The Kiss

by LFairchild98

Bella Swan: Lit student, in her third year at NYU, meets Edward Mason: tattooed bartender and musician. After an explosive first meeting, Bella thinks that her passionate kiss with a stranger will be nothing but a memory. But, Edward has a completely different idea. With his sights set on Bella; will our sensible good girl,be able to fight off the advances of our handsome bad boy?

4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer- all these obscenely good-looking characters belong to the one and only Stephanie Meyer!

Hello my wonderful readers! I know- cue the shocked gasps, I have written another chapter! I had my fresher's week last week, and it killed me, so please forgive me for the lateness of this chapter.

I found it really difficult writing this chapter, as I have been worried that it wouldn't live up to your expectations. While this may not be the date you expect, I wanted to give you a look into a different side of this Edward.

I've said this several times now, but I am genuinely so so sooooo surprised by the amount of love this story is getting. All your reviews encourage me to write, and it is your support, which is pushing this story ahead. Please review, and let me know what you think about this chapter – I REALLY HOPE YOU AREN'T DISAPPOINTED!

Warning, this isn't the sexiest chapter I have written so far, but I promise that if you review, there will be many sexy times ahead;)

So… here you guys go! When listening to this chapter I listened to Alicia Keys' New York, no word of a lie!

Lots of love xo

4.

BPOV

"Oh, trust me Isabella – tonight, I'm going to give you the ride of your life."

I gulp, my eyes growing wide. This man is going to be the actual death of me. He moves over the bike, grabbing two helmets. Taking advantage of the fact that his burning eyes are not focussed on me, I allow myself to lust over the gorgeous machine. It is then I realise what I am truly looking at.

Holy shit-balls.

"E-Edward?" My voice shakes as I walk up to the stunning vehicle, reverently touching the handlebars.

He looks up, concern marring his features as he hears the tone of my voice; "Bella?"

"Um… is t-this Harley a Fat Boy S?" I can barely get my words out staring at the black matte finish – no doubt custom made. I might as well give up the bet right this second, because I am already envisioning Edward bending me over the bike, hands on my hips, where he would thrust deep inside me…

His silence forces me to drag my eyes away from the motorcycle (and my mind away from my dirty fantasies), to meet his round ones. His jaw is nearly touching the floor and it doesn't even seem like he is breathing.

"Edward? Edwaaaaard? Hello?"

He coughs, shaking his head. He then not so subtly adjusts himself, making me flush with pleasure.

"You know about motorcycles?" His usually overly confident voice is suddenly extremely small. I raise an eyebrow at his sudden mood swing.

"Yes. When I was eighteen, I kinda, briefly went through an… adrenaline-junkie phase? I went cliff-diving, I got my first and only tattoo," I ignore his splutter "and I drove motorcycles. I almost gave my father a heart attack!" I think back to those short few months; probably the only time in which I truly broke out of my shell. It was exciting and liberating, but also extremely short lived. No one knew of this, not even Alice.

"You should have seen how relieved he was when I finished my little rebellion stage!" I laugh, remembering all the grey hairs and wrinkles poor Charlie gained in that time. Thinking about my father makes me feel suddenly nostalgic, but I swallow down the feeling.

"Anyway… the only thing that really stuck with me from that time, was my love of motorcycles. I went to a few conventions in Washington, where I grew up, and even self taught myself how to fix up this old scrap of metal I found the junkyard, since then I've never looked back."

I look back at the Fat Boy longingly; I am dying to feel its power between my legs, the wind flowing through my hair. It had been way to long since I had ridden a motorcycle. While I adore Big Red (my lovingly restored baby) back home, it really doesn't hold a candle to this beauty.

An idea suddenly strikes me, and an evil grin fills my face, "Edward, I think I know what I want if I win this bet," I look pointedly at the bike.

He looks confused for a moment, then realisation dawns upon him. "Seriously? You want to ride my bike? C'mon Bella, can't you think of anything else you want..." He subtly gestures to his dick jokingly, and while it is a tempting offer, nothing would deter me from grasping the opportunity to ride this beauty.

I jut my lip out, pouting "Please Edward?"

His eyes seem to glaze over, locking onto my lips. I can see that he is wavering. Jesus, who knew that it, would be so easy?

"Fine." He says in a low voice.

I do a small victory dance, forgetting for a moment that I am on a busy sidewalk in New York City.

Edward is very quiet, which surprises me since he seemed to have an opinion on everything. I wonder if I should slap him but he is just scanning my face intently.

Regaining his composure, he strides over to me, taking my face between both his hands and stroking his thumbs gently against my jaw-line. It is the most gentle, romantic gesture he has ever shown me and I don't know how to react it. Where was the cocky bastard I had met in the bar?

There must be a million questions in my eyes, but there are absolutely no answers in his. Finally, he lets go of my face, muttering under his breath something completely unintelligible. He then places a helmet on my head, securing it around my chin. He strokes my hair behind my shoulders softly, his eyes shining as he quietly observes me.

"You are full of surprises Isabella Swan" he comments.

I blush, which brings that familiar smirk to his face again. He turns away from me, putting on his helmet as he straddles the bike.

Okay – anyone who has thought they had ever witnessed perfection before had clearly never seen Edward Mason on a bike before. Seriously, the man was breathtaking; like something from a magazine. James Dean reincarnated.

He looks over to me, probably wondering why I wasn't behind him. I flush again, biting my lip. He grins at my dumbfounded expression, and wiggles his finger at me in a 'come hither' gesture. He looks smug… too smug for my liking. I square my shoulders; yes, there was a delightfully hot man on a drool-worthy motorcycle waiting for me, but goddamn it – I will win this bet!

I slide behind him, circling his waist. I can feel his warmth despite his thick coat and jumper. I press my breasts against his back, and tighten my legs causing him to groan and me to smile.

"You ready?" He says over his shoulder.

I press my lips against the shell of his ear, "never been more ready."

He shivers in response and kicks the bike to life. The vibrations beneath me bring that comforting and familiar feeling back to me. He swiftly gets out of his parking position, driving down the road.

The feeling is indescribable. It feels like I am flying. The cold air whips my face, and runs through my long hair. The New York lights flash around me, colourful and vibrant. I close my eyes, laughing carelessly at the wonderful energy that races through me as we speed through the city, weaving between yellow cabs. I can feel Edward's muscles clench underneath my fingertips, as I squeeze my thighs more securely around him.

"Where are we going?" I shout after a moment of pure ecstasy.

"It's a surprise!" He calls back, not taking his eyes off the road.

I lay the side of my face against his warm back, enjoying the feel of his body against mine. It makes me wonder what it would feel to have his skin against mine. My panties dampen at the thought alone.

I quickly divert my mind to where he could possibly be taking me. Edward Mason is an absolute mystery to me, and it is hard not to stereotype him, much as he did me the night we met

But what if he does end up taking me to a grimy bar, expecting sex in the alleyway afterward? While I am not opposed to rough wall sex, I am determined not to lose my cool as I did during our past encounters.

I am so lost in thinking about where we could possibly be going, that it doesn't even register that we have arrived at our destination.

I raise an eyebrow, recognising the small parking lot was the one directly next to Central Park. But we can't be going to Central Park. It is a September evening, which means…

FUCKING NO WAY. My jaw drops.

We are at the Breaking Dawn Musical Festival. The Breaking Dawn Festival has been an annual occurrence at Central Park for the last fifty years, and is one of the most prestigious classical music festivals in the world.

It also cost a bomb to even get a ticket to this place, hence why I had never been here in the three years I had been at NYU. I had of course dreamed of it, being a huge fan of classical music. But how did Edward know?

Edward had parked his bike, gotten off and removed his helmet within the time I had been wildly thinking, unable to believe what is happening. How can a bartender afford something like this? It just doesn't make sense! Tickets cost nearly four hundred dollars each, due to the mass amount of famous names that performed here. The only people who really came to these things were either crazily wealthy or famous or both!

"Bella?"

I snap my head over to Edward who stands almost nervously next to me, waiting for me to get off the bike. "Is this okay? If you don't like this we can go somewhere else…"

Okay, fuck this bet – a humble, beautiful Edward paired with the date of my dreams was sure to be my kryptonite!

"Edward," I gasp, unable to get the words out "this is way too extravagant, you did not have to do this! I was expecting a movie or dinner…"

He runs a hand through his hair, chuckling slightly "well, dinner is awaiting us, and don't worry about the money, I promise I didn't spend a penny. I know a guy."

"Uh – was that guy, God?" I ask incredulously "Jesus Edward, this is beyond my wildest dreams! Are you sure I'm even worth this?"

To think, this morning I had thought all he wanted was a fuck buddy; but obviously with all this effort, he saw this going far deeper. Suddenly my palms are sweating and I am terrified.

His cold hands once again find themselves on my burning face, brushing the apple of my cheeks, "Isabella," he whispers "like I said on the phone earlier… I want you. Do you feel the electricity that runs through our touch alone? What we could have… it could be fucking fireworks; so yes you are worth it."

He says it with such ferocity, his emerald eyes so intense, that it takes all my strength not to place my lips against his and return his passion in a much more physical way.

He steps away, running a hand through his hair again. I conclude that it must be one of his nervous gestures.

Then his persona switches to the confident and smug man that I am typically accustomed to- "Now, as much as I love the look of you on my bike," he purrs "I think it's time we get going."

I clear my throat, slipping off the bike and pushing off my helmet.

He takes my hand into his, entwining our fingers and leads me out of the lot, through the trees where Sheep Meadow lies.

"Aren't you worried about your motorcycle?" I ask concerned, glancing back at the vehicle like a mother leaving her baby for the first time.

He snickers, noticing the tone of my voice "Don't worry, I have arranged someone to pick it up, and put it in a more secure location."

I nod, turning to look at the scene before me.

I have been to Central Park dozens of times before, but this is beyond words. It has been totally transformed. Around the main public area, there are thousands upon thousands of strings of twinkling lights wrapped around the trunks of the trees, swinging from one branch to the other.

There is a massive stage set up towards the top of the Meadow, bathed in golden light. It looks even more spectacular against the velvety dark sky. A huge symphony orchestra sits there, arranging them-selves and tuning their instruments. Two large screens are set up either side of the stage, enabling the monumental crowd to have a close up image of the goings on stage.

Hundreds and hundreds of people occupy the space, sat on picnic blankets, abuzz with excitement.

Edward stops next to a red check picnic blanket, which is conveniently at a (albeit small) distance away from the clustered crowd, giving us a sense of privacy. I notice that there is a picnic basket placed here besides a bottle of champagne chilling in ice.

"Oh, Edward" I breathe. It is perfect. Who knew my cocky, lusty bartender could be so damned romantic?

He raises my hand, kissing my knuckles tenderly, "I know we aren't exactly up at the front, but it's still our first date and I want to talk to you as well."

My heart flutters at his sincerity, "I love it Edward. You really didn't have to go through so much trouble…"

He rolls his eyes, pulling me down onto the blanket, "Please Bella, we've been through this. Now," he opens up the basket and steam automatically floods out, along with a mouthwatering smell.

"What else could you possibly have under your sleeve?"

He produces a silver platter and opens it to reveal two delicious steak baguettes, along with fries. Who the hell brings steaks to a picnic?

"How the hell did you pull this off?" I ask, inhaling the scent.

"I had someone deliver it directly from the restaurant about five minutes before we arrived," he continues "They are from Aro's, so hopefully they will meet your satisfaction." He places cutlery in front of me.

For what feels like the millionth time this evening, my jaw drops. Aro's is an upcoming restaurant in New York and extremely hard to get into. The New York Times had given it exceptional reviews, and it is well on its way to becoming one of the leading restaurants in the city.

Then my previous question pops back in to my head, "Edward, how on earth could you afford this?"

He doesn't meet my eyes, choosing to pick at his fries.

"Connections."

I raise an inquisitive eyebrow, "What kind of connections?"

"Ca- my dad," The word seems almost foreign on his tongue "he and Aro were roommates in College. I called in a favor."

I ignore his little slip up, sensing that he is uncomfortable for some reason.

"Do you want some champagne?" he asks, quickly changing the subject.

I nod, and he pours the bubbly into two flute glasses.

"Thank you Edward, for all of this," I say meaningfully "no one has ever gone to such lengths for me, especially on a first date."

He places his champagne down, covering my small hand with his large one "I have never done this for another girl before Bella. Trust me when I say that you are very special."

I smile shyly, rising my glass in cheers.

We click our glasses together. The cold liquid runs down my throat, calming my nerves slightly.

"So…" I start, cutting my baguette into two. I can see the steak inside is a little pink – just how I like it.

Edward looks up, chewing, his mouth rises into a half smile, "yes beautiful?"

Christ... this man!

"You like classical music?"

He swallows, "yeah, I am actually classically trained."

My hand freezes midway to my mouth, in shock "No way."

"You sound surprised." He smirks.

"Well I knew you played guitar."

Now he looks surprised, "what gave you that impression Miss Swan?"

I place my food beside me, and get on to my knees, leaning over to him. I trace the guitar tattoo with my pinkie finger. It doesn't escape me that goose bumps follow my touch.

I follow the detailed design – running my finger up each individual string, the delicate music notes that swirl around it. I look up, to find myself nose to nose with him; his warm breathes against my cheeks. I close my eyes, enjoying the close proximity. No matter how I tried to deny it, this man had managed to squirm his way into my life.

"Bella, if you don't move back, I fear that I am going to forget about my promise to be a gentleman and fuck you right here and now, in front of all these innocent spectators."

My eyes snap to his, searching for any laughter or sign that he is joking. But he seems completely serious.

I exhale shakily, moving back to my seat, "um…" I start awkwardly, biting into my baguette.

Fuck, I am so close to groaning like some sex addict. I swallow down my moan.

"So, do you play any other instruments?"

He smiles gently, tucking into his own food "Piano, violin, guitar, bass, drums, and a bit of the cello."

I choke on my fry "Six instruments! Where on earth did you find the time to do that?"

He shrugs offhandedly, "I had an… expensive education."

Expensive? That doesn't really surprise me considering our current location, his mode of transportation and the food that nearly made me orgasm. But that does not explain…

"How come you're a bartender then?"

For a split second his whole body tenses, but it is so swift that I think I have imagined it.

"I enjoy it, I have always been a bit of a night person. Plus the tips are really good."

That probably had less to do with bartender skills, and more to do with his insane good looks. But I wasn't about to say that and make his ego grow five times bigger.

As I open my mouth to ask him another question, he interrupts me- "Nuh uh, Miss Swan. Let me have a turn!"

I snort, taking a sip from my champagne "there's nothing remotely interesting about me."

"I beg to differ. I mean, how many girls go cliff diving and motorcycle driving when inexperienced?" he teases, "You sound pretty adventurous to me Isabella."

"Well I'm not that person anymore Mason," I look down at my food "no adventure in my life."

He tips my chin back, bringing my gaze back to him, "That is what I'm here for Isabella Swan."

…

We spend the next half an hour (waiting for the performance), eating our food, and enjoying each other's company.

Despite the short amount of time chatting, he comes to know a lot more about me.

He knows that my parents had split up from a young age. They had had a shotgun marriage after Renee accidently became pregnant with me – it was quick, and more out of duty than anything else. I lived with my mother and her second husband Phil who was ten years her junior until I was seventeen, where I had finally got sick of the lovebirds both of which had continuously acted like they were honeymooning. I then moved from sunny Phoenix to rainy Forks to be with my father.

He knows that Charlie was and still is, a great father. While he isn't verbally very affectionate, his love is evident through every action he does for me. From buying me my first car, to the short but sweet text he sends me every week reminding me to carry around my pepper spray. Edward laughed at that.

He knows that I aspire to be a journalist – but not the type who writes about celebrity's love lives and goes searching for sex tapes. More like the type who travels the world, visiting wonderful places – the ivy covered walls of Verona to see the balcony of Juliet, or the pink sands of Barbados.

He knows my favorite book is Pride and Prejudice – Elizabeth Bennett was my inspiration growing up as I fought for my independence; which Edward admitted he very much admires.

In turn, I manage to find out a bit more to the enigma that is Edward Mason.

His best friend is a man called Emmett McCarty, who he met when he was a teenager, in a hole of a bar in Brooklyn. He is like the big brother he never had, and he confided to him about everything.

Edward confessed that he had gone to public school growing up, approved by his parents. He had absolutely hated school and used music as his creative outlet; hence the six instruments. Music practically saved him, as he was close to being expelled many times for rebellious behaviour.

Surprisingly, Edward isn't the womanizer I had previously pinned him to be. He has had two girlfriends in the past. One in high school called Angela, who he had dated on and off in Senior Year; the girl he lost his virginity to. They finally went their separate ways a few weeks before graduation, deciding they were better off as friends. His second girlfriend –if you could even call it that - was a girl called Bree who he had dated for two months in college. He dumped her when he found out she was using him to make her ex-boyfriend Diego jealous.

He had slept with a few women since Bree, but nothing serious.

Edward is very open when talking about this, but one thing that seemed to make him tense up is the topic of his family. He would quickly change the subject whenever a question about his parents arose, and with it being the first date, I decide that it is probably best not to push him.

Within the space of a few hours, I find a part of Edward that is totally unrecognizable to the overly confident, seductive man that kissed me in the club. While he is still both of these things, he is also extremely romantic and never does things halfheartedly. He is very caring; he listened to everything I said intently, and asks questions suggesting he is genuinely interested in getting to know me and not just my body. He is also very loyal, clear through the respective tone he held when talking about Emmett.

Something, which I already knew before this date, but was made even more apparent, is his absolute sexiness. Every thing about this man is sexy. The way he randomly grabs my hand when I am talking, tracing the lines of my palms. The way he keeps his intense eyes on mine when divulging into a childhood memory. The way he licks his lips whenever I bit mine.

He is glorious.

Our conversation comes to a stop, when the crowd breaks into applause as John Williams is brought onto the stage. THE JOHN WILLIAMS.

I gasp, turning my body to the stage leaving my back to Edward, watching the composer bow to the crowd. I then feel Edward's large hands on my hips, pulling me in between his legs, with my back against his chest.

As the orchestra bursts into Hedwig's theme song, one of John William's best known tracks, I find myself more distracted by Edward's arms wrapped around my waist, his breath against my hair, his erection pushing into my back.

Christ it feels so wrong to feel his hard on when listening to a piece associated so closely to my childhood. But man, does it feel good.

He turns his head nuzzling my jaw, inhaling deeply.

"You smell so good" he whispers into my ear.

I shudder as his lips press into the shell of my ear, distinctly reminding me of the way he whispered sweet nothings to me at the club.

I wiggle my hips a little, teasing him and making him growl playfully.

I giggle, shushing him.

"Calm yourself Mr. Mason, you are in a public place."

He moans "then stop rubbing your sweet ass over me! I wasn't lying when I said that I'd fuck you right here."

My eyelids flutter, "you put me into this position."

"And what a sweet position it is" he purrs.

"Shut up and listen to the genius."

We both go quiet after that.

…

It is the best date I had ever experienced.

Which isn't saying much, really. I mean, my previous dates typically consisted of a generic chat at a restaurant, or one-sided attempted grope at the movie theatre.

The musical festival was fantastic. There were iconic tunes from Jaws to Star Wars, Pirates and the Caribbean to Dark Knight. Plus there were the more classic pieces like Clare de Lune and Moonlight Sonata. There were so many other famous composers other than John Williams there, and it was honor to witness them live and in action.

And to share it all with this handsome man is an added bonus. We have so much in common besides our love for motorcycles. We both have similar eclectic tastes in music, and films. We enjoyed similar books. And although we couldn't agree on who was better – he says Rolling Stones, I say Beatles, the chemistry we have is undeniable.

Now I find myself once again, pressed against his back. I play with his zipper as he zooms through the city, wishing that the night wouldn't end. I also debate on whether or not I should kiss him.

There have been several times in the night where I almost put my lips on his, desperate to taste him. But I am determined in my case. Plus it had been fun to see the frustration in his face, as his eyes flickered to my lips through the course of the night.

"Fancy taking a detour!" He shouts over the loud wind.

I put my chin on his shoulder, grinning "sure!"

Rather than taking the short route to my apartment, he takes the longer road, going past Broadway. Flashing signs pass by- Lion King, Aladdin, Chicago. Manhattan is in its usual state – abysmally busy and high on energy, despite the late hour.

We must have past all the tourist spots, but it doesn't take long enough. Before I know it, he is walking me to my apartment door, my hand comfortably in his.

I turn, resting against the blue door, whilst he places his right hand high above my head, leaning over me with a soft smile on his face. I can smell him- all Edward.

"I had an amazing time." He whispers, despite the emptiness of the corridor.

I give him a toothy grin, probably looking like an idiot, "so did I."

I trail both hands over his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He brings me into a sweet embrace, bending down to tuck his face into the crook of my neck, "I don't want to go."

"Don't expect me to beg you to stay." I tease, reminding him of his bet earlier that night.

He gives me a big smile, "you are a tough woman to please, Miss Swan."

"Hmm…"

I rub my cheek against his, loving the feel of his light stubble against my smooth skin.

We stand there for a few minutes, taken in by this innocent, sweet touch. It is a far cry from our past encounters, but it doesn't bother me in the slightest.

"I better go Alice is probably dying for details." I say, grudgingly pulling away from him.

His arms tighten, a groan rumbling in his chest "Nooo, don't leave…"

I giggle, "I have to."

"Or you could just invite me in?" He winks jokingly.

I push him away playfully, "Goodnight Mason."

Before I turn, I lean into him, near enough for our lips to brush against each other, but not close enough for it to count as a kiss, "and I win… I expect you to bring me your motorcycle for a test drive very soon."

I pull sharply away, smiling evilly at the stunned look on his face and go to open the door.

As I inch the door open however, he grabs my upper arm gently yet forcefully, bringing me to him.

He then pulls me in for a passionate kiss.

It is so like the previous ones but so different. Like the first and second, it is absolutely electric. Every nerve on my body is on fire, and I can feel my toes curl in my boots as I fist his hair, running my fingers through his soft locks.

But while the other kisses were primarily driven by lust, this is led by deeper feelings. Blossoming feelings. It consumes me. His right hand cradles the back of my neck, whilst his left wraps around my waist.

He moans against my mouth when my tongue finally meets his in a familiar dance. The way they twine together like long lost puzzle pieces, trailing over the other, is fabulous.

After minutes of this, we both slowly pull from each other, chests heaving furiously and eyes locked.

"Thank you for the most incredible night Edward." I breathe.

He looks at me with strong feeling, "so, you want to go out with me again."

"O-of course," I say, slightly shocked. I thought it was a given. Of course I wanted to see him again!

He presses his lips against mine one last time, "Good night Bella."

He then turns, walking towards the elevator.

I watch him get in, smiling when he waves as the doors shut.

Wow. What a night.

I slowly walk into my apartment, pressing my fingertips against my swollen lips.

All the lights are off, but I see the flickering light of the TV from the living room.

I tiptoe in, wondering if Alice had fallen to sleep, only to find her blubbering away watching the finale of The Vampire Diaries.

I can't help but laugh at the distraught look on her face.

"I still can't get over it." Alice sniffs, pointing over to the screen where Stefan and Lexi are reunited.

I plop down on the sofa next to her, taking a handful of popcorn from her bowl, "yeah… I always preferred him to Damon."

She nods empathetically, "Stelena all the way. Why do you think the first three seasons were the best ones?"

We sit in a companionable silence, gazing at the television.

"Bella?"

"Yeah Ali?"

"Is that sex hair, or helmet hair? And please say it hasn't looked like that all night!"

And here comes the second Spanish Inquisition everyone.