Author's Note:

Turning Pointe was Indie Fic Pimp's New Fic of the Week (9/12/11). A link to their review is on my profile.

I couldn't do this without my Beta's: Jennrosee and blahblahblah! I love them as much as commas hate me! (that's a lot)

Reminder:

this story is rated M for a reason ;)

Disclaimer:

S. Meyer owns Twilight. I own a life-size, fabric banner of Edward my sister gave me this week. Think steph would wanna trade?

Seriously, this chapter contains obvious quotes from the book(s), no plagiarism is intended.

BPOV

The next week continues much like the one before with one noticeable difference, the absence of what Emmett refers to as the "parental units." Esme left on her book tour, and Carlisle is working the night rotation at the hospital.

Their absence has little effect on my daily routine, though. I go to school and studio class. Afterwards, Jake and I go for a run and then practice at the studio until the janitors kick us out at night to clean. I return to the Cullen's house well after dark. Sometimes Jake comes home with me, and we continue with rehearsal. Sometimes he goes home, and I have the night to myself.

The first night after Esme left, I came home and found Emmett in the kitchen attempting to cook – something. It might have once resembled an omelet, before it was burnt to a crisp. I take pity on him and cook us both a huge meal of eggs, bacon, toast, fruit and hot chocolate. In return for "brinner," Emmett's term for breakfast for dinner, I got to pick what we watched on TV while we eat.

That becomes our routine every night. I come home from rehearsal, cook for Emmett and myself, and we eat together in the living room in front of the TV. On the nights Jake comes over, he and Emmett watch Sports Center while I make enough food to feed a small army. I don't mind cooking for them at all. In fact, I love that I'm able to do something nice for the both of them.

I love my overprotective, big-brother, Emmett. Outside of cooking his dinner, I never have to lift a finger, open a door, kill a bug, or carry anything over two pounds in his presence. I also notice my car is unusually spotless, inside and out, and the gas gauge never dips below the half-way mark before it miraculously returns to "Full."

And Jake – Jake is my other half. We probably spend more time together than most married couples do. He seems to know me better than I know myself. He has this uncanny ability to sense how I'm feeling without me even having to say anything. He is so selfless, giving his time to help train me, and make me the best possible dancer I can be.

So the small gesture of cooking dinner each night for my guys is something I take great pleasure in doing. After dinner, Emmett leaves for Rose's house, and I head up to my studio, with or without Jake, and rehearse a few more hours.

I never see Edward. Not once. I don't know if he is in the house or not. He and Emmett started school on Monday, so I figure he has to be leaving his room at some point. But he never comes down for breakfast or dinner. I never run into him in the hall upstairs or coming and going from the house. There are small signs though; a wet towel in the bathroom, an empty cereal bowl in the sink. At least I know he's alive.

I thought we started to make some progress last weekend. Well, maybe not progress, but he spoke to me in the kitchen that morning when I came back from my run with Jake. That was a big change from the silent treatment we had been giving each other since our dinner date with Esme and Carlisle. I guess that was just a fluke.

I really try not to think about Edward too much. I need to focus on my audition next week and not let whatever is going on with Edward get to me. But, as much as I hate to admit it, he is on my mind constantly. I want to stay angry with him because, well, it's just easier. But my fury quickly subsides, and I feel hurt and rejected all over again.

I try to keep my emotions hidden, but I'm sure Jake can sense something is bothering me. I try to play it off, pretending to be nervous about the upcoming audition, but he knows there is more to it. Thankfully, he doesn't ask.

On Thursday night, after the cleaning crew kicks us out of the school, Jake follows me home. We eat dinner with Emmett, and Jake keeps me in the studio until well after midnight. After five days of non-stop rehearsals, and feeling depressed and rejected by Edward, I'm emotionally and physically exhausted. So when I snap at Jake after he said my high kick wasn't high enough, again, we decide to call it a night.

I soak my aching muscles in a long, hot bath, change into my favorite sweatpants and t-shirt, and crawl into my bed around one in the morning.

It's hot.

I kick the covers off and try to cool down, my skin still overheated from the bath. I toss and turn for another few minutes before I give up. There is no way I can sleep when I'm this warm. I crawl out of bed and stalk to the balcony doors, open them wide, and let the cool night air flood my room.

I gasp. The view is breathtaking. I have never been on the balcony before. I take a few slow steps to the railing and lean against it, looking out toward the twinkling lights of the city. I close my eyes, take a deep, cleansing breath, and enjoy the feel of the breeze as it chills my overheated body.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

I jump, covering my mouth to stifle the scream threatening to escape. I twist my body in the direction of the voice. In the darkness I can make out a shadowy figure on the other side of the balcony.

"Jesus Christ, Edward! Why do you keep doing that to me? You scared the crap out of me!" I hiss.

"I'm sorry," he mutters. "I thought you knew I was here."

My eyes slowly adjust to the darkness and I can better make out his form, sitting in one of the long, padded deck chairs near his bedroom. I can easily see his bare feet, a stark white contrast to the dark denim of his jeans and dark grey t-shirt. He closes his eyes and lays his head back against the chair, his arms folded over his chest and his feet crossed at his ankles.

I take a deep breath and try to slow my racing heart as it pounds in my chest. "No, I didn't see you. I guess I assumed you were asleep… or out somewhere."

"Bella, it's a school night. Why would I be going out?"

OK, that's a good point.

I shrug, even though I know he can't see me. "I don't know. I haven't seen you all week. I guess I just assumed you weren't here… or something."

"Or something," he mumbles under his breath, so low I almost don't hear him.

We are both silent for several minutes, and I start to wonder if he's fallen asleep. He hasn't moved from his reclined position, his eyes still closed. It's eerily quiet; the only sound is a gentle breeze rustling through the trees. I sigh loudly and turn back to face the railing, looking out again at the city lights in the distance.

I guess we're not really back to speaking to each other after all.

I hear him jostle behind me and assume he's going back in his room now that our conversation is over. I feel my shoulders slump and a fresh wave of rejection wash over me. Why do I let him get to me like this?

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see him moving. He walks into my line of sight and stands against the railing a few feet down from me. He bends forward, places his arms on the railing, and leans his body against it. I continue to stare straight ahead, watching his movements from my peripheral vision. He intertwines his finger in front of him and takes a deep breath.

"When I was little," he begins, "I begged Carlisle and Esme to put in a pool. I wanted to be able to dive into it from up here so bad."

I smirk. Typical boy.

"I think that's why they put the hot tub way over there; they were afraid I'd still try it."

"You have a hot tub?" I blurt out.

"Yeah, you never noticed it? It's right over there." Edward moves to stand right next to me, pointing his finger across my body to the ground below. I can barely make out the dark square to the right of the first floor patio.

I nod, not trusting my voice at the moment. He's so close, again, and I can feel his arm lightly brush my shoulder as he indicates where the hot tub sits below us. My stomach flutters with the excitement and exhilaration of having him so close. I quickly shove that feeling away and replace it with the anger and resentment that have been building over the past few weeks.

"You can use it anytime you want," he continues. "It's always heated and ready to go."

I look away from where he's pointing, instead turning my entire body to face him directly. Now that he's so close, I can see him clearly. His bronze hair is sticking out in all directions as if he's been running his hand through it again and again. In this dim light, his emerald green eyes appear almost black, but even now, I can't escape their piercing stare. He looks tired, but even with the dark circles under his eyes, he is still the most beautiful man I have ever seen.

"What?" he asks as I stare him down.

I narrow my eyes at him. "So, are you speaking to me again? Because your mood swings are kind of giving me whiplash."

He looks surprised at my sudden accusation. He opens his mouth to speak but closes it again, his face becoming distressed. Clearly he wasn't expecting a confrontation tonight.

"Bella," he sighs. "I just… I…" He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. His words come out in a rush. "I thought it would be better if we weren't friends."

I nod and look down at my feet. Ouch.

"It's not that I don't want to be," he adds quickly.

Now I'm confused. "What does that even mean?"

"It means… if you were smart, you'd stay away from me."

"Well, let's say for argument sake that I'm not smart." I take an unconscious step closer to him. "Why can't we just, I don't know, hang out again or something?"

"You wanna hang out with me?" He seems surprised. "After… all this time?"

"Well, yeah, I mean, I still don't understand why we can't be friends. Or what I did to make you so angry with me but –"

"Bella," he cuts me off with a sigh. "You didn't do anything. I… I'm not angry with you."

"Then why?" I yell. "Why do you hate me? Why won't you talk to me?" The words rush out of me before I can edit the thoughts in my head, my voice a frantic pitch. "Why have you been going around acting like I don't exist?"

I feel my eyes fill with tears, all the hurt and rejection and anger and exhaustion of the last week spilling over. I close my eyes to keep the traitor tears in and turn my body away from him so he can't watch my irrational breakdown. I feel so stupid for crying in front of him, but I can't help it. I cry when I'm really angry.

"Please," he whispers, "please don't cry."

With one quick step he's closed the distance between us. His finger touches my chin as he guides my face back up to look at him. His other hand comes up to brush my cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear. We stand like that for a moment while he studies my face.

He seems to be wavering, torn by some internal dilemma. His eyes search mine, and I guess he is making the decision right now whether or not to simply tell me the truth. He must see how absorbed I am by him.

He must not want to lead me on… so we couldn't even be friends… because he isn't interested in me at all.

Edward takes a deep breath, and I can see the regret in his eyes. "You're right," he says. "I have been acting like an asshole. I'm sorry."

I nod slowly, and he drops his hands from my face. He still seems to be holding something back, and I wish he would just tell me - just get it over with.

"My behavior these last two weeks has been awful. I'm truly sorry for upsetting you, but it wasn't anything you did. I just… I…" he sighs and looks down at his feet, struggling with what he is trying to say.

He shakes his head slightly and looks up at me again. "Bella, I would like to be your friend again, very much. I wish I could go back and erase the last two weeks, more than you know, but all I can do is say I'm genuinely sorry for how I've been treating you."

Wow. That was not what I was expecting at all.

I study his face for a moment. I wasn't questioning the sincerity of his apology, but I can tell there is something else he isn't telling me.

"OK," I mumble, my voice raspy from my crying episode.

Edward smiles slightly. "OK," he repeats quietly, still examining my face like he's waiting on me to freak out again.

"Ugh! I hate this!" I press the heel of my hands to my eyes in an attempt to stop the tears. I'm so embarrassed for crying in front of him. "I'm sorry for freaking out on you. I didn't mean to yell. It's just, I cry when I get angry, and I'm just really stressed and I'm exhausted, and Jake has been keeping me up late, and I'm –"

I notice Edward tense slightly at the mention of Jake's name, and he takes a tiny step away from me. What was that?

I shake my head, having completely lost my train of thought. "I'm totally rambling now. Ugh, sorry."

Edward turns his body to face the distant city lights again and leans his arms against the railing. He intertwines his fingers in front of him and looks at his hands as he speaks. "You don't have to apologize to me. I deserved it."

The atmosphere between us is tense and awkward, and Edward continues to clench and unclench his fingers. I hate this. I start to wonder if we really can go back to being friends, or if it will stay this way. I rack my brain for a way to end this uncomfortable silence.

I turn to lean against the railing and mimic his position, looking out into the distance. "Where were you this week?" I ask softly.

"Here… and school, but mostly here."

"I didn't see you at all. I was starting to wonder if you were still alive."

I hear him chuckle quietly. "You must not have been too worried. You didn't come check on me."

I roll my eyes. "Oh sure, like I'm just going to knock on the door of the irate teenage boy down the hall who may or may not be annoyed with me and who may or may not bite my head off."

I'm teasing, of course, and glance at Edward, not surprised to find him glaring at me. I pretend to grimace. "Too soon?" I ask with mock concern.

His defiant stare slowly fades into a grin and he begins to laugh. There he is. There's my Edward. God, I missed him. I start to laugh too, out of sheer happiness at seeing him again.

"How is school going?" I ask when we finally compose ourselves.

"Eh, it's the first week so it's been pretty boring. Just going over syllabi and getting textbooks and stuff. I'm trying to transfer into A.P. Biology."

"That's cool. I took Biology last year, not A.P., of course."

Edward looks at me from over his shoulder. "How about you? You mentioned something about an audition the other day. What's it for?"

"A music video. The audition is next Wednesday. Jake and I are really going to be cramming in all the rehearsal time we can between now and then."

Edward looks at his hands again and nods. "That's cool, about the video I mean, not all the extra practice."

"I don't mind. Landing this job would be huge for my resume. And Jake is really great. I wouldn't have a chance at this audition if he wasn't training me. He truly has my best interests at heart."

There it is again, that subtle tension in Edward's posture when I mention Jake. He's never even met Jake, so what's with the little flinches? I consider asking him, but decide not to - for now. I just got my Edward back, and I don't want to start another fight. Not tonight.

We talk awhile longer about his school, my school, and Jazz and his new girlfriend. I tell Edward about Emmett's one failed attempt at cooking, and he laughs that beautiful laugh I had been missing. I avoid mentioning Jake again.

My back is starting to ache from leaning against the balcony, so I turn around and prop my elbows up on the railing and lean back. I can feel the cold metal through my shirt and a shiver runs down my spine.

Abruptly, Edward stands up straight and turns toward me. "You're freezing. We should probably go inside."

"I'm ok, but I guess it is getting late," I concede, but I don't want this conversation to end. I want to stay out here with my Edward and make up for the two weeks we missed.

"Yes, it is very, very late. Jacob probably won't be too happy about this… I mean… you know, you showing up for rehearsal sleep deprived with frostbite."

I laugh. "Probably not."

And just like that night at the restaurant, Edward places his hand on the center of my back and ushers me to my door. He pauses just outside my door and I turn to look at him one last time. He drops his hand from my back and runs it through his hair.

"Thank you, Bella," he says softly, "for giving me a second chance to be your friend. I really don't deserve it, and I'm so very sorry for the way I treated you these past two weeks."

"Edward, it's ok. I forgive you. I'm glad we're friends again. I -"

I bit my lip and decide to just say it. "I missed you."

He smiles. "Good night, Bella. Sleep well."

"Good night, Edward"

EPOV

I can't believe I made her cry; my actions hurt her that much. It's one thing that I'm miserable, but a wholly other thing for her to feel the same way. I want to come out and tell her everything: why I stayed away, why I treated her so badly, that I'm an idiot for not fixing it the minute I realized I was wrong, how badly I regret not kissing her that night after dinner.

But, I don't tell her any of that. If she knows I tried to use her as a pawn to win Carlisle over, she would hate me more than she did before. Besides, saying those things won't change anything now. I'm too late; she has someone else. All I can do now is tell her I'm sorry.

I'm still in shock that she forgave me even when I hardly explain why I had been acting like a complete asshole. And after all that, she still wants to be friends. I know I don't deserve it, her forgiveness or her friendship, but I'm ecstatic to have both.

I hope to see Bella again the next morning, but she's gone before I wake up, as usual. After school, I collapse on my bed, completely exhausted, and sleep for the rest of the afternoon. My late night conversation with Bella only allowed me five hours of sleep the night before. That means Bella got even less as she leaves for school an hour before I even get up.

My phone begins to buzz on the nightstand, waking me up. I glace at the clock. It's 6:12 p.m.. I answer my phone, not surprised to hear Jazz on the other end of the line. He wants to come over. It's Friday night, and he knows Esme is out of town and Carlisle is working nights at the hospital. No doubt he has every intention of raiding the liquor cabinet.

"Dude, you got any food around here?" Jazz calls out, the top half of his body buried in the refrigerator. I watch him hunt from my perch on the barstool. He's clearly a man on a mission.

"I dunno, Emmett probably ate all the leftovers before he went to Rose's for dinner." I reach for the stack of takeout menus Esme left on the counter and begin flipping through them.

"Figures… what an ass." He closes the fridge. "Well, you got any cash? We could order a piz - "

Jazz never finishes his sentence. Startled by his sudden halt, I look up at him. He's staring at something behind me, his mouth hanging wide open. I turn around in my seat toward the object he's fixated on.

Holy. Shit.

Bella flutters down the stairs wearing a skin tight, short, black dress. The gathered fabric starts at the middle of her thigh and hugs every beautiful curve of her body on the way up. The top of the dress is tied around her neck, leaving the creamy skin of her back, shoulders and arms exposed. The front is cut just low enough to show some glorious cleavage. Her curly hair is cascading down, framing her face. She has her phone in her hand, obviously texting someone as she makes her way slowly down the staircase. From her fingertips she's dangling a pair of black, strappy, fuck-me heels. She stops at the bottom step, gingerly slipping each shoe on and grasping the railing for support, her concentration still on her phone. It buzzes in her hand and she smiles.

She is stunning.

She is trouble.

Jasper lets out a whistle.

Nice, asshole. Real smooth.

"Hey there, hot stuff. Where are you off to tonight?" he drawls.

Bella looks up surprised. "Oh… hey. I didn't think anyone was home."

"Yup, it's just us guys. I'm Jasper, Jazz, by the way. Edward here seems to have forgotten his manners."

I roll my eyes. "Bella. Jasper. Jasper. Bella." I wave my hand between them, indicating who was who.

"Hi, it's nice to finally meet you." She makes her way into the kitchen, extending her hand for Jasper to shake.

He takes her hand gently, and instead of a shake, he presses his lips to her knuckles. "The pleasure's all mine, ma'am."

I'm on my feet and around the bar in an instant. Jasper releases Bella's hand, and she turns back in the direction she came, running straight into my chest. Even in those heels, I'm still taller than she is, and she looks up at me through her dark lashes. I don't even attempt to move away.

"Where are you going?" I ask, my voice more of a growl than I intend.

Bella takes a step back, clearly confused by my possessive behavior and hostile attitude. "Um, I… I'm going out with Jake."

"I thought you were going to rehearse tonight."

She furrows her brow. "Um, no. Jake says we've been working too hard and it was time we had a little fun."

Time to have a little fun.

The phrase instantly conjures up images of Jacob and Bella having their "fun" in the studio upstairs the night I saw them put their ass into it.A knock at the front door pulls me from my flashback.

"Well, that's my date. Gotta run. It was nice meeting you Jasper. You boys have a nice evening."

Bella looks directly at me, her expression pure venom. "Don't wait up."

She shoves me out of her way and walks out of the room. I don't move an inch, my hands clinched into fists at my side, anger and jealously seething from every pore of my body.

I hear the front door open and Jacob's deep voice greet her. "Whoa, babe, you look amazing! I'm gonna have to try really hard to keep my hands to myself tonight."

If he lays one finger on her — if he returns her to me in less than the perfect condition she left in, that mongrel will be dancing on one leg!

"You better behave, or I'll sic Emmett on you." Bella giggles. "Come on. Let's go." The door slams behind them.

"Dude, what the fuck was that?" Jasper asks exasperated. I've completely forgotten he was here. "You look like you're about to put your fist through the wall."

"It's nothing. Forget it." I grumble.

"Yeah right, that wasn't fucking nothing. What the fuck is up with you and the Barbie Ballerina there?" He nods his head toward the front door.

"I said forget it, Jazz!"

"Ah, I see… you like her," he says calmly.

"What? Are you fucking crazy? She just lives here. That's all."

"Riiiiiiight," Jaspers tone is disbelieving. "Come on big boy, I think it's time for you to get good and drunk."

I can't argue with him there.

~o0o~

Jazz leaves around 2:30 in the morning. I try to get him to crash on the couch, but he says no and stumbles down the street to his house. Luckily, he only lives a few blocks away as neither of us are in any condition to drive. Over the course of the night, we polished off an entire bottle of Jack Daniels between the two of us.

Bella isn't home yet and now I'm alone in the house, pacing between the kitchen and the living room with only my drunken buzz and irrational thoughts to keep me company.

At first, I started drinking because I was angry at myself; angry at myself for making her cry last night, angry at myself for snarling at her before she left on her damn date; angry for fucking up again just as we are making a new start.

As the night goes on, my irrational, drunk, irritation turns on her.

How could she do this to me?

How could she be with him?

Doesn't she know what I feel for her?

No, she doesn't.

Until last night, I have never given her any indication I feel anything but aversion for her. A pang of guilt washes over me then. I hate that logical moment of clarity - I have another drink to kill it.

Then my anger begins to morph into regret.

Why didn't I tell her everything last night when I had the chance?

Would she ever forgive me if she knew the truth?

Would she understand why I did what I did?

Do I even understand it?

I pace back to the kitchen and check the clock, again. 3:08 a.m.. Where is she? All the bars closed an hour ago. What could she possibly be doing at this hour of the - oh God! Her… with him.

My hands are instantly in my hair. I would gladly pull it out by the roots if it would make the images swirling in my brain go away. I lean back against the counter using every ounce of strength to hold me up and not slump onto the floor.

I hear keys rattle in the lock.

My heart thumps in my chest. She's home!

The front door opens and closes quietly. I listen, excitedly, as her soft footsteps pad to the kitchen – toward me. She rounds the corner and looks directly at me as I'm still leaning against the counter. Her shoes are once again swinging from her hand, but now her hair is twirled up into a messy knot, one tan chopstick holding it in place.

"Geez, Edward, and here I am trying to be all kinds of tip toes and quite so I don't wake you, but clearly you never, ever sleep ever." Bella stumbles forward to the refrigerator and retrieves a bottle of water.

I smirk. She's drunk. It's adorable. But then again, so am I – drunk, not adorable.

"Did you have a nice time with Jacob?" I try not to slur, but I don't think I'm successful.

She takes a swig of her water, looking at me with wide eyes. "Yes I did. Did you have a nice time with Jasper? Jazz. Jazzzz-pur." I can't help but laugh at her. She's completely hammered.

"Yes," I respond. "Where did you and Jacob go tonight?"

"To dinner. Chinese." She twists her body around and points to her new hair accessory. "And then to some club to go dancing with his boys. It was fun. We don't usually get to cut loose like that in rehearsals."

Really, and 'putting your ass into it' isn't cutting loose?

Thank God my filter is still somewhat intact,"I see" is all that comes out of my mouth.

"And, what about you? What did you and Jasper do all evening? Braid each other's hair? Mani-pedis? I assume he went home and it's not a sleep over, right?" She teases, looking around me for signs that Jasper is still here.

"Ha, ha, very funny, Bella," I deadpan. "We had a few drinks and worked on some of Jazz's songs. Jazz seems to write the best stuff when he's hammered."

She giggles. "Just a few drinks, huh? Mr. Cullen, I believe you," she points her water bottle at me, "are also hammered."

"Takes one to know one."

"I am not drunk." She slurs and walks toward me.

I can't help but rake my eyes over her beautiful legs. She's walking on her tiptoes, her shoes abandoned on the kitchen floor long ago. She comes to stand right next to me, mimicking my position, leaning her back on the counter. She places both hands on the surface and hoists herself up so she's sitting on the countertop, her legs dangling over the edge. The movement brings her closer to me, her knee only inches from where my arm is resting against the granite surface. I twist by body and lean on my elbow to face her. Her seated position now makes her head higher than mine, and I have to look up to see her.

"I dunno, Miss Swan, you seem to be a bit tipsy there on your little tip-toes," I playfully accuse.

"Tipsy, yeah, maybe, but I – hey! My toes aren't that little." She extends one leg, pointing and flexing her feet, examining them.

"It's ok, they match your little fingers," I tease, looking down at her right hand resting on the counter.

Mindlessly, I take my finger and begin tracing slow circles over her knuckles, then up and down each of her fingers one at a time. Her skin is so creamy white, flawless. I flip my hand over and begin slowly running the back of my fingers up her forearm toward her elbow. I marvel at how soft her skin feels to my touch, her pale flesh the color of snow. I run my hand over a small faded scar right below her elbow and my inebriated mind starts to wander. It looks like a minor injury that occurred years ago. Still, I wonder what could have happened, and if it hurt.

I suddenly realize Bella is silent and I look up. She's watching my hand trace its path on her arm. I snap back to reality and recoil my hand, worried I've overstepped some boundary.

"Sorry," I mutter.

"Don't stop," she whispers. Her eyes flash from her arm to mine.

It's that moment, just like the night in the parking lot. The overwhelming desire to kiss her, to wrap my arms around her, to claim her, to steal her back from him, hits me like a wrecking ball. I know I shouldn't; she's drunk, I'm drunk, she has a boyfriend. A catalog of reasons screams in my head to back away, but the physical desire is overpowering any rational thought in my brain. I unconsciously, slowly lean toward her.

"Edward," she murmurs, and her eyes flutter closed. I freeze, bracing myself for the rejection I know is coming. She's going to tell me to stop, that she's drunk, that I'm drunk, that she has a boyfriend...

"Kiss me," she whispers.

It only takes a fraction of a second for my brain to process what she just said, and I don't hesitate. I close the distance between us slowly, gently brushing my lips against hers once. My hand grazes her cheek and tangles in her hair as my lips move against hers a second time. I continue to kiss her, softly, slowly, gently, cherishing every touch of her mouth against mine.

Bella's hand comes to rest against my chest, her palm flat against my pounding heart. I fear any moment she's going to push me away, but instead she's grabs my shirt tightly in her fist and pulls me to her.

I twist my body so I'm standing in front of her. Bella opens her legs and my hips slide between her knees. She releases my shirt and winds her fingers behind my neck into my hair, pulling my mouth deeper into hers. Our kisses become more eager, more passionate with each moment. I feel her wrap her legs behind my back, trapping my body against hers.

Desperate for air, I lean down and begin kissing along her jaw, tracing a line down her neck and back up the other side. Bella moans and continues to run her hands roughly through my hair. I slowly slide my hands up her thighs, finding the hem of her short dress and push it higher up her legs. My hands continue to travel to her hips and slide her forward, her thighs meeting the rock hard bulge in the front of my pants. Bella gasps at the sudden movement and tugs at my hair, pulling my face back up to her mouth again.

I feel her tongue brush softly against my bottom lip and I open my mouth, our tongues frantically exploring each others. She tastes salty and sweet all at the same time.

Our pace is frenzied now. Our hands are everywhere. I can't get enough of her; her body, her mouth, her hands, her hair. I'm overwhelmed by her scent, the way she tastes, the feel of her soft skin. I want to touch every part of her, devour her. I'm like an addict getting a fix of my own personal brand of heroin. And I should know; I've been an addict.

Bella lowers her hands from my hair, running them down my chest and to the hem of my t-shirt. Her feather-light fingers reach underneath and gently touch my stomach above the waist of my jeans.

I hiss. "Your hands are freezing," I mumble against her lips. I can feel her smile against my mouth, and I kiss her again.

Undeterred, she runs her hands up my chest, pulling my shirt up as she travels higher. Her touch feels so good on my skin. If my eyes weren't closed, I'm sure they would roll back in my head.

I raise one arm behind my head, grab a fist full of my shirt from between my shoulder blades, and swiftly pull it up over my head. Bella eagerly helps remove it, grasping the bottom and pulling it free from my arms. I only break contact with her for a second, my mouth finding hers again the instant I'm released from my shirt.

Her hands are on me immediately, running down my naked chest, around my waist and up my back. She pulls my body against hers as if she's desperate to get closer. I involuntarily rock my hips against her, and her fingernails dig into my back. I groan and drop my face to her neck, kissing and licking down the exposed skin of her shoulder.

I allow my hand to slowly wander from her hair to the back of her neck. The top of her dress is tied into a small bow at the base of her neck. From past experience, I know all I have to do is untie the knot to free her from her clothing. Judging by the low cut of her dress, I know there won't be another barrier between us if I do. So I pause, twirling the ends of the tie in my fingers, giving her a chance to stop me.

She doesn't protest, instead she grips my shoulder blades tighter and moans as I continue to kiss a trail along her collarbone. I grip one end of the tie, pulling slowly, and the loops of the bow collapse, leaving a tight knot and two long strips of fabric dangling down her back. I run one finger under the knot and begin to pull against the tight bond.

THUD!

We both freeze, startled by the sound. What the fuck was that?

The front door swings open violently and slams into the wall behind it. Emmett pushes Rosalie against the door, frantically kissing her. He grabs her leg and hitches it over his hip. They are about to go at it right there in the foyer. I look down at Bella, her hand covering her mouth, trying to stifle a giggle.

"Shhh," I whisper, one finger over my mouth as I also try not to laugh out loud. We haven't moved from our position, Bella still sitting on the counter with her legs wrapped securely around my waist, one hand still holding me tight.

Emmett and Rose start to move toward the living room, Emmett kicking the front door closed with his foot. Neither of them break away from their heated kissing.

Not wanting to be caught by my brother in this compromising position, I wrap my hands around Bella's waist, lift her from the counter and lower her quietly to the ground in front of me. I grab my shirt from the floor and use my body to gently guide Bella to the shadows of the dark hallway, the opposite direction Emmett and Rose are headed. We move slowly, careful to stay out of their line of sight.

Finally, they make it to the door which leads down to Emmett's room. They fumble noisily down the stairs and disappear, slamming yet another door behind them. I look down at Bella who is now pinned between my body and the wall. We both burst into laughter.

"That was close," Bella says when we finally compose ourselves.

"Yeah, that could have been awkward." I agree.

We are both silent again. The fervent mood from before has dissipated with Emmett's ill-timed arrival. Remind me to kill him later.

I look down at Bella and realize Emmett has done me a great service by interrupting us. Bella deserves so much more than drunken grab-ass on the kitchen counter. I want to take my time with her, to do this right.

I shove my arms into my shirt and pull it back on. When my head emerges from the fabric, Bella is grinning up at me.

"Your shirt is inside out," she says quietly. "And your hair is a mess." She reaches up and begins to run her fingers through my apparently disheveled hair. I close my eyes and enjoy the feeling of her fingers combing against my scalp.

I open my eyes again and look down at the gorgeous girl before me. I sigh. Those beautiful brown eyes. I love her eyes.

I place my hands on each side of her face and bring my lips to hers again. This time the kiss is pure, innocent. I try to pour all my emotions, even the ones I don't fully understand yet, into the kiss, hoping to silently convey my feelings for her in this one moment.

"Good night, beautiful," I whisper when I finally pull away.

She keeps her eyes closed a second longer, leaning her face into the hand caressing her cheek. "Good night, Edward."

I take her hand in mine and lead her out of the kitchen to the staircase. We slowly climb the stairs, hand in hand, and walk silently down the short hall. I pause at her door and bring our intertwined hands up, gently kissing hers before letting go and walking the remaining distance to my room, alone.

Author's Note:

Tweet Me! www[dot]twitter[dot]com/Viridian6