A/N: Round of applause for Betsy who always has to beta sexy non-canon chapters through her fingers. Love you!

There was no way this was really happening.

Over the course of his education and career, Carlisle had had cause to do the occasional drug. Never anything extreme, but once or twice in his life, he'd done, among other things, the odd hallucinogen. And, after all, he'd gone to court today. He'd won a big settlement. Maybe his thankful client had slipped him a little something to help him celebrate.

What else could explain the miracle in his arms? The beautiful woman he'd ached for—without hope or a prayer of a chance—was…

Laughing at him?

She bit her lip to stifle a giggle, and tightened her hold on his neck. He stopped, only halfway up the stairs. "What?"

"This is making me nervous. Guys don't carry women up a flight of stairs anywhere but in the movies. You know why? Because they'll hurt themselves."

"Is that right?" He set her on her feet on the stairs and arched an eyebrow. "Are you calling me old?"

"No!" She pressed her lips together, her eyes dancing. She crossed her arms over her bare chest, as though she'd just remembered her nudity. "I mean, the older you get, the more you have to worry about— Ah!"

He'd swept her over his shoulder, ass in the air, delighting in her shriek of laughter. He sucked in a breath when she took advantage of her position to pepper his ass with sharp smacks. "This is not gentlemanly behavior!"

They'd reached his room now, and he tossed her on his over-large bed. Crawling over her, he kissed her hard, swallowing her gasp. When she moaned into his mouth he pulled back, unable to stop the grin that spread. "I never claimed to be a gentleman."

To that end, he leaned down, taking her lips again. He brushed her lips first, just a slight flutter, teasing. She tilted her head up, trying to catch him. She huffed, her hot breath tickling his skin. Her fingers fumbled with his tie, loosening it and sliding it off. He kissed her in full, dipping his tongue to taste her.

She tickled his tummy as she moved her hand up his torso, and he sucked in a breath. His kiss grew harder, more fervent, but he broke it with a shaky exhale when she started to unbutton his shirt. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, breathing in through his nose. It was a bad idea. All he inhaled was the scent of her.

His head swam. She was better than any drug. His cock strained against the confines of his pants. What he wanted more than almost anything was to take his weight off his arms and pin her beneath him. To feel her body wiggling against his.

Her fingertips brushed his chest as she undid another button and Carlisle shuddered, pulling away from her entirely. He chuckled and stole one more kiss before he straightened up, half standing with his feet on the floor but his knees resting on the bed between her legs.

"Hey, come back," she said, sitting up and reaching for his buttons.

He caught her hands by the wrists, making her gasp. He licked his lips, looking at her, all flushed cheeks and hectic hair. Clearly, she had no idea just how erotic he found her touch. It wouldn't take much at all to embarrass himself at this point and that…

No. He wasn't ready for that just yet.

Taking Bella by the shoulders, he gently but insistently pushed her back down on the bed.

It was incredibly charming how she, the same woman who had waltzed into his home and seduced him apropos of nothing, turned suddenly shy. Her cheeks turned deep red, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "You're wearing too many clothes, and I'm wearing hardly anything."

"Hmm. I'd noticed." He brushed the pad of his finger along her cheek, thumbing over her full lips.

"You think that's fair?" She gave him a pointed look, her lower lip jutting out just the slightest bit.

He took her hands and drew her arms away from her chest, pinning them to the bed on either side of her. He let his eyes travel down slowly, so slowly. "I think I've wanted to do this for four years." He let go of her, fingering the mesh and lace of her bra—the bra she'd worn specifically for him. The outline of her nipple strained against the fabric. "I have a lot of curiosity to satisfy." He hooked a finger under the fabric and dragged it up, sweeping his tongue over his lip as her tits sprang free.

Dusky pink nipples set against darker areolas. He'd thrown a pool party once—the first time she'd been at his house. He'd spent an incredible amount of time wondering exactly what her breasts looked like underneath her flirty bikini top.

"Have you really been thinking about this for years?" she asked in a throaty whisper.

His eyes flicked up to hers. That threw a sprinkle of cold water over him. Not nearly enough that he'd pull away. Quite the contrary, he'd begun to trace the shape of her breasts as he considered how to answer her without sounding like a total pervert. He offered her a small, abashed smile. "You mean did I, a thirty-four-year-old man, start lusting after a barely legal teen girl?"

Her eyes popped, and she shook her head, making her tits wiggle quite alluringly. "That's not what I meant," she said. "I—"

He rested a finger over her lips, quieting her. "It's a fair question."

"But I didn't mean it," she insisted. "It's just...I mean, you date women more like you. Successful adults."

He shook his head ruefully, watching her nipples pebble under his touch. "Of course the first thing I noticed was how beautiful you are." A flicker of disbelief flashed through her eyes, and that bothered him. "I have eyes, and you are beautiful, Bella, but that's not why I want this—you—so much."

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he remembered. "It was the million different things about you. You're strong and kind. Funny and too serious."

Taking her hands, he pulled her up and sat on the bed next to her, gathering her close. He cupped her face, caressing her cheek. "I could have ignored my physical attraction easily enough. Not for nothing, but I see a fair number of barely legal teenage girls in my line of business. I have no trouble not giving them a second thought other than to recognize that they're easy on the eyes. You were different." He tilted his head, kissing her sweetly. "You were you."

He kissed her once. "I admire you." He kissed her again. "I adore you." He kissed her one more time. "And you're also sexy as hell."

She huffed out an incredulous laugh on a gust, as though she'd been holding her breath. She cupped her hand around the back of his neck, bringing her head closer to hers. She kissed him, hard and fast and full of molten heat. When she pulled back, a bare inch, they were both breathless. "Take me now," she whispered against his lips. "I promise we'll have time for slow later."

He groaned, taking her face in his hands and pressing his tongue past her lips as he kissed her. The meaning behind those words struck him. Time. They had time for more.

For everything?

That was a question he couldn't answer right then. He felt as though his blood was filled with fire, all of it draining out of his higher functioning brain, headed south. He wasn't terribly good with these kinds of words; tender words. His very bones screamed for him to show her. To surround her and let his body tell her all the secrets he'd kept under such tight control all these years.

He loved her. He had for so long. He wanted her, and he could have her.

With a quick movement, he had her bra undone. He had to smile at the little shimmy she did to slip out of it quickly before her fingers were back at his buttons. He pushed her back down, mouth on hers like he could survive on her kisses alone. He propped himself up on one arm, running his fingers from her collarbone down to her belly button. Her ab muscles flexed under his hand, and she whimpered into his mouth.

Straightening up, he shrugged quickly out of his dress shirt and pulled his undershirt up and off. He was startled when she gasped and whispered a startled, "Oh."

He cocked his head, staring down at her. Her fingers brushed over the tattoos at his sides, and her eyes slid upward, taking in the ones higher up on his shoulders. "Oh, man," she murmured.

His lip twitched. "What?"

"I…" She let out a shaky laugh, raising her eyes to his. "I mean, you're so...I don't know. Straight-laced."

"Bella, I work with rock stars." He leaned down and ran the tip of his nose at her neck. "You always had a thing for a bit of a bad boy, didn't you?" He didn't really have to ask. He'd seethed with jealousy each and every time her head had been turned by a long-haired asshole with tattoos and a motorcycle. He knew it was a phase, a folly of her youth and a belated rebellion from the responsibility that had been thrust on her as a child. She was too smart to fall for any of them in the long run, but that didn't mean he'd liked seeing it. He took her earlobe between his teeth, nibbling lightly. "There are things you don't know about me."

True, he spent most of his working life behind a desk, but there were a lot of perks to his job. If she wanted a touch of excitement now and again, he could give it to her. Backstage passes, after-parties, Hollywood premieres. She could have it all.

She had no idea how long he'd wanted to give her all of this, all of him.

Bella whimpered again, turning her head to catch his lips. Her fingers skimmed along his body, down, down.

And then she cupped him between his legs, where he was hard for her. Now it was him who whimpered.

Right. They were both getting impatient.

He got to his feet, standing at the foot of the bed. Locking his hands around her ankles, he pulled her so her ass was on the edge. He pushed her legs apart and came to stand between them, loving the little noises she made and the way her eyes had gone lust-dark.

Earlier, he'd transferred the condoms she'd had tucked in her back pockets—Christ, that little move had driven him straight out of his mind—into his. He fished them out now, and tossed all but one packet to the side. He unbuckled his pants and slid them down along with his underwear, all the while watching Bella watch him.

Her mouth dropped open when his cock finally sprang free. That was gratifying. It also put ideas in his head about what it would be like to be enveloped in her hot, wet mouth. He had to swallow a groan as her eyes traveled the length of him. Fuck, she didn't even need to touch him.

A lump had risen in his throat, a knot of desire and he found he couldn't speak around it. He rolled the condom on his cock, marveling at the look in her eyes that told him she thought he was beautiful.

Then, her eyes met his again, and the feeling that rose in him was so big, it consumed everything else. He'd known he'd loved her for a long time. Such a wretched, painful thing when he had to keep what he felt for her wrapped up tight and gagged into silence. Now, it was free. He was free to love her.

He pressed the head of his cock to her slick folds, holding his breath and savoring the moment. She was a vision, her hair spread haphazardly over his comforter and her eyes, so intense and trusting, on his. Her hand curled around his bicep, and he pushed inside her for the first time, exhaling in a gust because he'd never imagined anything could feel so good, so much like pieces he didn't even know were missing clicked into place.

Her back arched up off the bed, and she panted as he stretched her, filled her. They both moaned, stilling for a moment of completeness before they began to move together.

She brought her legs up, crossing them behind his back, taking him in deep. He pulled out and slid in, his rhythm picking up quickly because damn, hadn't this night been all foreplay? Hell, the last four years had been a study in prolonged desire. He wasn't going to last long.

But that was fine. They had time now. So much time, and he could prove his stamina later.

As his pace quickened to hard and fast, he ran his hands up her body. He squeezed her nipples between his fingers so she gasped and did that back-arch thing again. He liked that. Liked her low, wanton moan as she threw her head back on his bed.

He cupped her cheek, wanting too to show her all the tenderness he felt for her. There would be time for that too. Time to make sweet love to her, to take her with slow, unhurried movements while they were wrapped in each other's arms.

He'd had a lot of time to fantasize.

When he thrust in her particularly deep, she cried out. This time, when her back arched, she came up straight and hung on, wrapping her arms around him. Her lips came for his, attacking, and she gasped out his name in a raspy chant.

Holy hell, he'd never been creative enough to imagine exactly this. He splayed his hands over her back, holding onto her. There was nothing besides the feel of her, the heat of them together, the sound of the little noises she made at the back of her throat and the slap of their skin.

He kissed her with desperation as everything in him began to coil. He grunted into her mouth and moaned. His legs trembled, not with weakness but the power of the orgasm building in him. His knees buckled, and he fell forward with his arms braced on the mattress and his feet still on the floor. If anything, he only sank deeper in her. She drew her legs further up his back. Her fingers tangled and tugged at his hair.

When he came, it was with a prolonged, low guttural moan—the sound feral and thoroughly debauched. His hips jerked, totally out of his control, and his whole world went white, then black.

If not for the sound of her ragged pants near his ear, he'd have sworn he'd passed out. As it was, he thought his heart had skipped a few beats.

But he was very much alive. There was something so beautiful about the way they were connected. His drained, softening cock was still nestled safe inside her. Her thundering heartbeat pounded against his. Her super-heated, slick body felt so good up against the line of him.

Shit, he had to be squishing her. His body was so boneless, it was heavy even to him. He was lying face down on the comforter, his head next to hers.

With a groan, he rolled to the side. If he'd had any energy, he'd have laughed at the fact his hands trembled as he worked to slip the condom off. When he'd taken care of it he threw an arm over his eyes, smiling so broadly his cheeks ached.

There was a creak as Bella rolled toward him. Her soft, small hand came to rest over his chest, tracing the tattoo on his upper arm. "Was it good for you?" she asked, teasing.

He snorted and moved his arm up over his head so he could look at her. What a breathtaking sight. So this was what it looked like—what he'd wanted for four years. To see her like this, freshly fucked and satisfied, but with that tenderness in his eyes he'd so longed for. With his other hand, he smoothed her hair back and ran the back of his knuckles over her cheek. "Sweetheart, you have no idea."

Her answering smile was shy, and she ducked her head. "Good. I wondered… I wanted to be good for you."

It was understandable for her to be a little self-conscious about the difference in experience between them. He was too, though for much different reasons, he expected. But again, there was time to talk all that out.

He cupped his hand around the back of her head. "Come here," he murmured.

She came willingly and eagerly. He kissed her, sweet and slow. Together, they inched up the bed. When she shivered, their bodies cooled enough now so that the air on their bare skin chilled them, he pulled the edge of the comforter over them.

Worth the wait, he thought as he kissed her. Worth every agonizing moment.

A/N: Sooooooooooooooooooooo.