Three hours later…

I stumbled out of the busy garden and into the Cullen household, barefoot and more than a little disoriented due to the large amount of alcohol I had consumed. It was around two in the morning and everyone left was outside in the beautifully landscaped garden, enjoying the alcohol soaked environment and one another's pleasantly drunken company.

Alcohol was not my thing, I admitted to myself as I slowly tripped my way down the dark corridor to what I assumed was the kitchen, if my hazy memory served me correctly. I faltered when I opened the door, first fumbling for the handle, and then startled by the light, my eyes unable to adjust.

I had never drunk before, and tonight several rounds of shots and a couple of beers had been enough to affect me greatly. I was feeling okay, not completely wasted, but my mind was pleasantly numb and my reflexes lazy at best. I clattered round the empty kitchen, desperately trying to find a glass so that I could fix myself some water and perhaps ward off the awful hangover I knew I'd be subjected to in the morning. Whilst I had never had any experience in this field before, I knew from listening to Alice's headachy whining that rehydration was the key to a pain free aftermath.

At last I found the right cupboard, inwardly triumphant that despite my inebriation I had not yet done anything stupid, and I was still able to look after myself when all of a sudden I heard a small noise from behind me, perhaps a person almost silently entering the room. I spun around less than expertly, curious to see who dared barge in on my first piece of tranqu-

Oh My Freakin' God. There he was. Edward Cullen. Sex personified. The love of my life. The one I had watched from afar for God knows how long. And we were alone.

He was just beautiful. A mass of pale, lean limbs, graceful yet manly, and a face that would put every one of the Greek Gods to shame. Tonight his top half was encased in a blue and white striped open necked shirt, sleeves pushed up messily to his elbows revealing forearms that sent a barrage of dirty thoughts through my head, and his legs looked tailor made to fit the washed out Levis he wore. Over one arm he slung a jacket, and the other hand held a set of keys in their firm grasp.

After I had given his body a thorough twice-over, I let my eyes settle on his face, the one that would forever me embedded in my mind. He was completely breathtaking. Those intense almond eyes, lush green with flecks of gold and a healthy glint of mischief, a perfectly straight nose, rounded cutely at the end and the strongest, manliest jaw line I had ever witnessed, clean shaven as any gentlemen should be. His mouth was another entity in itself. Plump, fleshy and succulently pink with a cupids bow, lips that were sure to leave not only an imprint on my skin but also the rest of my life if I were ever lucky enough to be graced with their touch.

And his hair. Oh god, that hair. Messy, silken locks, the colour of burnt umber and bronze, that were just begging to be pulled and teased by my only too willing fingers. To have my hands embedded in his magnificent sex hair would be my own kind of heaven, just as other worldly as having his lips upon mine. Although in heaven, I'd have both, and his body too.

He leaned casually against the island not five feet away from me, an amused expression playing across his features as I just stood there, open mouthed, completely immobilized. And only then it occurred to me that I had just been shamelessly gawping for at least a few minutes, as I stood here in his kitchen, blatantly intruding with no shoes, my hair all loose and messy, ravaging his cupboards with my skirt probably a little too high for company. Even my alcohol soaked brain could comprehend that something was very, very wrong.

"Oh god.. I'm so.. so sorry. Oh shit, I'm so rude.. I didn't mean to, I mean, Emmett said I could.. oh god, I mean… oh for God's sake, I'm drunk and I really need a glass of water because I hate being sick and I don't want a hangover and my dad would totally freak if he knew I had been drinking."

Oh shit. This is definitely bad. As in, I'm-not-leaving-the-hole-I-have-just-built-myself-for-at-least-20-years bad.

He let out a blatant chuckle at my obvious discomfort and straightened up to his full height.

"Well, hello to you too," he said, flashing me a melting smile. Did he want a molten pool of Bella all over his gorgeous granite counters? Because that panty dropping smile teamed with his voice of rough velvet was definitely going to make me dissolve. Or combust.

"I can see that you're not at the height of sobriety right now," he continued, realising from my goldfish-esque face that I was in no position to make another attempt at conversation.

"Why don't you just sit yourself down and let me fetch you that glass of water? I most certainly wouldn't want you to get in trouble with your father, or risk you being sick tomorrow morning when I can see that you're a very intelligent girl who doesn't deserve the hangover if she's so thoughtful when still under the influence."

Too shocked to do anything else, I nodded mutely and hopped up onto the counter obediently, before cringing at my eagerness and the knowledge that my skirt had now reached dangerous heights. Seeing I was settled, Edward pushed off from the island and –oh god – came closer to where I was perched, and actually leaned over me, his body almost flush against mine as I made no attempt to retract.

Okay, so I knew he'd been flirting with me a second ago, but surely he wasn't now going to take advantage of me in my drunken state? Okay, so it wouldn't be taking advantage, per se, but he wouldn't know that! Confused, I settled for leaning in further, and inhaling his gorgeous smell. If he wanted to take me, sober or not, who was I to judge? But all of a sudden he was stepping back, with a glass in hand. Oh. He was simply retrieving something from the cupboard above my head. Duh, I knew that.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm… you smell really good," I uttered stupidly. My vocal chords were obviously being controlled by something other than my brain. He simply chuckled at my stupidity, once again, and said nothing. He walked to the fridge, placing the glass under the water dispenser and filling it before returning back to me and proffering the antidote for my parched throat and muddled thoughts. I gulped the water gratefully, revelling in the feeling of my dry mouth slowly regaining its moisture.

He watched me, saying nothing, once again leaning against the island, his gaze transfixed on my actions, never straying. I drained the last of the water and began fiddling with the glass, idly wondering if either of us would say something, or if we'd just stare at one another for the rest of eternity. Not that I'd mind. If only he'd come and lean on me again…

"How rude of me!" he proclaimed with a twinkle of amusement in his eye, effectively breaking my inner ponderings.

"Helping out a pretty girl such as yourself without so much as a formal introduction. I'm Edward Cullen."

He took a few steps forward and held out his hand, which I in turn grasped firmly. And it was as if this intertwining of body parts was meant to be, I could literally feel sparks of electricity fusing his warm, soft palm to mine. He kept his hand in mine perhaps a second too long, and then withdrew it before clenching his fist tightly and then relaxing it. He placed the palm which had been fused to mine face down on the cool granite countertop.

"And you are?" he enquired politely, obviously choosing to ignore the pulse of energy that had flowed between us, and my lack of dialogue.

"lovely to meet you," I began, somehow finding my voice.

"I'm-"

"My brother's latest squeeze?" he cut in, grinning dangerously, causing me to choke on nothing but air at not only his words but his sexy expression. He seemed to find my reaction funny, the emotion he appeared to place to everything I did.

"Calm down sugar, it's fine, no need to be embarrassed, it's just I saw a girl on his lap when I came in, and I realised from the dress that it was you. Well, its fine by me, I mean, you're not his normal type, ya know, DD's and bleached blonde locks, but I have to say I'm impressed. You're a sweet little thing."

Did he just insult my cup size, whilst calling me 'sugar' and giving me the most patronizing but best compliment I had ever had?!

"N-no. Me and Emmett are just-"

"Friends?" he chuckled, cutting in once again. Okay, so I loved this guy and all, but he was starting to annoy me just the teensiest bit. What was with all the secretive amusement and not letting me finish any of my sentences?

"Ah, I see. So he's not quite under your spell yet," he said with a wink, like he'd had this conversation, seen this situation, many times before.

"Well, don't worry sugar," he grinned, not noticing the unflattering shade of beetroot I must've been turning at his far out assumptions.

"I'll put in a good word for you, if you like. It's about time he stopped banging all those sluts." Oh god. He was saying dirty words, his voice dripping seduction as he all but whispered them in my ear. How had I not noticed him getting closer? And why was he turning me on so much when he was talking about setting me up with his brother?!

"B-But.." I whimpered, thoroughly set in my lust induced daze.

"Bella, please, I insist." He crooned. Ung. I could feel his hot breath on the shell of my ear.

"Besides, if you're feeling especially grateful, I'm sure we could work out some sort of… payback scheme." He pulled back, his eyes glinting wildly and I gulped audibly, much to his further amusement. Was it even possible for me to see even funnier in his eyes!?

"Well, goodbye beautiful Bella, I have a feeling it's way past your bed time. But fear not, I have a feeling we'll be meeting again very soon."

And with that, he offered me another 'amused' grin, and turned as if to leave. But just as he pushed off from the countertop, he leaned in once again and placed a feather light kiss to cheek bone, a mere brushing of lips to my overheated skin, his breath whispering against my eager flesh. My eyes fluttered closed involuntarily as an exultant moan fell from my lips. I heard a chuckle, but by the time my brain had engaged my eyelids and they opened, he was gone, and I was left staring at an empty kitchen and an open door.

With him gone, none of it seemed comprehensible to me. Edward Cullen had not just tended to me like a charming prince, he has not said I was sweet, called me sugar, flirted in my ear or pressed a kiss to my cheek. And he had most certainly not known – and called me by – my name, which I had not offered to him.

What the hell had just happened?

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