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Just three days had passed since he awoke to find the lipstick farewell on his pillow. The very same pillow that still smelled of her. He thought he was full on hallucinating when he found her standing on the other side of his door earlier, at the ready to leave the waiting world behind to join him for the evening.

She'd never visited with such frequency. Not since before . . . .

He reminded himself that he was sober and, last he knew, sane and ushered her into his home. She looked exactly the same, but yet completely different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but tried not to dwell on this unknown as he was acutely aware that she would offer no details, and his not knowing what was going on with her would lead him to the same outcome as knowing. Alone in the early morning hours.

She made no haste; she seemed to be examining the contents of his front room, as if casing the place to take his stereo with her when she slipped out of bed, leaving him too exhausted to take notice or prohibit her. He smiled at the thought of her trying to be stealthy. She was a contradiction of grace: so aesthetic, a myriad of curves and lengths so artistically arranged; yet so unskilled in movement and flourishes.

He held his tongue, figuring that her methods would be revealed in good time. He hated the immediacy of his world and willed himself to slow down and just enjoy her floating amongst his belongings. Like she might crawl up onto the shelf and take up residence as a bookend at any moment.

Maybe he wasn't so sane anymore, after all.

He moved behind her as she examined his bookcases. He knew if he didn't divert her attention soon, she'd spend her whole time up reading cross-legged on his hardwood floor, not even bothering to move to the slight cushion of the Persian rug that stopped a couple of feet away from the wall. She would stay in reach of her precious books. His precious books.

Two hands landed on either side of her, resting lightly on the shelf at the height of her waist. She leant back into him, resting her weight fully on him. He could envision the closing of her eyes, and his heart swelled when he heard the soft contented sigh escape her lips.

This exercise was one from which he'd fallen out of practice. He hadn't had to coax her into his bedroom in years. Her insistence had become ferocious, growing in intensity with each subsequent visit. It was the only thing that made him believe that her visits weren't some kind of recurring dream. They were never exactly the same. He found that his body remembered how, without being told, just like riding a bike. He used one hand to put back the book she held in her hands, the other wrapping around and coming to rest on her stomach, slowly pulling her more firmly into him. She let go of the book with no resistance and put her hand on top of his. Her head leaned away from his lips, allowing his coaxing along her neck to be more effective. When he finally spun her around in his arms, she met his lips quickly.

He was sure this was so he could ask no questions. She knew she was behaving oddly. And she knew that he could tell. He swallowed his questions as he matched his tongue against hers. He promised himself that one of these days he'd get back at her for the lack of details by not opening his door for her, not giving in.

He'd been promising himself that for years.

The thought struck him suddenly that perhaps she had come more frequently than he realized. That just maybe she had found herself on his doorstep to an unanswered door while he was in Italy or Morocco or being forced into one of the society set-ups that his mother forced upon him in efforts to find him a suitable wife. He wondered if she just simply turned away and found some other outlet for her energy.

Oh, the questions he had for her.

Her fingernails scraped down his back underneath his untucked shirt, digging in harder as she pulled down and around his hips in search of his belt buckle. Her signature move. He knew what came next and decided for once he wasn't going to let her lead the whole scenario.

After all, he had needs, too.

Upon her beginning to back him toward his bedroom while her nimble fingers began unlatching his belt, he scooped her up and flung her over his shoulder, heading down the hall into the guest bathroom. After his locking the door and turning on the shower, she stood against the sink, her now swollen bottom lip stuck out for effect. He took notice of her as he moved slowly back in front of her.

She was intoxicating. Frustration and lust mixed up in her to coax out an insatiable beast. She didn't take not getting her way lightly. She was goal-oriented and driven. His mind drifted to that last time he failed to give her what she was looking for. He wouldn't let himself think that his having let her walk away was the exact reason that he'd let her do this her way all these years.

He'd done it her way long enough. She'd taken the no ties arrangement to an extreme. Not only were they not exclusive, she'd kept them nearly complete strangers save for their abilities to map out the others bodies blindfolded.

Once more, she would play by his rules or get out.

"Time to come clean, Bells. I suggest you strip down and get into the shower, or else I'm going to have to do this the hard way."

A look of indignance shot over her features. This clearly wasn't what she'd come for. "And what if I just leave instead?"

He shrugged, "Your call. But don't expect me to be there the next time."

She eyed him carefully, at first sure he didn't mean what he said. Her fingers toyed with the bottom button on her sweater. She bit the inside of her cheek and met his eyes through the steam that was building from the constant stream of hot water pounding against the bathtub.

"I can't tell you everything," she said finally.

He stepped forward and put his hands over hers, stilling her nervous fidgeting. "I'm just asking for a little more than nothing," he confessed as he continued to stare into her eyes. She gave a slight nod and he let go so she could pull her clothes off quickly, creating a pile with his before she returned to press her body into his, kissing him fervently as they stepped into the cascading water.

~*~

"I didn't mean for it to be like this," she said softly, just as he had fallen into the warm confines of fogginess that tingled over his body before he found sleep.

"Like what?" he had to force his tongue to form the words, they were thick and chalky as they passed through his lips. He slid a hand up into her hair so she would know he was giving her all his focus. "Bella?" he asked after her prolonged silence.

"I shouldn't even still be here, I should go," she kissed his temple softly.

"Not tonight. Stay," he commanded more than anything else and tightened the grip he had around her waist.

"I can't," she protested, running a friendly hand down his chest.

"Why?" his eyes now open again, catching her in a trap of his own.

"Because that's how it is."

"I can't do this," he groaned, burying his head into her chest. He felt two hands now, stroking through his hair, holding him to her. Comforting him.

"We have been for years. It's who we are," she said with great clarity, her words vaguely echoing her reason for sending them into the tailspin of their current, more ambiguous understanding. He didn't want to understand anymore. He didn't understand how she was okay with this.

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" he asked suddenly, moving his head to rest now on her shoulder as she looked down into his eyes.

"I'm," she paused, unable to lie to him, unable to give him more. "I'm figuring some things out."

"Meaning your visits will be more frequent in the foreseeable future?" he baited.

"Is that a problem?" Her confidence gave way to doubt in her eyes. She wasn't sure of his continued agreement to be there for her. To give her whatever it was she gained from her bouts of time spent in his bed.

His head was pounding with want and uneasiness. The scenarios for each answer couldn't play out in his head fast enough to make a rational decision. So he went with all that he was sure of. His gut feeling.

"No," he breathed.

"I'll stay, until you're asleep," she consented, brushing her lips over his gently. "I promise."

He knew she was appeasing him, though he hoped that somehow it was what she wanted despite whatever obligations she might have. Early meetings, a troubled roommate, someone else waiting for her at home . . . no, that couldn't be the case. She wasn't the type to be with him like this, for all this time, when there was someone else in the picture. He had wondered over the years how it was possible that she'd found no one else to give her what she wanted. A boyfriend. A one and only.

But her visits to him, though infrequent, were steady. There were never long periods of time when she didn't appear. Unless she had gone through a string of one month or less relationships.

That would be a lot of idiotic men. Men that would let her go. Just like he had.

So he'd never questioned it. She was still seeking him out, and he was willing to be sought after by her. He knew the day would come that something better came along in her life and he would be forgotten. Each time treated as if it might be the last. His own revolving door had slowed to a near halt save for her—not that he was monastic by any means, but he was simply growing up. He was too busy, he had too many demands on his time. Not to mention he trusted fewer people now that he was in charge of his own estate. He wasn't dumb enough to fork over half of his family's fortune for one night of distraction.

"You always do," he whispered, catching her lips against his once more, not pleading with her, but sealing her promise. Perhaps asking for a bit more. If not for her warm body to be the first thing he became conscious of in the morning, at the very least for her to return again in a timely manner. Not to be scared of this new development.

Talking.

He shuddered at how simplistic it was. Parents don't have to wait so long to hear their own children utter their first words as he'd gone without hearing her speak a full sentence. Their only vocalizations in the last few years had been animalistic, as their control left them. Soft moans, encouragement, desires. Far cries from the once combative and electric debates they used to have before they fell into bed.

He knew one thing for sure. He knew her fight was still in her somewhere. He just wasn't quite sure what it was that she was fighting.

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Well there it is!!!!! Please review and tell me what you think!!!!

Question: Do you think Bella could be a better at being a lawyer or a reporter??

Please give your opinion on the matter because I'm not so sure!!!!!!