Chapter 20 – Touch

BPOV

I held the paper in my shaking hands, my heart crashing against my ribcage as I struggled to control my breathing.

Steady, even breaths, Bella. Keep it together.

I knew that something was wrong the moment I laid eyes on Edward. His face contorted into that of a hunter's – searching for his prey, his protective instincts ruling his every action. He only displayed this side of himself in two instances: while hunting, and when there was a threat to someone he loved.

I pieced two and two together and assumed that he flew out the door in search of the delivery boy, and I knew the situation was truly serious when Alice followed behind him shortly thereafter, leaving me alone, unguarded and unprotected.

He's here… he's been here. He knows… he could be here right now.

My body was jumping into overdrive and I contemplated the various possibilities.

Possibility number one: Paul was here – in this building, right now.

That seemed unlikely because I knew it would've popped up on Alice or Edward's radar when the caught the scent of wolf, which they hadn't.

Possibility two: he had been here, or was watching me from afar – far enough away that it wouldn't trip their hypersensitive senses but close enough that he could monitor my every move.

I re-read the words on the paper, my hands shaking violently as I tried to pull myself back from the brink of a complete meltdown.

To Bella,

Our time together wasn't a complete waste, was it?

I can't wait to be a father.

-P

I felt my stomach churning, the bile rising in my throat as I struggled to force it back down. There was no time to unravel… if Paul was here, he was planning something and it wouldn't be long before his plans turned into action.

Every step of this journey had been excruciating and debilitating, but this moment surpassed all the rest.

I had three choices: to keep this thing growing inside of me, to wait and see if I was miscarrying, or to end it on my own terms. I was grappling with the options, and the possibilities. I imagined myself struggling to parent a child that I never wanted, that was borne of the most brutal violence I'd ever known. I imagined tying myself to Edward, and beginning this journey together, building a life with this thing living inside me… together.

It was painful, unimaginable, but it remained a possibility.

Until now. Until I realized that this would forever be a marker of Paul and his violence, it would be the way he maintained the ultimate form of control over me. Even if he was destroyed and I no longer had to worry about the physical threat he posed to me, I would still forever be tied to him. He would forever own a part of me, and my choice would be completely taken from me for the rest of my life.

I can't wait to be a father…

I felt nauseated as I re-read the words, recognizing that perhaps this had been one of his goals all along. His hatred was so encompassing and consuming that he wanted to destroy me, bit by bit, piece by piece. Slowly. Painfully. Torturously.

He wanted to fracture my relationship with Edward. He wanted to wedge himself into the middle of it forever, so that no matter how hard we worked to rebuild what had been broken when Edward left, it would never be enough to completely bridge the space between us.

The space would always, and forever, be marked and filled with the literal pieces of himself that he'd left behind.

I collapsed onto the floor, my body giving away underneath me as the weight of this moment became too much to bear. There I sat, my head spinning, my body burning with the reminders of the ways in which he'd already marked me.

And that was the moment that I knew, with absolute certainty, that if I kept this part of him, and allowed it to grow inside of me, I would be completely destroyed. There was no future that could hold us both.

It was one or the other.

EPOV

"Jacob," I spoke quickly into the phone, aware that every second I spent away from Bella was agonizing for both of us. The anxiety of not having her in my protection was overwhelming, and so I vowed to myself that I would keep this necessary conversation brief.

"What's up?" Jacob's tired voice replied, still heavy and laced with sleep.

"He's been here. Or he has someone involved that's been here," I explained, rushing through the conversation and hoping that this would be enough to mobilize Jacob and his pack of dogs.

"What do you mean?" The sleep was lifting and the haze in his voice was almost completely gone. My words had alerted him exactly as I'd meant them to.

"We're at Forks Hospital with Bella, and he had flowers delivered here with a handwritten note addressed to her," I pressed myself against the wall of the stairwell, acutely aware that the acoustics of this enclosure carried my voice much farther than I wanted them to. I climbed the stairs quickly, finding the door for the 5th floor, abandoning the stairwell altogether in hopes of maintaining the privacy of this conversation.

"Wait – what? Why is Bella in the hospital?" Jacob's voice was laced with concern and I could hear him frantically trying to get himself dressed in the background as he spoke to me.

"It's nothing we need to discuss over the phone. But we need you and the rest of the pack to dive into action immediately. We're not sure if he's been here, if he sent someone else, or if he's still here. We need to scope the entire region immediately."

"I'm on it. We'll take care of it."

"Thank you," I said hesitantly, satisfied with the length of the conversation and anxious to return to Bella.

"You've 'gotta tell me though… why is Bella in the hospital… is she ok?"

I sighed, wishing that Jacob would understand the need for brevity and discretion.

"There was a… complication. She's here, she's perfectly well and we're handling it."

"Hey," Jacob's angry voice carried through the phone and my frustration was mounting with each passing second "you can't just pretend like she doesn't matter to me. You can't shut me out. You're telling me she's in the hospital and that Paul's sending her flowers and shit, but you won't tell me why she's there?"

"It's not for me to divulge, Jacob. I have to do what I can to protect Bella's privacy, even if that means keeping you in the dark."

There was silence on the other line, though I could hear the shuffling sounds of Jacob tearing through his home as he prepared to gather the rest of the pack.

"Can you keep her safe?" he questioned after a few moments had passed.

"Yes," I said, absolutely sure that Bella's safety would be best safeguarded by my presence.

"Is she really ok?" his voice sounded tired, filled with the familiar sounds of pain that had been reverberating through the voices of everyone that cared for Bella in the recent days.

"She will be," I said softly.

"Ok… where do we meet you?"

"You'll meet Emmett, Rosalie, Esme and Alice at the highway line of our family home. They're there now, waiting for all of you. Emmett has received instruction from Jasper regarding the procedure for combing every inch of the surrounding area to figure out if he's been around."

Jacob laughed into the phone.

"We've got it covered – don't worry about that. We can handle this."

"I hope so."

"Take care of her…" Jacob urged, his voice hollow.

"I will," I assured him, ending the call as I made my way back to Bella.

CPOV

Esme's small hands traced the length of my back, resting finally on my shoulders as she leaned forward and placed delicate kisses against the back of my neck.

I felt my body unravelling, her hands working through each layer of tension and anxiety that had mounted inside of me since we had returned to Forks. Truly, though, my body had been in a state of total disarray since Edward first left us. It was as though a large and significant part of me had been torn away, leaving the rest of me raw and exposed.

Edward had been my companion for nearly a hundred years, and the distance that had spanned between us over the last several months was agonizing – almost as agonizing as knowing the turmoil he was experiencing in separating himself from his mate, his true love.

His efforts to protect Bella were misguided and foolish and it was an action that led me realize that Edward was, truly, still young and inexperienced, relatively speaking. He believed that the ultimate way to express love was to put oneself last, and prioritize the object of affection above all else.

What Edward had failed to account for was the inexplicable connection that had been forged between him and Bella from the moment he'd laid eyes on her. She was his destiny, and he was hers, and there was no force strong enough to keep them apart.

Edward had never experienced mating – he had never known the feeling of finding the companion that was built for you and you for them – uniquely and perfectly matching your soul in the way that only a soulmate truly can. It was foolish, I knew. But there was no changing his mind. It didn't matter how emphatically I tried to relay to Edward the impossibility of severing such a unifying bond, he was insistent.

He believed that the only way to protect Bella was to put as much space between them as physically possible. He moved half way across the world, running from the inevitable. I knew that it would only be a matter of time before he was no longer able to abstain from Bella. He would return to her, or he would cease to exist – whichever came sooner.

Through the months I held out hope that his resolve would weaken quickly, and that this torture wouldn't be prolonged past a few months. As the days drew on, I was beginning to realize that I shouldn't have underestimated Edward's resolve.

Had it not been for Alice's unintended vision, I wonder if he would have returned at all – or if it would have been too late when he finally decided to seek Bella out again.

"Carlisle, you look absolutely worn, my love." Esme's soft hands found purchase when she trailed them across my chest, gently pulling open the buttons of my collared shirt. I closed my eyes, reveling in her glory and in the inherent peace I found whilst in her presence.

"I don't know how much more she can take, Esme," I explained, closing my eyes as I allowed her to continue her comforting ministrations. It had been weeks since we'd been able to connect – most of our interactions were brief and revolved around caring for Bella, or previously, around trying to concoct new and unique ways to bring Edward back into our lives.

"I know," she replied sadly "she's been through so much and there's no clear end in sight. We couldn't find anything today. No trace of him whatsoever. He must have someone doing the work of watching Bella for him."

I nodded in agreement, my mind combing through the possibilities and the potential angles he might have taken to maintain awareness of Bella and everything that was happening to her.

"Somebody was in the hospital and overheard us, that's the only possibility. But it doesn't make any sense – Edward would have heard the thoughts of someone that was approaching, and would have caught wind of someone that was intentionally trying to spy to gain information. And if it had been a wolf, we would have caught that scent – it's distinct and unmistakeable."

The silence carried on between us as Esme continued to help me out of my shirt, her hands working across my body as she rubbed soothing circles along the stone-like flesh of my back. Every so often her lips would find my skin and she would kiss me delicately and softly.

"How did it go?"

"The procedure?"

Esme nodded.

"It went as well as can be expected," I sighed, recalling the events of a mere two hours ago – recalling Bella's fragility and her unrelenting strength. The decision that she made – to terminate the pregnancy, was grounded in her desires, in her own regard for herself and her own needs. Above all else, whatever decision she made, I wanted it to be rooted in what she felt was best for her.

"Was it the right choice, Carlisle?" Esme's voice was guarded. She didn't want to appear disapproving of Bella's choice, but she was also hesitant to disregard the difficulty inherent in choosing to terminate. I knew that it would bring back haunting and painful memories for Esme from her own human life where she'd lost a child.

In Esme's eyes, their loss was no different – one was not more valid than the other. A loss is a loss and Esme was grieving for Bella and the position she had been placed in.

"It was the right decision, Esme. She was resolute and certain. I worried at first that it was merely a reaction to the note, the flowers and the possible presence of Paul. But I think that was the direction she was heading in anyway, and Paul's intrusion was a timely reminder of what she wanted for herself."

"How did you manage… performing the procedure yourself?"

I stiffened at Esme's question, terrified of examining my own thoughts for fear of what I might find there. Things had happened so quickly that I'd barely had a moment to contemplate any of this. I'd barely had a second to check in with myself to see where I was at.

Mostly, I imagined, I would find heartbreak and sorrow contained inside of myself. The intimacy of helping Bella through this process in the ways that I had was unparalleled. I'd been close with patients in the past, and always strived to form intimate and close relationships with the humans I was caring for, but Bella was not just a patient. She wasn't just another person that I was trying to provide comfort and reassurance to. She was as good as my own daughter, and helping her through these moments of grief and absolute tragedy was the hardest obstacle I'd come across in decades.

Knowing the turmoil that awaited her when the shock of this all wore off – knowing what she was up against when her body finally healed and she was allowed the space and room to breathe that she needed to truly examine her own feelings about this I wondered if she would be consumed by it. I wondered if she would make it through the other side alive and human.

"I don't know, Esme. I've barely had a moment to contemplate my own feelings, let alone process them. But I imagine that when I finally do, I'll be staring down a lot of grief and anger."

Esme nodded, her eyes brimming with sadness as her hands traveled down the length of my arms and found my hands, which she took in her own and squeezed in a gesture of love and reassurance.

"She'll make it through this. We'll make sure of it."

I believed her when she spoke, her conviction was unmatched.

"And Edward?" I turned to face her, my eyes catching hers as we stared at one another with a rawness and pain that was consuming.

"He'll be ok, Carlisle. Once Paul is gone, we can all work on moving forward. Edward included."

"But his anger Esme… it's overwhelming him. He fights it, but I'm not sure how much longer it can be contained. It's growing a life of it's own."

"For now all we can do is to continue to support him and gently coach him towards self-control and containment. He loves and respects you, and he listens to you. Which is miraculous for Edward."

"He listens to you as well. Your words sometimes affect him the most."

Esme nodded.

"I know, and I've barely had a moment alone with him to check in and see where he's at."

"I doubt you'll get a moment anytime soon. Edward took Bella home tonight. I gather that she wanted some privacy after the events of today – and she felt she wasn't able to get that here. She wasn't very forthcoming… I think she might have been concerned about offending us or hurting our feelings. I assured her that we're not so easily bothered."

"Privacy is a rarity in a house full of vampires," Esme agreed.

Esme's hands ran along my chest again, her delicate fingers tracing small circles as she meandered across the flesh. Her head dipped down, and her lips found my throat.

And here, in her arms, was the most peace I'd felt in very, very long time.

EPOV

Bella stirred in my arms, her face pulling into tight lines and her body beginning to tremble though her eyes remained closed. She was sleeping. Dreaming.

Probably a nightmare.

She always started this way when the nightmares were happening. Slow, cautious movements as her mind worked to fight it's way through of whatever horror it was grappling with as she slept. And then it would transform into frantic movements, flailing limbs, and blood-curdling screams as she came face to face with her most unrelenting fears.

There was nothing to do when this happen but hold her. Sometimes I would try signing to her, hoping that the soothing lyrics would help quell her mind and pull her back into a state of peace and calm. It rarely worked. The only comfort I could provide was being here when we awoke, my arms wrapped around her as I tried to convince her that she was ok, that I was ok, and that he hadn't hurt her again.

It would be several long minutes before she really believed me, but I would patiently walk her through it until the moment where all the pieces pulled back together into a logical sequence. And even then, she was more alert, more paranoid – more afraid.

It was infuriating. He had her in his grips, his iron clad grips and the most I could do was coax her back into safety every so often.

I imagined the nightmares would be even worse now after the events of the night. We arrived back at Bella's home an hour ago. She'd begged me to take her to her home, claiming she needed privacy and that it was impossible to get in a house filled with vampires.

I obliged, driving her home and resolving to stay with her – assuring her I'd be just outside her window until Charlie was out of her room.

But she'd fallen asleep on the ride home. I'd carried her inside, only to find Charlie sleeping soundly on the couch. When we moved upstairs he woke up, meeting us at the top step, panic written all over his aged features.

"What's going on," he whispered his face heavy with the look of sleep and fatigue.

"It's a long story, Chief Swan. But Bella's fine. She's ok. She wanted to come back home to sleep tonight, and Carlisle gave us the ok as long as I bring her back tomorrow morning so he can keep an eye on her again," I explained, my voice hushed as I pulled Bella tighter against my chest.

Charlie nodded, the look of panic easing somewhat, but still omnipresent on his worn face.

"Tomorrow. You'll explain tomorrow." It wasn't a question, but a demand. One that I, unfortunately, could not agree to. This was Bella's and Bella's alone to share. It wasn't my place to tell Charlie this.

"I'm sure Bella will have more to say tomorrow morning after she's rest some more," I offered, hoping that would be enough to satisfy him for now.

He looked hesitant, but nodded, heading back downstairs toward the couch again.

Bella's room was largely unchanged. I moved her onto the bed, my movements so lithe and slight that she barely stirred when I laid her down and covered her frail body with the heavy blankets from her bed.

I pulled off my sweater and crawled in next to her, and as soon as I did her small body gravitated toward me as she pressed herself against my side, draping her arm across my chest. I waited, anticipating Charlie's return, expecting that he would attempt to kick me out but he never came. I could hear him downstairs, channel surfing for several minutes before he fell back asleep. His thoughts were intense, and he contemplated kicking me out several times, but then he let it be.

He trusted that I wouldn't harm Bella. And he knew what my presence meant to her. And so he allowed me to stay, knowing that things were different now.

Things had changed.

All of the things he'd wanted to protect his little girl from were the very things that had wound up harming her to begin with. And none of those things were anything he could directly find me at fault for – no matter how vehemently I disagreed with that thought, it remained.

And so he left us.

Bella's nightmares started shortly after as a thin sheen of sweat found its way onto her furrowed brow. Her body stiffened against mine and her limbs became rigid. Low murmurs were rumbling out of her and they quickly grew into desperate pleas.

"No," she moaned, her body thrashing against mine. She repeated the plea over and over again and the thrashing grew more and more intense, reaching a degree that left me concerned about whether or not she might break something against the concrete strength of my body.

Her small arm was still draped across my chest, and I watched her arm as he tensed and flexed, her hand finding the fabric of my shirt which she then clenched tightly in her hand.

I was desperate to help her through this. I ran my index finger along the length of her forearm, running along the purplish and blue bruises marring the ivory colour of her skin.

She stirred, her body stilling and her moans stopping briefly as I made contact with her in more intentional ways.

And then she stirred again when I stopped, the nightmare mounting inside of her at my lack of touch.

And so I touched her again, laying my palm flat against her upper arm, my cold hand delicately rubbing along her badly bruised skin. My eyes, in the dark, could make out the distinct shaped of handprint bruises – where he'd held her down, his grip so forceful that it left welts and bruises.

My fingers ran across the welts and bruises, and Bella's body responded immediately, her moans of agony transforming into soft mews, sounds of happiness and pleasure leaving her body instead.

This was the barest I'd seen her in a very long time, as she was dressed in only a thin, cotton, white undershirt. She'd changed from the hospital gown but when we'd arrived at her home I'd pulled her out of the thick, sweater of mine that she was wearing so that she could sleep more comfortably.

This was the first time I was able to really examine her bare arms and neck. And I could see every shade and hue of harm he'd caused her. Every small bruise, every large bruise. Every welt. Every cut.

My hand moved to her neck, finding the thick, finger-shaped bruises there. I struggled to maintain myself as my anger grew inside of me – every natural instinct I possessed was screaming at me to protect my mate, to eliminate the threat that harmed her to begin with.

I swallowed down the venom that was pooling in my mouth and continued to run my fingers across Bella's battered body.

Seconds later I felt Bella's tiny hand reach up and grasp mine, her warm hand covering my cool skin in a gesture that made the anger boiling inside of me shrink ever so slightly. I looked down at her face, her brown eyes were fixated on my own, tears sitting at the brim, threatening to spill over any second.

Bella's hand tugged on mine as she pulled it across the length of her neck, and down to her protruding collar bone. She pulled my fingers across the length of the bone, pulling further down until my fingers were resting on the space just above her breasts.

I looked down and noticed the fading red groupings of broken blood vessels lining her chest, obviously left there by his mouth.

Bella sat up slowly, pushing her hair out of her face as she did.

"Help me?" she asked, her voice low and tired.

I nodded.

"Anything," I promised.

"Help me change. I want out of these clothes, I smell like a hospital… but I can't do it alone" she explained as her eyes cast downwards, her body filling with signs of her shame as she spoke.

"Of course." I could see how deeply she wanted to be able to do this alone, but her body wouldn't allow her that autonomy yet. She hadn't healed quite enough to manage.

She moved over to the side of the bed, and I followed, moving to the floor just in front of her, kneeling down as I awaited her instruction.

Her hands traveled to the hem of her shirt as she pulled at the fabric, struggling it to pull it up and over her head. I helped her, replacing her hands with my own as I gripped onto the thin cotton, gently tugging it up and over her head.

Her shoulders tensed and her body was rigid as I helped her.

"It's ok, love," I assured her, trying to relay my message with the utmost sincerity.

She nodded as she shrugged off the shirt, her hands falling to her sides in a display of defeat.

BPOV

His eyes were locked onto my body, and there was nothing I could do to change this moment. I had awoken to the feeling of his hands tracing across my body, his touch awakening the deadened parts of me and healing the broken parts of me.

Each place he touched felt like an erasure of Paul and the ways in which he'd touched me. The contrast was severe. Edward was gentle, loving, soothing, soft and cold. Paul was rough, violent, volatile, angry, bruising and hot. Edward's hands were tools in this moment, replacing what had been burned into my memory and into my body.

It was true, what I told him. I did want out of the clothes I was wearing, and I could smell the sterile hospital smell pressing against every facet of my consciousness. But more than that I wanted his hands to find connection with my body. I wanted that contrasting feeling to find refuge in the parts of me that felt damaged beyond repair.

He knelt down in front of me and gently pulled my shirt up and over my head. And I sat in front of him, nothing but a bra covering my body – the most exposed I'd ever been in front of him. His eyes were locked on my face, but then the slowly began to travel downwards, holding in places where there was more noticeable damage. His eyes resting on the most damaged parts of me - the bite marks across my chest, the handprint-shaped bruises on my neck, the welts on my arms, my broken and torn ribs. His eyes ghosted over every part of me and as he did his sadness grew larger and large inside of him until it was no longer well-hidden.

He looked as though he was crying, though no tears poured from his dark, black eyes.

In this moment I knew what I wanted. I knew what I needed. I had just awoken from a nightmare where Paul was claiming my body again, and the feeling of waking up next to Edward, his hands exploring my body in the safest and most loving way possible brought me the deepest peace I'd known since this all began.

"Touch me," I whispered, desperately afraid that he would reject me, but throwing caution to the wind because I was sure that I could become addicted to the feeling of his hands on my body.

He stopped and looked up at me, his eyes confused.

"I need it," I explained, my fear growing as I explained this absurd feeling that was coursing through me.

"I need you," I clarified.

His eyes reflected his feelings, and they were filled with sadness. But he nodded, and he reached a tentative hand out towards me. I met his hand halfway and pulled it towards me, placing it against my burning ribcage, just beneath my chest. His palm flattened against the skin, the feeling of coolness spreading across the entire area.

I shivered.

He pulled back but I grabbed his hand again and rested in against the same spot.

"Don't," I said softly "he was so hot. I can feel it all the time. I can feel his warmth all the time."

He was stiff, holding his hand in place but looking uncomfortable.

"It's ok," I offered, my eyes finding his but unable to focus in the dark. A small beam of moonlight was peeking through from the window behind him, illuminating the space around his body but unable to reach his face. I was sure, however, that my body was glowing in the bright, white light.

His hand moved across my abdomen, traveling up my side, ghosting over the side of my breast as he quickly moved past and rested his fingertips against the bruises on my neck.

The relief was overwhelming. The images that constantly occupied my mind of Paul's body suspended over top of mine and he tore through my body were hazy and difficult to pull forward as Edward's fingers rested against my flesh.

And then his hands moved from my neck, over my collarbone, down to my arms which were still varying shades of black and blue.

And then he moved forward, slowly, at an almost unbearable pace, towards my arm.

His lips pressed against the finger-shaped bruise marring my ghastly white skin.

And I unraveled.

My body contracted and released, simultaneously, pulling me out of my carefully constructed resolve, and launching me into the present, to this moment, where Edward's hands were replacing the memories of Paul's.

I had never felt such tenderness before – such love, compassion or gentleness. This was outside of anything else I'd ever felt, and it was resurrecting the parts of myself I was sure had been crushed into nothingness.

Edward moved closer to my body again, this time his face parallel to my own. And his lips found my right cheek, where he placed the softest and most delicate kiss. His lips trailed downwards, towards my neck, where he followed the path of bruises, downwards still, toward the bite marks that lined the skin just above my chest.

His lips lingered there, their cold, hard, softness chasing away the memories of what my body was programmed to accept.

"Bella," he breathed out, the agony in his voice tormenting me, ripping me apart inside all while healing me in the same instance.

He pressed his cheek against the space just above my heart, his head resting there as my hands came to land in his disarray of copper-brown hair. He remained there for a few seconds more, before he placed his hands on my hips and helped me into a standing position, all while remaining on his knees.

And then his fingers began working away at the clasp of my slacks, the button popping open and the zipper creaking against the fabric as he slowly pulled away at the confines of the clothing. His fingers lopped into the fabric that was hugging my waist, and he pulled downwards, the too-loose pants pooling into a pile at my feet, falling away from my bony body with just the slightest provocation.

A low growl erupted from Edward, and I watched as his silhouetted body struggled with the task at hand, caught between guilt, confusion, and anger. Had this been 9 months ago, Edward never would have allowed this to take place. He never would have put himself in a position where he might see my body unclad in just my undergarments.

But things were different.

I was different.

He was different.

We were different.

His hands were on me, running over the badly bruised flesh of my hips, where the bones were jutting out, pressing against the welted skin, contorting my body into a pile of flesh and bones. And then his lips… his lips pressed against the aching flesh, leaving in their wake a trail of icy coolness – relief.

Edward stood abruptly, stalking over to my dresser where he pulled out a set of pajamas before resuming his position in front of me, standing now. He helped me into the lavender-coloured pants, bearing most of my weight and bending into awkward positions as he helped me pull them over my legs.

He made to help me into my shirt, but I stopped him.

"Please," I begged, tears falling freely from my eyes now "please – I want to feel the cold. I want to feel your coldness."

He looked at me with confused eyes, and although I couldn't see the details of his face, I could tell his expression by the way his body moved, his head cocked slightly to the side as his shoulder tensed.

My hands found the hem of his shirt, and I ignored the pain as I attempted to lift the shirt over his head, but he stopped me, admonishing me as he did.

"Bella, stop," his voice was soft, light, filled with love and concern as he spoke, "this isn't right."

"No," I groaned, "I just want to feel you against me," I whispered. He hesitated for a moment, contemplating my request. And then he surprised me.

He placed my hands at my sides, and pulled his shirt off, throwing it into a pile in the corner. His hands found my hips and he lifted me into his arms, placing me onto the bed, underneath the covers. And then he joined me, his cool, hard body pressing tenderly against my aching, burning flesh and bones.

His touch.

The relief.

I drifted into sleep.

Restful, blissful sleep.

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I've had epic writer's block. But I'm back at it now, and the writing is flowing out of me faster than I can contain it!

Please let me know what you think - this is a bit of an interlude, a break from the heaviness.