"As long as it's not James, I'm happy to hear the answer."

"Believe me, if I happen to run into James, I'll make sure I have Emmett with me. Anyway, I bumped into Carlisle."

Rosalie was simmering with curiosity now. "Really? Did he say why he didn't call you?"

I told her everything. I told her how I'd tried to pretend I hadn't even noticed him, and how he had called my name after seeing it was me. I told her how he had apologized for not calling me, and how I'd at first thought he was just feeling guilty about it and nothing else. When I got to the part where he had run after me and kissed me – hard – she was squealing. Rosalie never squealed. Wow.

"We got to talking and, well...he came to see me yesterday," I explained, blushing furiously, "And then, he stayed the night."

Rosalie leaned over the table, her blue-green eyes glimmering. "Well, how was it? Was he any good?"

I shook my head at a loss for words. "You have no idea."

She giggled. "Was he, you know...was he...well equipped?"

I blushed again. "Let's just say every part of me knows I spent last night with a man and not a boy. If you know what I mean."

"Oh, I think I do know what you mean. Three orgasms? Really? All at one go?"

I stared at the table between us, slightly self-conscious. "No, I mean...we had dinner in between. He cooked for me."

"Aww. That's so sweet. Emmett never cooks."

"He always brings you pizza."

"That he does."

I chuckled, getting up from my seat and preparing to get back to work. Rosalie grabbed my hand and held it tightly, like she was about to drown or something.

"No, you can't leave yet!"

"My break is over soon. Do you want me to get fired?"

"At least tell me what you found out about him! Do you know how old he is? Do you guys have future plans? How many children does he want? What's going to happen now?"

"Well, I'll go over to his place tonight. He promised to pick me up. And yes, I found out how old he is. He turned forty-five last winter, but apparently, it doesn't bother him if it doesn't bother me. As for the future..." I trailed off, shrugging, "I don't know. We kind of agreed to keep this casual. He's not...well, he's not looking for anything serious."

"So, you two are just messing around? Why doesn't he want anything serious?"

I hesitated, wondering how to explain the situation, since I wasn't fully aware of the details myself. "He said something like he's not cut out for long and committed relationships, and...well, I was the one who suggested we just take it one day at a time and see where this goes."

Rosalie frowned. "Why do you think that is? I mean, does he have issues with commitment, what?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. I'm not sure." Again, I hesitated, wondering how to explain. The conversation Carlisle and I had had on Sunday seemed rather personal, and I wondered how much I should tell Rosalie about it. I felt like I was about to tell her a secret that wasn't mine to tell.

I sat down again, searching for words. "He told me something happened to him, something that apparently makes him now view these things differently. I don't know what that something is, but I have my own suspicions."

"Oh?"

"When I ran into him on Sunday, he was coming from the cemetery. And in this short time I've known him...well, he's seemed...sad. There's no other word to describe him, really. It's like he's grieving. He's light and playful one moment, and a second later, it's like he's a different person. And he always looks so tired. Now I know why – he's having trouble sleeping. I noticed it last night." I paused, biting my lip. "A few days ago, you suggested that maybe he's nursing a broken heart. Maybe you were right, in a way."

Rosalie was frowning in a pondering manner. "You mean..."

"Maybe he lost someone. Maybe that's why I saw him coming from the cemetery. And maybe that's why he seems so sorrowful all the time. He doesn't just seem as if he's grieving, he is grieving. And that's why he's not able to start serious relationships with anyone. He can't get over the person he lost."

"Maybe." She gave me an inquiring glance. "Doesn't it bother you, though, that he has one foot out the door, so to speak? Why did you agree to have a relationship with him if there's no future? I'm not against it – I'm just curious. It just doesn't seem like you, that's all. You've never been good at casual."

I shrugged, again unsure of how to answer. "I just want to be with him. I don't care how long or short it lasts. I just...I just have to learn to live one moment at a time, that's all."

"Okay." I could tell Rosalie was trying to see the truth behind my words, but she dropped the subject. "Well, what do you think? Why is he grieving? Did he lose a close friend? A parent? A girlfriend?"

"I have a feeling it has to be a woman. I don't want to ask him about it, though. He said the things that trouble him are hard for him to talk about. I don't want to pressure him."

"Maybe he's a widower," Rosalie suggested, making me raise my eyebrows. I hadn't thought of that, which was kind of stupid of me.

"You think he was married? And it's his wife who died?"

She shrugged. "It's possible. There's a way to find out, you know. Ask him what he thinks about marriage in general, or ask him if he's ever been married himself."

I bit my lip, uncertain. "I guess I could do that. It's just that…he just seems like a very private person. I'm not sure how he'd react, if I asked him something so personal. Since we agreed to keep this casual, he might wonder why I'm prying. I suppose a part of me is worried that asking about it will scare him away. I mean, what are the rules in this type of relationship? Is it okay to ask about personal stuff like that?" I shook my head, frustrated. "I'm lost. Now I know why I've always found casual relationships so problematic – because they can be even more complicated than regular, committed relationships. I've never been in this situation before."

"You and Ben were messing around in high school. That's the most casual I've seen you."

"That was different. It was high school. And besides, I already knew Ben before I began to date him. There were no delicate subjects to tiptoe around, because I knew everything there was to know about him. It was...easy."

Rosalie bit her lip in a pondering manner. "Do you often feel like that in Carlisle's company? Like you have to tiptoe around certain topics?"

I had to think about that for a moment. "Well, not really. I mean, there are a lot of things that bug me, a lot of things I'd like to know about him. I guess I do feel like I have to be careful about certain matters – when I asked him why he didn't want to start a serious relationship with anyone, he said he's not ready to talk about it. That he might never be ready. All I know is something happened, something he doesn't want to discuss. I guess it makes me...I don't know, cautious? I guess I'm worried about saying something that might upset him. Something that might make him realize what we're doing isn't wise."

Rosalie was silent for a long moment. "When you asked him why he quit being a doctor, what was it again he said?"

"He said it wasn't the field for him, or something like that."

"What if..." she drummed her long nails on the table, "What if that has something to do with this as well? I'm not ready to believe he just suddenly had a change of heart. I mean, who quits being a doctor, just like that? The education alone takes over a decade to finish, after all. I think the reason behind his decision to quit is graver than he's let on."

I hadn't thought of it that way, and I knew she could be right. If Carlisle had lost someone, like a wife or a girlfriend, for instance, maybe it'd had an impact on his decision to quit medicine. His scars, wherever they had come from, seemed to run deep. Or maybe they weren't scars at all. Maybe they were still open wounds. What had happened last night supported it.

I wondered if those nightmares plagued him every single night. If so, I couldn't understand how he stayed sane. He said he had gotten used to it, that this had been going on for several years...

I let out a slow breath and glanced at the clock, cursing quietly. "I have to get back to work."

"Keep me posted. Oh, we have a cancellation on Friday at eleven. Would you like to take it? I'll give you a facial, and you can give me that detailed version of what happened last night, like you promised." She winked at me. "Or do you have to work on Friday?"

"Yes, but I have a later shift. I'll take that cancellation." I didn't like facials that much, but sometimes, getting one was the only way to spend some quality time with Rosalie. I'd learned this long ago.

"Great! I'll book it for you. And Bella – I'd suggest you ask Carlisle if he's been married. You're not crossing a line if you do. Besides, if a question like that scares him off, it's not worth it to keep him around. Men who scare easily are more trouble than they're worth. Trust me."

I tightened my apron, promising to think about it. At the same time, though, I kept wondering if I was crossing a line by asking something like that. Since I'd been the one to suggest we keep this light and casual, would he begin to question my motives, if I started to ask personal questions like that? Would that ruin everything?

And what did it say about my motives if I decided to ask? The truth was, I wanted to know him better. I wanted to know what was weighing him down, what had put that ancient, deep sadness in his eyes, and I wanted to know what made him take walks at night, when those nightmares kept him awake. I wanted to know all that, but the question was...did I have the right to know? The right to ask? Especially since he was expecting our light and casual relationship to stay just that – light and casual. Less personal. If bringing up unpleasant, even painful matters might drive him away...knowing what I knew, could I bring myself to ask him about these things?

I knew Rosalie was right – if questions about marriage or stuff like that scared him away, he probably was more trouble than he was worth. But I also knew something else.

I wasn't ready to let him go. Even though I'd only spent one night with him, I wasn't ready to risk losing the little we had.

I was glad I had stuff to do after getting off work. I went grocery shopping and ended up staying at the market a lot longer than I'd intended to. When I eventually made my way back to my truck, it was four thirty. I drove to my apartment and changed quickly, and after that, I threw together a sandwich, while I waited for Carlisle. I felt so wired that I made myself tea instead of coffee, hoping it would soothe my nerves.

It didn't. I took my hair down from its ponytail and began to nibble at my sandwich, sipping my tea and staring at the clock, no longer feeling hungry. When there was a quiet knock on the door, I jumped up from where I was sitting and went to let Carlisle in.

As soon as I opened the door and saw him, my nerves settled. I literally felt every muscle in my body unwind with a surge of something wonderful, something unnamed. I felt completely enervated, but in a good way, as if my whole body recognized and acknowledged his presence.

He smiled as he saw me, and I thought to myself that he looked way too good in his black slacks and blue button-down shirt. The blue tie around his neck matched his eyes perfectly, and I realized I wanted to take it off and do things with it.

"Your timing is perfect," I told him with a playful smile. "Or mine is. My boyfriend just left, you see. Now, you can have me all for yourself, and you don't have to compete for my attention."

"Ah," he chuckled softly, stepping inside. "Thank you for making things so effortless for me. Although, I'm afraid I must insist you break up with this boyfriend of yours." He leaned in to place a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth. "I don't like the thought of sharing you."

"Good news, then!" I continued playfully. "He didn't like the thought of sharing me, either. And when I told him about this handsome, blond stranger I met a few weeks ago, this boyfriend of mine got too intimidated and decided to leave. So...you win."

"That is good news." He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. When he pressed his lips to mine, all those muscles that had been completely relaxed a moment ago suddenly hummed to life. "I'd like to ask you, though, if this is the first time you've double-booked," he murmured against my lips. The tone of his voice was jesting, and when he pulled back to look at me, his eyes held a twinkle.

"Yep. First time ever."

He chuckled.

"In all seriousness, though," I said and gave him a glance, my fingers playing with his tie. "I don't do that. Double-book, I mean. I've never been able to go out with multiple people at the same time. I don't understand how some people can do that. Isn't that...well, stressful?"

"I've never found it very pleasant myself," he agreed. "I'd imagine it divides your attention too much."

"I take it you've never done that, either? Dated several people at the same time?"

He shook his head. "Never. I don't do that. Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I kind of find it disrespectful for the other person. I understand the rules of dating and relationships have changed a lot since..."

"Since your faraway youth?" I supplied cheekily.

He rolled his eyes. "How indelicate of you, Bella. Now, I'm expecting an apology."

I chuckled, pressing closer to him. "Alright. That was very tactless of me. I'm sorry. You're not old, Carlisle."

He mock-glared at the wall behind me and pretended he hadn't heard what I said, apparently to convey that my apology wasn't good enough. I chuckled quietly again. Rising to my tiptoes, I placed my hands on his shoulders, enjoying the feel of his strong, solid frame against me. Batting my eyelashes at him, I shifted myself so our bodies were touching, and then I captured his lips in a slow, sensual kiss. His arms tightened around me, before his other hand dove into my hair, giving the long strands a gentle tug. It made me moan involuntarily.

I didn't pull away until I began to run out of air. When I did, I made sure every part of his body was aware of my vicinity. Every part. When I drew away, trying to put some space between us, he held me to him, refusing to let me go.

"I'm very, very sorry," I said again, smiling sweetly. "You're not old, Carlisle. You're just, well, twenty years older than I am. Oh. I did it again. Oops."

He blew out a breath and closed his eyes, shaking his head. A grin was tugging at his lips. "I'm going to punish you for that later," he murmured in a low voice. His words made me shiver, and his pupils dilated when he saw my reaction. That earlier grin made its inevitable appearance.

Suddenly, he sobered, though, and began to frown in a contemplative manner. "I suppose...sometimes, I do feel like I'm older than I actually am," he mused. "I feel like I've lived a hundred lifetimes, and it's strange, because I'm barely able to make it through this one."

I was slightly taken aback by the sudden change in direction of our conversation. My hands wandered to the nape of his neck and began to play with his hair. "Why is that?" I asked quietly.

He stared into space over my shoulder, staying silent for a moment. Then, he seemed to snap out of it, and a guarded look came over his face. He smiled at me, but it didn't reach his eyes, that smile. "Never mind," he said softly. "I'm just an old man making useless observations."

I chuckled. "You're not old," I disagreed again gently, "And I'm sure your observations are anything but useless."

"Well, be as it may, I'd much rather make observations about you than myself." He took a small step back to look at me, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. "For instance, I'd like to point out how pretty you look today."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and I haven't brushed my hair since this morning. In fact, I haven't even seen a mirror in several hours."

"And yet, you look ravishing."

I chuckled softly, turning away from him to hide the blush creeping onto my cheeks. His compliments shouldn't affect me like that – he probably said those things to all the women he dated. I went to the kitchen and threw away what remained of my tea and sandwich. Then, I grabbed my coat and put it on – it was raining outside – and that was when I realized Carlisle was watching me closely.

"What?" I asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the way he was looking at me.

He shook his head, smiling softly. "Nothing. Are you ready to go?"

Nodding, I turned out the lights and grabbed my keys and bag from the counter.

A minute later, when Carlisle maneuvered his car out of the parking lot, he asked me how my day had been. He turned on the windshield wipers, giving me a curious glance.

"Busy," I answered. "Rosalie stopped by in the afternoon, while I was on a break."

He nodded. "Rosalie? That friend of yours who was with you at the restaurant?"

"Yeah. The same Rosalie." His question made me remember the tall, blonde woman I'd seen with him at the restaurant. Kate, or whatever her name was. Even though I hadn't been willing to admit it back then, I'd been jealous of this woman I didn't even know. I also remembered wondering if Carlisle had a thing for blondes.

His next question made those thoughts suddenly reawaken.

"I'd very much like to officially meet this Rosalie one day," he said, keeping his eyes on the street.

I wasn't sure what he meant by that; I couldn't quite read his tone. It was something like amused.

I cleared my throat quietly. "You know, I believe I told you she's taken," I stated, trying to sound playful and casual.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "And I believe I told you I don't date multiple women at the same time. That's not why I said what I did. Didn't you once tell me the two of you grew up together?"

I nodded. "Yeah, that's right. She's my best friend. We're like sisters."

He smiled and flicked me a glance, and I suddenly wondered if he had brought up Rosalie, just because he wanted to see how I'd react. Did it mean he was testing me? And if that was the case...why?

"So, what's all this sudden interest in her?" I queried, deciding I might as well just ask about it. "Are you obsessed with blondes, since you're one yourself?"

He gave a soft laugh, signaling and turning left. "Not at all. Actually, I suddenly find myself very fond of brunettes." He gave me a small wink, making my stomach flutter. "I'd like to meet this friend of yours because, well, since the two of you grew up together, she's the one who can tell me all those funny, embarrassing stories about your childhood."

"Oh." I closed my eyes and shook my head, not sure if he was being serious. "Right. Well, that settles it. You're never going to talk to her. She'd have plenty of stories, believe me, and they all involve me falling and tripping and losing my balance. In other words, making a fool of myself on a regular basis. You've seen how clumsy and accident-prone I am – imagine how I was when I was younger. It's a wonder Renée – I mean, my mom – doesn't have grey hair."

He chuckled, throwing me a curious glance. "You call your parents by their first names," he stated. "I believe you've mentioned your father before – Charlie, was it?"

I nodded and shrugged. "It's just a habit. I've done it ever since I was very young. People always wondered why I didn't call them 'mom' and 'dad' like a normal child."

"Where do your parents live?"

"My mom lives in Phoenix. Charlie lives in Forks."

"Oh. Are they separated?"

I shook my head. "They divorced when I was just a baby."

Carlisle frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that. Sometimes...sometimes people grow apart, I suppose." He paused, sighing. "Things happen and...suddenly, they realize nothing in life is permanent."

I held my breath, waiting for him to continue, and also wondering what was behind those words. I knew this was the perfect opportunity to ask if he'd ever been married. Since he was asking me personal questions, it should give me the right to ask things from him as well, right? I was wondering, though, why he had wanted to know more about my parents. And why did he want to meet Rosalie and get her to tell childhood stories about me? Maybe he had been only joking, that was all. Maybe that was just empty talk to fill the silence.

"I'm sure some things are permanent," I mused, commenting on his earlier words. "I mean, life would be pretty bleak if nothing was lasting."

He gave me a familiar, sad smile, staying silent for a moment. "I wish I had your optimism."

I watched him carefully. "Why don't you have it, then?" I asked softly. "What made you lose it?"

His eyes left mine, and he began to stare over the steering wheel again. "It's a long story," he sighed, his voice forcibly calm. "I shouldn't bore you with it." He signaled again, turning onto a street that looked familiar. After a moment, I spotted his house. It looked just as refined and beautiful as the last time I'd seen it. He parked in the driveway, hurrying to open the passenger door for me, while I unbuckled my seatbelt. We didn't waste time getting inside – it was raining even more heavily now.

"Have you eaten?" Carlisle asked considerately as he closed the front door behind us.

I nodded. "You?"

"I had a quick bite before I left my office. Here, let me take that." He helped me take my coat off, and as I was wiggling my hands out of the sleeves, I winced as the burn on my hand protested with a jolt of pain. Carlisle noticed it.

"Has your hand been giving you trouble?" he asked, as he hung my coat in the hall closet.

"A little bit. I took Tylenol, like you suggested. But it's nothing. I'm sure it'll get better soon."

He wanted to take a look at it, anyway. "Let's go into the living room," he suggested. "It has good light."

Taking my good hand in his own, he led me along the hallway to double glass doors. Jesus Christ...glass doors. He opened them, urging me to step inside.

The living room was pretty much everything I had expected. It was refined, tastefully decorated and furnished. The walls were ivory white and adorned with paintings that looked expensive. The windows on the west side of the wall were...huge. I was kind of afraid to touch anything. Even the cream-colored couch looked like it was only meant for viewing, not sitting.

Carlisle seemed to disagree.

"Take a seat," he said with a smile. "I'll be right back." He went back to the hallway, no doubt to retrieve the first-aid kit I was already familiar with.

As I sat down, I gave a curious glance around me, wondering how long he had lived here. There was a large bookshelf on the other side of the room, and my eyes instantly settled on it. I noticed there was a row of framed photos on one shelf. I wanted to get up and go see them more closely, but that was when Carlisle came back. He gave me a brief smile, placing the first-aid kit on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"You have a beautiful house," I told him, as he sat down next to me. "Have you decorated it yourself?"

He shook his head and gave a laugh. "Heavens, no. I don't know a thing about these matters. I only chose the paintings and nothing else. I could easily live without any furniture at all, to be honest, but a friend of mine – who knows me too well – insisted I must at least have the walls painted and get a couch and a bed. She did most of the work – she's an architect and interior designer."

I tried not to think too much about this female friend of his who knew him too well. Drawing in a shallow breath, I looked around me to avoid his eyes. "Well, it looks very nice."

"I can show you the rest of the house as well, if you want."

I chuckled. "Okay. I'd like that. Although, I don't know if that's wise. The next time I get home, I'll realize what a hole my small apartment really is compared to this."

"Nonsense. There's nothing wrong with your apartment." He took my injured hand in his and began to take off the gauze. The base of my thumb was still the most irritated area. When he took off the dressing, he studied the burn carefully. "It's not blistering," he murmured. "It's a good sign. And there's no swelling, either." He reached out to take a small tube from the kit.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Antibiotic ointment, just in case. You can take this home with you." He squeezed some ointment onto a cotton ball and gently wiped the base of my thumb with it. It stung a bit. Then, he took a new non-stick dressing from the first-aid kit, gently placing it on the burn. "You know, if this keeps healing at this rate, you might not need these dressings anymore after a few days." He gave me a smile, wrapping some fresh gauze around my hand.

"That's good. And thanks again." I watched him carefully, observing the way he worked on my hand. It was like his long, tapered fingers, his steady hands, were meant for healing. He met my gaze – it was as if he had sensed my thoughts. "You know, I find it kind of hard to believe you quit practicing because being a doctor wasn't your thing. You seem so...well, you seem like you really enjoy this – like you enjoy helping others. Like it gives you a lot."

He looked away from my eyes so quickly, I knew I had said something wrong. He finished wrapping the gauze and reached out to take a roll of medical tape from the kit. I was about to apologize, even though I wasn't really sure what I'd said wrong, but he began to speak before I managed to utter a word.

"You're right, in a way. I used to enjoy being a doctor," he murmured, his voice oddly distant. He secured the gauze with a piece of tape. "But...things changed. I was honest when I said it wasn't the field for me. Some people...well, some people have to learn and discover things about themselves the hard way." He busied himself with gathering the supplies, maybe to avoid my eyes.

"And that's what happened to you?" I ventured to ask, watching him closely. He still wouldn't look at me.

"You could say that." He let out a quiet breath, closing the first-aid kit. He seemed to realize he had nothing do with his hands, then, and he laced his fingers together. He began to bounce his knee, like he was restless or agitated. I wondered if he wanted to pace.

"I'm sorry," I said, touching his hand gently. "I didn't mean to bring up an unpleasant topic. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

He finally turned to me, meeting my gaze and giving me a small smile. "You have no reason to apologize." He took my hand and squeezed my fingers, very gently, since it was my injured hand. He adjusted the gauze, making sure it was secure.

Accidentally, the tips of his fingers brushed against the long scar that ran from my wrist up my arm. I noticed he was studying the scar, just like yesterday, his thumb idly caressing the uneven skin.

"It must've taken a couple of stitches to close this up," he murmured, giving me a glance that was torn between worried and amused – I'd suppose he was thinking about the things I'd said about me being clumsy and accident-prone.

"Yeah. Like a thousand," I gave him a wan smile.

He was still examining the scar. "You said you fell on broken glass. How did that happen?" When I didn't answer, he looked up to see my eyes. "Did you trip?"

I swallowed, hesitating. "No, not exactly…" I drew in a deep breath, not knowing why it was so hard to tell him. It was easy to talk about this with Rosalie, after all.

Carlisle was frowning now – apparently, he had noticed something about this topic made me uneasy. "What happened?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle.

I focused on his hand that was still holding mine. "I did fall on broken glass, like I said. But I didn't trip." I let out a long breath. "Remember that ex-boyfriend of mine I mentioned yesterday? The incurable idiot, as you called him?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes?"

"Well, he wasn't just an incurable idiot. He kind of turned out to be an incurable asshole."

Realization dawned on his face. "He did this to you?"

I shrugged. "We were arguing...well, not arguing, not really. Long story short: I caught him sleeping with another woman – in our apartment – and later, when I confronted him about it, he got mad. He pushed me, and when I tried to reach for something to keep my balance, I knocked a large glass onto the floor, and it shattered. Needless to say, I followed. It took over three hours to get all the shards out."

Carlisle closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. His hand tightened around mine, but he quickly released his hold, remembering the burn. He ran his fingers through his hair, and when he finally opened his eyes, I couldn't read his expression.

"Where is he now?" he asked quietly.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't seen him in months."

"Was he charged for anything? Assault?"

I gave him a wry smile. "It was my word against his. And since I'm so clumsy by nature, apparently, the whole thing was my fault."

"He said that?"

I shrugged again. "He made it sound like he'd just nudged me a little bit – by accident, of course. I know I should've fought harder to make my own voice heard, but I just wanted it to be over. I just wanted to leave and never see him again, never even think about him again."

He nodded slowly. "What's his name? Do you know where he lives?"

I gave him a close look. "Why do you ask?"

He smiled darkly. "No reason. I just thought I might stop by and have a word with him."

I chuckled. "I know you can patch him up and everything after you've kicked the crap out of him, but still, I don't think it'd be wise of me to tell you his name. I have a feeling I'd have to bail you out of jail sooner or later if I did."

"It wasn't my intention to get caught." It was hard to read his expression – I had no way to know if he was serious or not. After a while, though, his smile softened. "To be honest, I detest violence more than anything. But I'd admit the thought of paying a visit to this man is very tempting."

I chuckled again. "Well, thank you for being so chivalrous. I don't even know where he lives, though. Like I said, I haven't seen him in a year. His name is James, but I'm not going to give you his last name. Just in case. If you someday find yourself in a foul mood and feel like you need to vent your aggression on someone..." I trailed off meaningfully, drawing a soft, joyless laugh from him.

"Right." He flicked me an inquisitive look. "How did you end up with a man like that? Is this James the person you were together with for two years, like you said that one day?"

I nodded. "That's him. The longest relationship I've had. How ironic."

His fingers found my scar again. "Was this the first time he mistreated you?"

"Yeah. I mean, he never got physical with me, until that one day. As for how I ended up with him...I don't know. He was charming and funny and easy-going, but I suppose I never actually knew him. I've later wondered how long he'd been cheating on me – maybe that stuff was going on all the time we were together. I have no way to know."

"Were there any telling signs of his true personality?"

"Not really. Like I said, he knew how to be charming. I guess there were these innocent-seeming comments every now and then – like the one about my breasts, for instance – but he always made it sound as though he was just trying to be humorous."

Carlisle snorted softly. I gave him a glance.

"I'm sure you're questioning my judgement right about now," I mused, giving a soft laugh. "You're probably wondering how any intelligent, self-respecting woman can end up with an immature idiot like him. What can I say? I was blind. I thought I knew him, and I believed I loved him...and then I had to learn the hard way that, maybe you can never really know the other person. That maybe you can never be sure about anything."

"I don't know," he murmured. "I'd like to believe some people have the opportunity to come to know the other inside and out. But it means taking risks and…putting a lot of trust in something that could be taken away from you at any moment."

I had a feeling he knew what he was talking about. I watched him closely, noting the bleak look in his cornflower blue eyes. He seemed to sense my gaze, and he looked up to meet my eyes. A small smile curved his lips.

"I do agree with what you said," he murmured and rose from the couch, taking my good hand in his and helping me up. "That ex-boyfriend of yours...he really sounds like an immature idiot. And I'm very glad you left him. It means you respect yourself. Some women, and some men as well...it's sad to think how many stay in bad relationships. Maybe they're afraid to leave, or maybe they don't value their life and health. And then, there are people who stay, because bad relationships are all they know."

I nodded. "Some people don't have anyone to support them. That can have an impact on it as well. When I went back to get my things from the apartment where I lived with James, I had Rosalie and her boyfriend with me. Everything would've been so much harder had I been alone."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't have to go back there by yourself. Rosalie sounds like a good friend."

"She is."

Carlisle cupped my jaw tenderly, the pad of his thumb brushing my cheek, before skating across my mouth. My lips opened involuntarily at his touch, and his eyes darkened visibly, as the tip of my tongue darted out to touch his thumb. I kind of wanted to roll my eyes at myself, then, wondering what had happened to my inhibitions. They seemed to disappear every time he looked at me like that.

I moved closer to him, taking his hand from my face and squeezing it. "You know..." I began slowly, pressing my body closer to his, "This is the second time today you've mentioned Rosalie. Are you sure you don't have a thing for her?"

He chuckled softly. "Well," he whispered, leaning his face closer to mine. "Since she's taken, like you said, I guess I'm just going to have to accept the situation. Fortunately, I noticed Rosalie has this extremely beautiful brunette friend. And you know what? I might have a teeny, tiny thing for her." He nuzzled my nose with his, and his hands took my hips. He pulled me closer, and then, he caught my lips with his own. As he slowly explored my mouth, his tongue swept across my lips, asking for entrance. I gladly obliged.

Carlisle's kisses...they were nothing I had ever experienced. He was always both gentle and demanding, tender and urgent. It was passion, and some sweet, unspoken emotion combined. He always held me like I was something fragile and easily breakable, but at the same time, there was despair in his every touch, like he was afraid I might suddenly disappear if he let me go. I wanted to let him know I wouldn't disappear. That I was helplessly under his spell. I blamed his eyes. His deep, cornflower blue eyes...

His mouth released mine and traveled down my jaw. He scraped his teeth lightly across the pulse in my neck, and I shuddered and drew in a sharp breath, putting my hands on his shoulders to support myself, as he continued to assault my neck with his mouth. A delicious warmth began to pool in the pit of my stomach, making my heart race and my head spin.

Suddenly, the floor disappeared from under me; Carlisle swept me into his arms like I weighed nothing. His lips returned to mine, and I knew he was moving, even though I couldn't see anything; I'd closed my eyes. I felt the movements of his body, as he carried me out of the room, and I heard how he worked doors open with his elbow, never releasing his hold on me.

"I thought," I murmured against his lips, my voice ridiculously breathless, "you were going to give me a tour of the house."

"I am," he answered, his voice husky and deep. "I'll start with the bedroom. Is that alright?" Almost immediately, I felt him place me on something soft. His lips went back to my neck, and I mumbled something unintelligible to respond to his query, unable to remember what he had even asked. His fingers were unfastening my jeans, and his lips left my skin as he pulled back and stood up, yanking my shoes off impatiently. Then, his hands were on the waistband of my jeans again, and in one quick motion, he pulled them off. My underwear followed suit.

I heard the slide of his shoes as he took them off. I raised my head from the bed, practically heaving for air, as I watched him unbuckle his belt before slowly unfastening the front of his slacks. He pulled them off and kicked them aside, his eyes never leaving mine. I sat up on the bed, my mouth going dry as he returned to me, his warm hands wrapping around my ankles. He rolled off my socks one by one, and somehow, he managed to make even that look sexy. How the hell was that possible? They were just socks, for God's sake.

As he leaned closer to kiss me, my fingers found the knot of his tie. There was a quiet hiss of silk as I loosened it. Breaking away from his lips, I pulled the tie over his head, and then his hands were everywhere, tugging at my T-shirt and pulling it off me. My hands weren't idle, either. I made quick work of the buttons of his shirt, and I pushed it off him, pressing a few hasty kisses on his broad, muscular chest, and then, my fingers found the waistband of his underwear. Before tugging them off, I slid my hand down the front, watching him. His eyes slipped shut, and his mouth fell slightly open, his hips giving a small, involuntary thrust.

"Bella..." he hissed, covering my hand with his, as I continued to stroke him. I tilted my head up to kiss him, stopping my caresses to hook my fingers into the waistband of his boxers. I pushed them down, feeling his hardness spring free.

Placing my hand on his chest, I broke away from his mouth and urged him to lie down. He complied, his eyes never leaving mine; there was only desire and need in their blue depths. I slid his boxers down his legs and threw them on the floor, and I stopped for a moment, then, drinking in the toned and muscular appearance of his bare body. I caught Carlisle's gaze; he was watching me intently. I wondered if he liked it that my eyes were feasting on his body. His breathing was labored and heavy, as if he was struggling to control it. As I reached behind me to unclasp my bra, letting it slowly fall away, he closed his eyes for a moment and groaned quietly. Soon enough, though, he was watching me again.

I, however, was done watching.

I crawled over him, placing a soft, sweet kiss on his lips. Then, I kissed my way down his neck to his chest, enjoying the way he groaned and shuddered, as my lips trailed down his stomach, then lower still. I ran my fingers through the light trail of hair that crept down from his navel, and he moaned again, as my hand continued its search, grasping his throbbing arousal. I sat on my heels, giving him a glance and noticing he was still watching me. As I leaned down, I saw him lock his jaw and grit his teeth together, his eyes slamming shut, as I gave his weeping erection a tentative lick, and I moaned as I felt its rigid, unyielding heat against my tongue.

"Oh, my-" The load groan erupting from Carlisle's throat cut the sentence. Grasping him firmly with one hand, I lowered my mouth on his length and licked around the tip lightly. "Bella! Oh my...God, that feels incredible..."

I hummed around him, swirling my tongue over the head. He groaned again, before letting out a string of incomprehensible grunts. I felt his fingers twining in my hair, and I increased the pressure of my mouth, slowly rolling my tongue around his tip again. I felt the muscles of his stomach and thighs begin to tense and quiver, and his fingers in my hair tightened, not hard enough to hurt me, but hard enough to catch my attention.

"Bella...Bella, please," Carlisle moaned, his hips giving a small, shaky thrust. "Bella, stop. You have to...stop. Now." The last word came out as strangled whimper. Smiling, I released my mouth from him and blew on his sensitive member. The sound that left him right then wasn't a moan or a grunt – it was more like a desperate cry.

Before I even knew it, he had pulled his hand from my hair and sat up. I felt him grab my shoulders and push me down on the bed, falling on top of me. His breath was hot against my face. A bead of sweat was rolling down his forehead, and I reached out to wipe it away.

"Bella," he breathed, his blue eyes darker than I'd ever seen them. "The things you do to me..." He shook his head, his other hand trailing down my body and palming my other hip. "I swear, you're going to give me a heart attack. Do you not remember I'm not a young man anymore?"

I wiggled against him, moaning loudly, as I felt his twitching member press against my thigh. "Well, I noticed you're not exactly a boy, if you know what I mean," I answered, pitching my voice low. He groaned and threw his head back.

"Bella, for goodness' sake..." His hand left my hip and traveled down my leg, bending my knee. Then, he slowly dragged his fingers up my inner thigh, until he reached my center, and I moaned quietly as he stroked my sensitive heat with his fingers, finding the bundle of nerves that was aching for his touch. I closed my eyes and moaned again, biting my lip and moving my hips to seek more friction.

"Look at me," he whispered.

My brain didn't want to cooperate, and it was a while before I managed to do what he asked. My hands were fisted around the comforter beneath me, and my back arched involuntarily, as Carlisle dipped his fingers lower, slowly sliding them along my wet folds, before he continued to tease my sensitive nub.

"Carlisle! Oh...yes!" I thrashed my head from side to side, not knowing how to deal with the intense pleasure coursing through me. He stilled my movements by capturing my lips, his hand continuing to stroke me.

I tried to pull air into my aching lungs, dizzy from the sensations coursing through me. Heat began to coil in my core, as he kept caressing my sensitive flesh, and just when it began to feel like the pleasure was too much, like my control was about to snap at any moment, his touch withdrew, leaving me heaving and wanting and feeling like everything around me was just rocking and swaying. And as I met Carlisle's intense gaze, I suddenly had a feeling like nothing would feel steady to me after this.

He placed one more urgent kiss on my lips, before gently grasping my hips and flipping me onto my stomach. That alone made my head reel, but not because of the sudden change of position. An involuntary moan rippled from my throat, as Carlisle grabbed my hips and pulled me onto my knees. He reached around me to fondle my breasts, as his other hand dipped lower to caress the sensitive bud of flesh at the apex of my thighs. He drew me against him, spreading my legs wide with his knees, at the same time as he pushed himself inside me.

"Carlisle!" I no longer remembered how to form words. His name was the only thing my mouth was able to form. He set up a slow but firm rhythm, his fingers working magic with the bundle of nerves between my legs, and I buried my face into comforter and fisted my hands around the soft fabric, trying to muffle my screams, as he kept driving into me, the sound of his heavy breathing and quiet grunts filling my ears.

Suddenly, he pulled me up against his chest, his steady pace never wavering. His breath was hot against my skin, as he kissed the side of my neck. "I want to hear you, Bella," he murmured, his voice urgent and pitched low. "I want to hear you scream my name when you come."

I began to see rainbows. Was that normal? Was my brain going to fry? If so, hearing Carlisle talking dirty to me was certainly worth it.

He began to thrust his hips more firmly, making me cry out loudly. I reached behind me to grasp his waist, feeling like I needed something to hold me steady.

"Oh, yes...Carlisle!"

"What do you want, Bella?" he whispered. His fingers circled my sensitive nub again, and then, he changed the pressure of his touch, making heat pool in my lower belly and shoot through my every vein. "Is this want you want, sweetheart? Do you want me to touch you like this?"

"Yes! Yes, Carlisle...so…so close..." I managed to pant.

His response was to thrust even harder. As he rocked against me, I suddenly felt his teeth press against my shoulder, like he was holding back a loud cry. It was so arousing that, the tension in the pit of my stomach increased. And suddenly, that sensation was too intense, and then my pleasure was hitting its peak, like a dam had suddenly broken. I could only moan Carlisle's name and tremble in his arms, as he held me against him, his hips still moving at an urgent pace, as I came undone around him. Wave after wave of spasms shook me, and I was vaguely aware of the rapid rise and fall of Carlisle's chest against my back, as his moans grew louder, and he thrust into me once, twice more, before my name tumbled from his lips in a hoarse cry. His guttural moans filled my ears, as I felt him twitch and release inside me, filling me with warmth.

As the waves of heat and pleasure kept ripping through me, I began to feel boneless and weak, and I was just a heap of tingling, trembling flesh, as Carlisle shifted, pulling out of me and gently laying me down on the bed. His hand kept caressing my tender flesh, as I slowly came down from my high. When I felt like I might actually begin to see and hear normally again, I realized Carlisle's head was resting on my chest, his rapid breaths brushing against my bare skin.

I reached out to caress his slightly moist hair, and he stirred, his gentle touch withdrawing from my body. He shifted again to wrap his arms around me, pulling me close and sliding his body along mine. I closed my eyes, and for a while, we just lay there, slick skin against slick skin, our chests heaving, as we tried to catch our breath. After a while, I opened my eyes, as Carlisle placed a soft kiss on my lips, his hand coming to cup my face. I found it hard to read the look in his eyes. It was tender, but I realized it was also almost apologetic.

"What is it?" I asked in a soft whisper.

He shook his head and gave me a small smile. "Nothing. It's just that...well, it was my intention to be gentler with you. I didn't mean to be so...rough."

His hair had fallen over his forehead, and I reached out to brush the wet locks back. "I like gentle," I murmured, leaning in to kiss him, "But I don't mind rough, either. To be honest, Carlisle, that was..." I shook my head, at a loss of words.

"Mediocre?" he supplied with a teasing smile. "Alright? Tolerable?"

I laughed quietly. "I was going for words like 'incredible' and 'breathtaking.'" I grabbed his shoulder and pushed him onto his back, and then I rested myself on his chest, my fingers slowly tracing the line of his jaw.

"Well, I'm pleased to hear those are the words you'd use," he murmured with a smile.

"Feeling flattered, are you?"

He chuckled. "Perhaps."

I leaned closer to give him a brief kiss. "Well, you should. Because, you know..." I bit my lip, slightly self-conscious, "I've always had trouble with...well, you know..." I trailed off, feeling a blush creeping up my cheeks.

"Having an orgasm?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Really?"

I nodded, slightly embarrassed. "Yeah. It was rather rare when I'd have one, when I was with someone else. But when I'm with you..." I shook my head, smiling as his eyes flared, "Every time, Carlisle. Every damn time. What is it you know that the rest of the world doesn't?"

He chuckled. "I assume you mean your exes when you say, 'the rest of the world?'" He didn't wait for my answer. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me, and in one fluid movement, he rolled us over, so I was pinned beneath him. He hovered over me, his nose nuzzling mine, before he dropped sweet, slow kiss on my lips. "Have you considered," he pressed another kiss on my mouth, "that perhaps you've only been with young, adolescent boys?" His next kiss was deeper, more passionate. "And have you perhaps noticed I'm not one?"

I groaned quietly as his other hand roamed down my body, caressing the curve of my waist. "Wow. Aren't you cocky?"

He laughed softly, his lips nibbling the side of my mouth. "Blame yourself. You brought this up."

"True." The word came out as a moan, as his hand left my waist and began to cup the sensitive flesh at the juncture of my thighs, his fingers sliding along my folds, gently teasing me. My breathing began to quicken, but then, his touch was suddenly gone, making me want to growl in frustration. Carlisle placed another tender kiss on my lips, before he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me up with him. He shifted himself off the bed, slipping his other arm under my knees, as he picked me up.

"What are you up to now?" I asked, still slightly breathless.

Carlisle smiled. "I'm continuing the tour of the house. Now that you've seen the bedroom, I thought I'd show you the bathroom next."

"Oh." I pretended to ponder. "But what if I don't need to see the bathroom?"

"It has a tub."

I bit my lip. "Hmm. Is it bigger than mine?"

"Possibly."

I sighed in mock heaviness. "Well, alright. I guess you could show me the bathroom, then."

"Excellent."

I giggled as he began to carry me out of the room, and I threw a quick glance around me, before he stepped into the hallway; I realized I hadn't really seen his bedroom. My attention had been entirely on Carlisle for these past moments. I caught a glimpse of ivory white walls, with two large paintings on them, and behind his huge bed was a large window with blue curtains that matched the cover of the bed. It was a beautiful room. Carlisle noticed I was looking around me, and he stopped.

"Would you rather end the tour here?" he asked, a teasing glimmer in his eyes.

"Nope. I'm ready to see the bathroom. And the tub you promised."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Another giggle escaped me. He adjusted me in his arms and carried me out of the room. I thought to myself that, if this was his idea of giving me a tour of the house, I wouldn't mind if he showed me the rest of the rooms as well.