Awww, neurosis.
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Thanks to:
Di, my editor,
and Paige and Aileen, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game
Chapter 22

It was dark when I woke to find moonlight streaming across the bedsheet covering our bodies. My cheek was wet and pressed against Edward's chest, my breasts flattened against his side. Moving slowly, I lifted my head, and his arm slid from my shoulder to the bed behind me. He looked beautiful under the moon's rays; the silver light picked out his ridiculously long eyelashes and highlighted the lower pucker of his lip, just begging to be kissed.

Sighing, I leaned forward to press my lips softly against his. Under my touch, he moved slightly, then with his own sigh, rolled over onto his side, leaving me facing his back. Nonplussed at first, I then realized he wasn't used to having someone else in his bed.

I couldn't help smiling as I scooted close, my pelvis against his hard ass, my breasts against his back. Propping myself up on my elbow, I stretched my free arm across him and pressed my hand against his stomach. Spreading my fingers, I lowered my palm against his hard, smooth warmth, following the hair of his happy trail down, down, down, until I reached the heavy softness of his cock. I cupped him, lightly squeezing until he began to lengthen and harden. With another sigh, he bucked into my grasp, but he was still asleep—hopefully dreaming sweet dreams.

When he was hard enough, I brought my hand up to my mouth and spat into it, licking myself liberally, then returned it to his cock. I slid my palm up and down the steel heat of him, grasping him at the tip and turning my hand a bit. With a gasp, he jerked awake, his head turning to shoot me a fiery look.

"Bella," he groaned, hardening further, thrusting into my palm.

I kissed the skin on his shoulder, then nipped at him as I continued grasping his cock in my slippery hand. I didn't even have to move; he was moving for both of us, thrusting in and out of my hold. His hand came up to cup around mine, and then he was moaning under both our grips. I was so turned on that I throbbed, moaning with him as the tip of him began to flare and swell.

"Jesus," he gasped, then moved our hands to the base of his cock, pausing and squeezing. "That could have been embarrassing. No, I want to come inside you."

Without warning, he turned over, forcing me with a squeal onto my back. Grinning wickedly, he pressed a hard, wet kiss to my lips. Then, grasping my shoulder and one of my legs, he flipped me over to my side. He scooted in close behind me, knees bending behind mine, his cock against my lower back. Pressing a hand against me, he moved me forward as he tugged me backward by the hips. I felt him hot and heavy between the crack of my ass, and then he moved himself back and forth against me there.

His mouth was against my ear. "Are you sore?"

I moaned and shook my head, and he lifted my thigh over his, leaving me open to him. Shivers raced up my spine. Feeling him nudging my slick entrance, I tilted my pelvis invitingly. He answered by thrusting deep inside with a low groan, his fingers grasping my hip hard.

"Fuck," I cried out and grasped the pillow nearest me. "Oh, fuck."

He groaned again, sliding his lower arm beneath me, his hand curling up to anchor me by the shoulder. The hand at my waist moved around to my clit as he began bucking and circling into me, but I could tell most of his attention was focused on me. His fingers made a fork around himself where he entered me, then, slippery and sliding, he used his thumb against my clit. Although he was still gyrating behind me, he allowed me to set the pace, allowed me free movement to chase my release. It was as if he knew my body, knew what it wanted; he was so good at giving it to me, and I took it greedily. Like him, I was already on the edge of climax, and the barest touch sent me flying over it.

Barely had the cries left my throat before he took over, his movements jerky and erratic. I could feel him swelling just before he cried out gutturally, his fingers grasping my hip and holding me to him as he released inside of me.

Afterward, he ran a hand across my ass gently, then gave me a little spank.

"You little," he breathed, and bent his head to kiss me.

"I'm so horny," I said between his kisses. "You stopped me from my one-night stand, remember?"

He growled darkly, then glared down at me. "You didn't know what you were doing."

"Yes, I did," I told him. "I knew exactly what I wanted . . . what I needed. I think it was all the frustration of being around you that made me feel that way, though. Now, I don't think . . . anyone but you could have satisfied the itch."

Flashing me a wolfish grin, he cupped me firmly down there as he pulled me tighter against his body. "Damn right. Nobody but me."

Then we're kissing deeply again, our tongues taking turns at dominating the other's. Not content or really comfortable enough to keep kissing him from over my shoulder, I rolled over onto my back. Aiming one of those intensely fierce looks at me, he settled in close, his hand coming up to frame the side of my face as he pressed his mouth against mine.

"Nobody but you," I sighed against his lips, and felt the truth of it bone-deep. I ran the tip of my thumb across his eyebrow, my heart full of adoration for him. He'd somehow worked his way into my thoughts, into my blood, and was now prying at my heart.

Teasing me with the tip of his nose, he moved to my cheek, then ran it down the side of my neck. I shivered and clutched at his shoulders.

"Are you hungry?" he asked against the underside of my chin.

I couldn't help giggling at the unexpected question. "I could eat something."

Quirking a half smile at me, he climbed to his knees and pulled me up by the arm. Then, sliding off the bed, he tugged me after him, right into his arms. For long moments, he just held me against his naked chest, his fingers stroking through my hair.

"I'm glad you're here," he murmured. "I almost still can't believe it."

"So am I," I answered, pressing a kiss to his chest over his heart. "It's odd the way things turn out sometimes, isn't it? You. Me. Six months ago, never in a million years would I have thought this is where I'd be today."

"Yet here you are," he said, bringing his lips to my hairline, leaving little kisses there in between the words he spoke. "In my arms. All mine."

Warm and giddy, I sighed and basked under his attention.

He released me, then walked to a chest of drawers, where he pulled out a sweatsuit. Handing me the top to put on, he tugged on the bottoms. I ran to the bathroom with the shirt and cleaned up, then met him in the kitchen.

We celebrated our second midnight together with turkey sandwiches and Gatorade poured into wine glasses. Even as I sipped at my drink, I couldn't keep my eyes off him. But the look he was aiming my way was devilishly sexy; he wanted me looking at him. Bare from the waist up, and with that look on his face, he was sex incarnate. I didn't even need to wear pants to keep warm; he made me so hot.

Afterward, he pulled me to sit beside him on his piano seat, and he played for me: "Clair de Lune", "Morning Mood", and something else that had me teary-eyed and leaning against his side.

When he carried me to bed, we made love all over again—slow and deep—and I knew I was losing myself in him. To him.

. . . . .

"Stay with me tonight," Edward said Sunday afternoon as we lounged on his couch watching movies on Netflix. "Again."

Considering it, I bit my lip. My God, oh how I wanted to, but . . .

"Shouldn't we . . . desensitize ourselves a little?" I wondered. "We have to go to work tomorrow." The words came out slower as I went, because I was starting to worry a little. "I can't be sitting at my desk smelling like you. And you can't look at me that way, either."

He brought the hand he was holding to his lips for a kiss. Then, he began running his thumb over my wrist soothingly.

"I won't put you in a compromising position, Bella. I heard you when you warned me about being too friendly," he said, his tone as low and serious as mine had been. "I know what's at stake here, and I'll behave."

Could we, though? Could we really? If we messed up, it wasn't going to be intentional.

"I'm afraid I might not be able to," I confessed with a catch in my voice. "How can I possibly look at you with a straight face across the conference table now?"

"Compartmentalization," he said. "We both need to keep our involvement, our emotions, separate from our working relationship."

"Compartmentalization," I repeated with numb lips. "Yeah. I don't think I'll be any good at that."

At my tone, his fingers grasped my hand tightly.

"We can do it, because we have to do it. It'll be similar to . . . swallowing the pain of a lost loved one," he told me. "You lost your mom and I lost Anthony. It's always there with us, but we don't continually wear the emotions of pain and loss on our sleeve. We endure. We get on with it and do what we need to do."

Enduring. Yes. That's exactly how it would feel.

He pulled me into his arms, and I sank against him limply. My body was already feeling the ghost pain of separation and the awkwardness of having to hide it, already feeling the fear of making a mistake. And that was only after one night. Fuck.

"This is going to suck," I said.

"Yes, but at least we're together now. We don't have to worry about feelings of anger or hate anymore. And, we only have to suck it up during the day," he said lightly. "You have my support, just as I'm sure I have yours. We can do this, Bella."

Although I was doubtful of my ability to do so, I nodded my head against his chest, inhaling his scent, as if it were a drug I'd soon feel the loss of intensely. As if I were a baby needing consolation, he caressed the back of my head, then ran his fingers down my back.

"Okay. Okay. I can do this," I said, and sat up, trying to convince myself. "I like my job. I don't want to lose my job. Or the respect of my coworkers."

He considered me with a look of trepidation, and my heart squeezed.

"What?"

"We need to think about telling Stuart and Colin," he said, his tone low and cautious. But it didn't matter; the meaning behind the words still made me lightheaded.

"Even though you and I are going to be careful to conceal our relationship while we're at work, someone could easily see us when we're off of work," he continued in the same gentle voice. "And it will go badly for us if someone else reveals us first."

My heart began pounding. "Badly . . . how?"

"Colin would feel as if I betrayed his confidence and trust. After all, he already knows about our high school relationship. That's noteworthy already. But Stuart? He'd be furious, thinking we were trying to hide something. And he'd be right."

His hands came up to frame my cold, numb face. "This isn't something we can legally hide from them. We are required to divulge our relationship to the company."

"But . . . but there's nothing to tell yet," I whispered. "We just . . . started. I hardly know what I'm feeling, and I sure as hell don't want to try to explain it to anyone."

The air I was dragging in was cold. I was panicking, and hating it, hating myself, too, because I should have anticipated this next step. It wasn't as if we hadn't already discussed it, but contemplating the situation was entirely different from actually being in it.

"Baby, we don't need to explain our emotions," he told me, his thumbs stroking my cheeks soothingly. "Just divulge that we're in a romantic relationship. Remember Stuart and Olivia? They did just fine while at work. So will we."

His calm patience was both infuriating and comforting.

"Yes, but Stuart is one of the company's owners. Of course, he wasn't going to be let go. You and I are different. Expendable. Well, I am, anyway. I mean, what if we don't make it? What if, say, a few weeks from now, we're back to feeling as if we're strangers and wishing we hadn't gotten involved? Then, confessing to a relationship will have been for nothing."

He cocked his head at me, and my heart stung at the look of hurt in his eyes. "Do you really think you could let me go? After all we've gone through together? Aren't you in this with me, Bella?"

Fuck.

"No. I mean, yes! I'm just . . . I'm just . . ."

Knocking his hands away from me, I brought my own up to cover my face.

"I don't feel as if I could let you go," I whispered. "But the thought of everyone's judgment, their secretive glances, and what they might say about us, is kind of terrifying me. And I'll be judged harsher than you will. I can hear it now: Oh, she's sleeping her way up the totem pole. It's embarrassing, the thought of everyone knowing about us. And so . . . so damned unprofessional."

His fingers were warm around my wrists and gentle as they tugged my hands down. His gaze was both fierce and kind.

"We're obligated to declare our relationship to Colin and Stuart, not to our co-workers. Colin and Stuart will keep what we share in the strictest of confidence."

"But people will find out," I insisted. "They always do."

"Maybe. Regardless, no one thought Stuart and Olivia behaved unprofess—"

"Because it was Stuart," I interrupted again. "One of the company owners. I'm sure he got respect that we won't."

"Their behavior didn't allow for any disrespect," he continued firmly. "And there's no reason why we shouldn't be able to do the same. Bella, there's company precedent for this kind of relationship, which means divulging it isn't grounds for dismissal. And if Colin and Stuart can accept us—and they will—who cares what anyone else thinks? If you and I are happy together, who else matters?"

Damn, he was shooting unerring arrows at all of my protests. Speechless, I looked at him with tears in my eyes.

"Can you repeat what I've just said?" he requested, wiping a tear from my face. "So I know you understand?"

"I get it. No one else's opinion should matter to me, as long as the partners accept us, and as long as we're happy together," I whispered.

"You get it. But do you believe it?"

I considered his question.

If . . . when the partners accepted us, I'd probably collapse from relief. Edward had every confidence that they would. And if anyone else found out and made their disapproval known, I'd have Edward to lean on. I . . . I could deal with it since I'd have him.

"I do," I admitted. "I believe what we have is worth anything we might have to deal with. I promise, I do. But I just think you might . . . might be coming at this all a bit naively, that's all. I'm scared, okay? I know other people's opinions shouldn't matter."

"They absolutely don't."

"I just don't trust myself."

"You don't trust yourself how?"

I dragged in a ragged breath. "To not moon at you if I meet you in the kitchen. I'm afraid I'll forget myself during a meeting, like I did this week. Someone is going to catch me looking at you too long, too often."

With a hard sigh, he pulled me into his arms. My fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt and twisted. When he spoke, I felt the cadence of his words against the side of my face.

"The worrywart in you is overriding your common sense and making you doubt yourself. But as you said once, you're a consummate professional at work, and you're not going to screw this up. Both because you enjoy your job and me," he soothed. "Have a little faith in yourself, Bella."

I growled softly as my stiff body gradually relaxed at his words. They didn't totally erase my unease—nothing would until it was all said and done, and I had proof I could survive it all—but at least my panic was being held at bay. Then again, Edward was also very persuasive. He wanted this relationship with me, wanted it to work even while we shared the same workplace. So of course, he was going to be optimistic about our chances.

Which meant it came down to trusting him. Because if nothing else, this conversation was proving that I was in this relationship with both feet now. Would it be so terrible to believe that working with and being with Edward could be a success?

It was against my nature to think that way, but I had to try. For both of us. For my sanity.

"How would we do it? Tell them together?" I asked with a sigh.

He was caressing my back again. Still trying to soothe me.

"I'd ask them to meet us for dinner one night during the week. Maybe at Roanoke's, that's a nice place."

"Wouldn't they . . . know something was up?"

"Oh, I'm sure. But this kind of news is always easiest to break over a cocktail and a steak. It's how I told Colin about you before the interview."

I tried to imagine their conversation and couldn't.

"What did he say about that? About our past?"

"He said I might be a masochist, and that he hoped I knew what I was doing. He's since congratulated me, by the way. He's aware of your excellent performance."

I took a shaky breath. "I need some time to get used to the idea."

He tightened his hold around me. "Can we think about telling them, say, next Monday?"

I pulled back from him abruptly as a horde of butterflies invaded my stomach.

"Oh, baby, you look sick."

"I'll be okay," I said with a groan, then took a few deep breaths. "Fuck."

Pulling my hands away from his, I stood and walked over to one of the windows. Below, traffic moved steadily along the ribbons of the freeway. Wrapping my arms around myself, I studied a yacht that was sitting in the harbor, trying to imagine Colin Smith and Stuart Devaney across a dinner table from me.

Would they really accept our relationship?

Edward came to stand behind me. He laid his hands on my shoulders, giving them a massage. "We're going to handle this like the adults we are. If we believe we can do this, we can."

"Everything's still so new," I said. "Why can't we have time to get used to how we are now? Is that so unreasonable?"

"I'm not comfortable waiting, Bella. We should share our relationship status sooner rather than later. I can give you a week. But as a VP, I have an HR responsibility. "

I snorted softly. "Wow. A whole week to obsess over what could possibly go wrong."

His hands moved down to my tight shoulder blades, where he dug his thumbs into the muscles. As he spoke, he leaned his head down, pressing his whiskered cheek against mine.

"Or, a whole week to prove to ourselves that we can behave professionally at the office. A week to solidify our position and how we feel. We want to be ahead of this and in control."

"I don't feel in control," I admitted.

He shook me back and forth. "I'm giving you what you want: time. The longer we wait, the more possibility there is for something to go wrong."

"Yeah," I said dryly. "And then there's that."

His hands moved to my waist and he pulled me back into his chest, hugging me. We stood like that for a few minutes until he spoke again, soft and yet certain.

"Like you said: we're worth it. We can do this. Please believe that."

My heart panged, and I squeezed my eyes closed.

"I do believe that. My worries have nothing to do with how I feel about you, Edward."

"Don't they? Because a while ago, you were afraid that we might not make it and that we'd be announcing our relationship for nothing."

I stiffened. "We've been together only a day. We've only fucked twice."

As soon as the thoughtless words spilled from my mouth, I choked on them and tears sprang to my eyes.

He pulled away from me, and, my mouth gaping, I spun to face him. His arms hung straight at his sides, and his mouth was turned down at the corners. A lancing pain shot through my chest as I saw the hurt in his darkened eyes.

"I'm trying not to take that personally, because I know it's just your fear talking," he said woodenly. "I can also see you regret it. But we've been together since the night you told me you forgave me. Haven't you felt that?"

"I'm sorry," I cried, moving close enough to wrap my arms hard around his waist. "I'm so sorry. You're right. It's just that I feel like you're sweeping my worries under the rug. I'm not ready to share what we are to anyone yet. Why can't you understand that?"

His arms wrapped around my shoulders, and I relaxed against him with relief. Damn my hotheaded temper.

"What do you want to do then?"

"Can we wait a few more weeks? Until we're both comfortable with . . . this new you and me? So I have the confidence of who we are behind me?"

He sighed softly against the top of my head as he began to rock me back and forth. "It's not a good idea, Bella. We'd be flouting company policy, and I absolutely cannot do that."

I squeezed my eyes shut as my heart thudded in disappointment. He was going to give us a week, and that was it. I didn't like it, but he'd explained his reasons. And since I was in this relationship, too, I had to accept them.

"But I'm sorry, also," he continued. "I'm ready to make this official, but I forget that I'm a few steps ahead of you."

I squeezed my arms around his waist. He was so good at cushioning the blow, at trying to protect me.

"I'm not that far behind you," I breathed against his chest. Lifting my head, I gazed up at him apologetically. "Can you kiss me now?"

With a slight smile, he bent his head to mine, pressing his lips softly there. Standing on my tiptoes, I tried to deepen the kiss, and he accommodated me. Pretty soon, I was gasping at the way his mouth and tongue were making love to mine; it was obvious he was trying to make a point.

"I know it wasn't fucking," I said, and panted as his mouth moved down my neck. "I know."

"You don't know," he growled. "Not yet, anyway, because I haven't fucked you yet. Maybe I should rectify that now, hmm?"

My insides leaped and caught fire. "Yes. Please," I moaned.

So he did; he yanked my panties down and off, then took me hard while I bent over the sofa. It was quick, and almost violent, and he could have just taken from me—I would have let him. But in the end, he was unable to do it without making me orgasm first.

"You're such a good guy," I panted afterward. "I really like that."

I more than liked it, actually. Patient, caring, slow to anger, he somehow knew how to save me from myself. He seemed to understand me like no one else ever had.

"Yeah? Well, don't forget it," he replied. "I don't want to have to give you another example of my fucking prowess."

"Oh, come on, Edward." I laughed. "I also really like your fucking prowess."

We spent the rest of the day on his sofa, and despite his wishes, I left shortly after nine.

Because I wanted to stay with him too much.

Because I was afraid of needing him too much.

Because in the end, even though it was a huge waste of time and effort, I was a damned worrywart.

Monday loomed threateningly.

A/N: I have a Group on Facebook called Powered by 23 Kicks Fanfiction where I've been sharing teasers and the occasional EPOV. Come join us!