Kleenex warning.

. . .

I wake up some time during the night to feel Edward's fingers slowly tracing down my stomach, my hip, my thigh. And then his fingers move to cup me down there while his finger slides just inside to caress me.

"Are you sore?"

He's naked and hard against my bum, and feeling him want me lights an inferno inside.

"No," I say and it's the truth.

I'm hot and itchy and wet, and his fingers feel so good that I lift my leg and hook it over the outside of his to give him more room. His breath is hot and uneven against my shoulder, and his cheek is bristly against my neck. We both moan as he pushes his fingers deeper, dragging them against my smooth wetness again and again until tremors are running through my body.

"Am I doing it right?"

The sensual sound of his voice against my ear nearly pushes me over the edge.

I move my hand down with his and move his thumb to my clit, showing him the last push I need, oh god, to send me shaking from the inside out. He gasps and moans with me as my body convulses around his fingers. It hits slowly at first, then builds stronger and stronger until I think I might die. It's so good, so good.

"I want you again," he says and rolls me onto my back. "I want you to do that with me inside you."

He pushes inside me and the look in his eyes is like he's pushing inside there, too, and a wave of sensation and love sweeps through my chest and downwards. It's incredible, almost terrifying in its power, but he's with me, loving me through every breath. His hair is falling into his eyes, so I brush it off his forehead and he kisses the inside of my wrist.

"Edward, please," I breathe and arch into his hands, his body. He's not close enough.

"I love you, I love you," he breathes back with each stroke. I'm tight and full and tingling. The feeling is building again, growing stronger each time he hits that place deep inside, and I almost can't stand it. It's new, different, and makes my head thrash on my pillow, makes my grip against him hard enough to hurt.

"Look at you," he groans. "So beautiful, so perfect."

His face and chest are pink-tinged, his gaze intense, yet drunk, and I take it all in like a dream come to life. He's the beautiful one.

His mouth against mine is hot and wet and I'm spiraling out of control, so I bite him because it's almost too much. He bites me back and falls completely against me, and his thrusts get choppy, sharper. I raise my legs so he continues to hit that deep place inside, and he hooks his elbows around the underside of my knees.

"Edwarrrrrrrrd," I moan-scream as a tidal wave of sensation hits me and everything goes molten and my body begins to shudder from the inside out.

He backs away to watch me to come apart, moaning with me. "Bella, oh god, I love you."

I'm still shaking and quaking as he begins to jerk against me, inside me, and then his teeth are on my shoulder.

"Look at me, Edward," I gasp, and he throws his head back before his eyes meet mine and they're a storm come to life, and I know I'll never see anything more beautiful or stirring as Edward coming undone in my arms. I never knew it would mean so much.

. . .

We're insatiable after that. We can't keep our hands off of each other, or our clothes on. My head spins at how just a look from him can fire my blood and get me wet, make me crazy to feel him. We take turns attacking each other, consuming each other all over the apartment, and once in my truck. We shower together, cook together, study together, sleep together. When we wake up, we're always entwined like we fell asleep during the middle of playing.

College courses are hard, as is trying to get up in the mornings when all I really want to do is stay in bed with the boy I love more than life itself.

We text throughout the day, talk during lunch, and refuse all offers to go out. We don't interact much with classmates and rarely have study groups outside of home. Our apartment is our haven and I couldn't be happier or more in love. We're so close and into each other that it's not long before we're quibbling. And then … we play-fight just so we can make up.

"You left toast crumbs in the butter," he says to me one morning over our kitchen table. He pushes the tub over to me, and I see that I did leave a little something extra in there.

"Oops," I say and raise a finger to my mouth and slowly lick it.

His eyes catch fire immediately, and I see his jaw clench. Sexy.

"You did it on purpose," he growls.

I resist the urge to grin and wink at him because I'm Naughty Bella right now. Of course I did it on purpose.

"I was in hurry," I say.

"Dammit, Bella, you know that's one of my pet peeves."

I do. I do.

"I'm sorry," I whisper and pick up my butter knife. I make a show of scooping away the toast crumbs, then run my tongue along the knife to lick it clean.

His eyes close as if he's in pain and he says something under his breath. And then he's up and coming at me fast. I yelp in surprise and excitement as he hauls me out of my chair, then pushes me chest-first across the table.

"Ahhh," I say as he swats my butt twice in succession.

"You asked for it," he growls.

I giggle. "Harder."

"Stand up," he commands. "Pull your pants down."

I do as he says, but it's more of a slow shimmy as I work my jeans and underwear past my hips and down my thighs. When I lean back across the table, I've already got goose bumps and he hasn't even touched me yet.

The next smack stings my skin and I gasp in surprise. That was hard.

His palm lightly caresses my stinging right buttock, and then the next smack warms the left side.

"You are so sexy," he growls. "So bad. And obviously, you want to be punished."

I sigh and moan. I do. I love it so much when he gets this way, all commanding and possessive and rough, as if I drive him crazy.

I hear his belt buckle clang and the sound of a zipper being dragged open slowly. He yanks my pants the rest of the way down, then lifts one of my ankles free. His feet move mine far apart and I feel him hard and hot against me.

"This won't be gentle," he warns just seconds before he enters me forcefully enough to lift my heels off the floor.

Oh god. So good.

And it's probably the tenth time we've christened the table, but it's always the best time yet as he loses control all over me, inside me.

We're so good together.

So perfect.

My heart is on fire.

. . .

On Saturday mornings, we bike around the Notre Dame campus. If it's warm enough, we take a blanket and a picnic lunch and study on the grass by the St. Marys Lake.

The first few times we went, we didn't get much studying done because we were too drunk on our new relationship status. Every time I'd lift my head from the book I was reading, he was looking at me. Because Edward liked to be close enough to touch when we were together, I usually ended up in his lap to do my reading. From there, our study sessions deteriorated into kissing, which was simultaneously freeing and frustrating.

We didn't have to work, outside of our school work, because Dad paid for the rent out of Mom's life insurance money. However, he made it clear that he wasn't going to pay for groceries, gas or car insurance, so we both found part time jobs. Edward served lattes, macchiatos and cappuccinos at a Starbucks on campus, and I bussed at a small restaurant not far from our apartment.

I was happy most of the time, except for the moments of darkness when I wondered how it would end, because I knew it would. Every time our doorbell rang, I was half afraid I'd find a stone-faced Emmett or Dad on the other side. Edward was my life, just as I was his, and I was terrified of the cost.

Edward told me I couldn't live that way, though, and I tried to push the thoughts away as soon as they came. Worry wouldn't stop what was to come, and punishing myself was a one-way ticket to shattering everything I was working for. I couldn't do that to myself, and I wouldn't do it to Edward. We had to make every moment count and damn the consequences.

Part of the consequence of being free to love someone I shouldn't have meant that when I was back in Fort Wayne, my wings felt doubly clipped. Both Edward and I had to guard our every move when we were home for the holidays. More than once, I'd caught myself leaning over to him for a quick kiss at an inopportune moment, or reaching for his hand. Even the look on my face could so easily be seen as something too much.

It was torture not being able to touch him like I had been freely able to just a week before. It made me feel like the worst kind of liar, a sinner, a cheat. I wanted to the world to know I was in love, that I loved Edward, that he loved me. Trying to hide it was like denouncing my own heart. It was almost impossible. It made my chest burn. It made Edward's eyes dull and ache with sadness.

Dad was happy to see us, and it was evident by how he acted when others were around that he was proud of his two college kids. That made my heart ache, too. I hated keeping something so momentous from him, but it was better that my heart hurt than his.

Teresa watched us with eagle eyes and pursed lips when she was around. Under her gaze, I felt graceless and guilty and it took everything inside me to hide it.

She's another waiting game with a gray ending.

"Doesn't she ever spend time with her dad?" Edward wonders.

Sue's ex-husband had a new family now, though, and so Teresa was second to that. And while that was sad, it meant that she spent more time with my dad, and that he had come to love her like one of his own.

Through Alice, we made dinner plans with her and Jasper, and Emmett and Rose. At the last moment, though, Rose bailed because she wasn't feeling well.

"Stomach," Emmett tells us. "She's been acting really off lately, too."

Only Jasper, Edward and I knew the real reason, and our eyes meet briefly.

Jasper had tried to talk to her about us, but it had ended badly; they were no longer friends, either.

Alice looks at us with questions in her eyes. "Something's going on. I can sense it, and it's not good. Rose hasn't spoken of either of you in a long time."

"I guess we've just grown apart," I say weakly and shrug.

She sighs unhappily and looks at Emmett. "Find out what's going on with her, Em. This has got to stop."

Two days before Valentine's Day, it does.

Emmett is outside our door crying.

He won't come in.

"Is it true?" he asks.

Edward grabs my hand and pulls me behind him, as if he's afraid Emmett will hurt me.

"Yes," he says simply.

Emmett, who looks as if he's spent the whole night sleepless, looks at us with horror and tears in his eyes. His head shakes back and forth as if he just can't believe it. Pretty soon, he's just a blur in my eyes.

My fingers tighten around Edward's. I don't want him to forget that I'm here as we lose another part of our past.

"How? Why?" Emmett chokes.

Edward's silent, and then, "Does it matter?"

Emmett's hand raises to scrub at his face, and Edward's fingers briefly tighten on my own.

"No," Emmett says and he's calm, so calm. "No, it doesn't matter."

And he turns and walks away.

Just like that.

Edward's the one who cries in my arms that night. My heart is full of anger, hollow with hurt, but I hold him tight, so tight.

We don't hear from Alice. She doesn't call, she sends a note.

I dreamed about this, but I thought it was just a dream.
I'm sorry, I guess should have warned you.
Maybe it would have helped you to stop.
Jasper says I should forgive and forget.
I can't, though. I HAVE a brother. I can't forget.

Goodbye.

. . .

Edward is my strength that gets me through it all, just as I am his.

. . .

The months pass and Edward and I grow as close as we've ever been. We finish each other's sentences, we know each other's bodies better than our own, and our daily routines are like seamless clockwork. He is my comfort, my everything, my soul mate.

In the spring, we decide that we're not moving back to Fort Wayne, so we call Dad and tell him we've decided to stay at the apartment during the summer. Dad balks at this, but we cajole and joke with him until he's grudgingly giving in to us.

"I didn't expect to lose my kids this soon," he tells us.

"Oh, Daddy, you're not losing us," I cry. "We'll be home, just not like we used to be. We've got this great apartment that we don't want to lose, thanks to our dad, and jobs we can count on. It'll make next year smoother."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. I don't have to like it, though."

He sounds like me.

No, I sound like him.

In August, when we're home for a family bar-b-que, Dad and Sue tell us that they're getting married. They want a New Year's wedding.

"There's no way I can forget that kind of anniversary," Dad says and he's winking at Sue. She elbows him playfully, and they're so perfect together that my heart wants to burst for them.

I throw my arms around him. Then around Sue. Then around them both. I'm so happy for him.

"Congrats, Dad," Edward says and he and Dad do the one-arm back slap and hug.

Sue wants to know if I'll be a bridesmaid.

"Of course," I tell her.

"I want you to feel like you're a part of this," she says.

"I do," I tell her. And we laugh at my unintended pun.

"So I guess we'll be sisters," Teresa tells me, but no one but me sees her shudder. She's wearing thick, black eyeliner and her eyes are garish and hard. I can't believe Sue lets her wear that crap.

"That's right," I say, and I want to shudder myself.

Behind her, Edward crosses his pretty green eyes at me.

. . .

I've just gotten home from my last class of the day when my phone rings. Instead of digging it out of my bag, which I drop on the floor beside the door, I run to Edward on the couch and jump into his lap. His arms encircle me hard and we kiss like we haven't seen each other all day. Which we haven't, so we have to make up for lost time.

"I missed you, babe," he breaths against my mouth.

"I missed you more," I say and straddle him to tug my t-shirt off. I'm sitting there half-naked on his lap when the phone rings again, only this time it's his phone. And it's right behind me on the coffee table.

"Crap, it's probably Dad," he says and tries to shift me to the side, but I lean backwards like an acrobat and grab it mid-ring.

"'Lo?"

"Bella."

It's Sue. She's crying and can barely talk.

I straighten up immediately and lock gazes with Edward. His fingers on my hips tighten.

"What's wrong?" I ask her.

"It's … C-Ch-Charlie. You have to come home. B-Both of you. Now."

My heart's about to pound out of my chest. "Is Dad okay?"

She's openly sobbing now. "Just … just come home, Bella. And please, drive safely."

"Sue!"

But she's gone. I try to call her back, but her phone goes directly to voice mail.

"Bella? What's wrong with Dad?" Edward wants to know. His face is as white as mine.

"I don't know. Oh, God, she wouldn't say!"

Fearing the worst, we throw clothing into duffle bags and drive to Fort Wayne. Along the way, I try to call Sue again, and failing to get ahold of her, try Dad at work. One of his deputies answers.

"Mark," I say. "This is Bella Swan. I'm looking for my dad. Is he there?"

There's an inordinately long pause, during which all the moisture is searing from my mouth.

"Didn't you hear?" Mark all but whispers.

"Sue told me to come home. She wouldn't tell me anything else. What is it, Mark? What's wrong with my dad?"

"I-I-I can't," he stammers. "It's best that you hear it from Sue."

"Dammit, I want to know now," I yell.

"Where are you?" he asks.

"We're on I-90," I snap. "We're on our way. Now tell me! Tell me, please."

"Get here safely," he says and hangs up on me.

I growl and look at Edward with angry tears in my eyes. Right now I'm fearing the worst—heart attack, mugging, maybe he got shot and is in the hospital.

"They won't tell us anything," I say.

Edward is deathly silent. I touch his arm and slide my hand into his.

When we pull up to my house, there's a cop car in the driveway. It's not Dad's SUV. Leaving our bags in the truck, Edward and I rush inside.

Sue's best friends Elaine and Roxy are with her while she sits on the couch, looking like death warmed over. A cop I've never met is in the recliner across from the couch—in Dad's chair.

"Sue?"

She pushes herself up from the couch, staggering a little, and then she has me and Edward in her arms.

"He's gone. Bella. Edward. He's gone."

Gone?

"Gone where?" I whisper as Edward's arm encircles me below Sue's.

"He was shot," one of Sue's friends says behind us.

The cop takes over. "Charlie was on his way home when he called in a routine traffic stop for a busted taillight. Turns out it was Randy McClure in a stolen car, a guy wanted for assault and battery over in Angola. He had a loaded gun."

A sob tears from my throat.

"No," I say.

"I'm sorry, Miss—"

"No!" I scream and tear away from Sue and Edward to confront this-this-this liar.

His gut is bulging, and his nose is red, and his glasses are ugly. He's probably not even a real cop. I hate him.

"You don't know anything," I tell him. "My Dad stops people for busted taillights all the time. It's nothing. He does it all. The. Time!"

The man nods, then looks helplessly behind me at Edward.

And I know he's gone. My Daddy is gone.

"No. No. No!"

Edward's arms encircle me. I feel him shaking and crying as I scream and scream until I can't anymore.

. . .

Sorry for the delay. I didn't want to write this one.