Hey guys,
I am so sorry for taking so long to update. Real life gets in the way, and I've been experiencing a few personal struggles. I honestly didn't mean to take so long to update! Hoping you will enjoy this chapter! It's been a long time coming lol... but hopefully it won't be too much of a disappointment!
I would really like to thank you all so much for your reviews, and notifications I've received. It makes me truly honored and I loved them all so much- so please keep them coming!
I would love to read your thoughts after this chappy lol. :-) See you next update!
Chapter Sixteen
Just like he said, he was already parked and waiting outside the school lot the minute the school bell rang out for end of class.
Unexpectedly, he was wearing a blue-rimmed baseball cap. He liked baseball? Well, I'll be damned, because I never knew. At first, I couldn't see his face, because the peak of the cap was down low, while his head was angled to the side, staring off at something near his car.
A few students from my grade and below stared as I made to approach him. Paranoidly, I got the idea in my head... they were criticising me over my weak behaviour. At how, practically by walking over to his car, it seemed that I was somehow letting him off on punching Michael so brutally at the party in front of everyone, when... it wasn't exactly that way at all.
Halfway through starting to cross the road to his car, Edward turned his head up into my direction and, at last, I could make out his eyes underneath the cap. His face looked a lot more pasty than I remembered, in such a severe way, that he almost looked ill. There was a small amount of light in those eyes for me.
He stared at me warily, running those eyes along my face, and fleetingly downwards over my body in my school uniform. I found then, that he was holding something bulky behind his back- keeping it a secret from me- and, a moment later, he brought it out from behind him, revealing a large bouquet of big stemmed white roses. It seemed him giving me roses as a gift, was becoming his thing. His own way to make up for things, apologize, whatever.
The flowers alone made my heart hammer like a wild thing in my chest and, his lips quirked up a bit when my eyes widened at them- like he was somehow aware of how flustered him buying flowers made me.
"Hey," I breathed out reluctantly, as I made to approach him.
"Hey yourself." He gave me a nervous smile. "How are you?"
"Okay. And yourself?"
"I've been better," he shrugged. "Bella." He was sighing out my name with raw emotion once I'd finally reached him. "These are for you, a miniscule start to my forgive-me operation." He held them out to me, and I accepted them carefully, averting my eyes. They were beautiful, sweet-smelling and fragrant. A nice addition to my bedside table once I got home. "Really, I hope that after all I have planned for you, it'll almost be enough for you to start forgiving me. I honestly can't handle a world where you're not in it."
The words he uttered alone took my breath away.
How does he possibly do it? Why was it so incredibly hard of me to stay annoyed with him, when he goes and buys me nice flowers, like this? I didn't want to give in so easily, but it was a little hard not to respond to the enarmoured look he was giving me.
"Are they enough?" His gentle tone was hopeful. "Do you find enjoyment in them?"
"Yes, they're lovely." I succeeded in keeping my voice vaguely light, and negligent. I didn't want him getting the assumption I'd be letting him off everything so easily.
"Anything, for you."
My stomach did somersaults at the fiercely earnest words and, when he reached over to cup my chin, he planted a swift, sweet kiss on my mouth. I moved my mouth away a fraction to stop anything from evolving. Maybe sensing I didn't quite want his kisses yet, he turned away quickly to open the door on my side for me. I was relieved he had finally, at long last, got the picture on how I needed space and time to think.
Space and time away from him to clear my head, especially.
"Have to hand it to the eighties," he grinned at me, once we were inside his car as the radio turned on. Then, he switched on the indicator, and eased the car carefully out of the parking space. "Usually, I'm not so much a fan of music as this. But this song, it's just... uncannily relatable." His mouth twitched slightly, and he reached across the console and placed his hand on my knee, squeezing gently. My breathing hitched in my throat along with the familiarity. The gesture was comforting somehow, and I found then, I had missed his hands on any part of my legs. "Have you heard it before?"
I flushed for some silly reason, as I listened in carefully, taking in the words the male was crooning in a somehow tinny voice. I couldn't fathom why Edward found it relatable.
You are an obsession, I cannot sleep. I am your possession, unopened at your feet. There is no balance, no equality, Be still, I will not accept defeat...
"No, I can't say I have," I breathed out, as it slowly got into the crashing chorus. Such a weird song. And, relatable, he said? How? What? Why?
But then, his soft voice broke me out of my humoured thoughts. "Could we go to my apartment first? There is something I want to show you."
"Sure," I agreed, without thinking.
Deep down inside, I think I knew what was impending. And, for some reason, I was somehow anticipating it, despite everything.
I wanted Edward to make me feel good again. I wanted us to somehow move past all the unpredictability of before. I wanted to be able to forgive him. But, most of all, I wanted to kiss him, touch him...
Love him again. Make him smile, laugh...
Because, I think, love is about forgiving someone- no matter how much they hurt you, or betrayed your trust.
Love is unconditional.
I wanted to get through all of this, because I felt I didn't quite feel ready to leave him, and get over him, yet.
Not until after we made love, anyway.
Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I entered through the front door of his apartment, and inspected the room.
Holy hell. Not only had Edward finally brought himself a large double bed, with luscious deep red curtain drapes, but there was a long trail of scattered white rose petals lining the hardwood floor to his bed. It was truly beautiful. I had no doubts whatsoever that he did it to impress me. Whoa. There are candles around every part of the room, making small shadows jump across the ceiling.
An instance later, I'm flushing. Does this mean what I think it means? Edward has finally brought himself a bed. No more small sofa, which left room to do... other things. Was this whole reason why he invited me back here? Did he want us to finally have sex? Because, I wasn't quite sure whether I still felt intense enough about him to actually do all that stuff.
"I really hope it isn't too much." His voice comes from right behind me softly. He sounded very... uncertain, and anxious. Maybe he was hoping for this, after all?
I turned to look at him. He had his baseball cap off, and finally I could truly see all of his eyes. He was staring at me anxiously, while I took everything different about his apartment in. The effects of our seperation were still there in his appearance; His eyes still looked bloodshot around the rims, and there were dark circles underneath his eyes, a bit like bruising.
"Well, it certainly makes the objective clear on why I'm here," I tried to joke, only my voice came out unbearably weak and uneven.
He caught the tone of hesitance in my voice; He tried to hide a smile, as he began over towards the bed.
I felt like my heart was going to explode any minute, when he crouched down to untie his shoelaces.
Oh my god. Were we really about to do this? I couldn't help panicking while observing him slide off his shoes. He kicked them over to the wall furthest from the bed, and turned to me, hands floating midair to the buttons on his shirt. Does he want me, in that bed, tonight? Right now? How was I even meant to know what to do while it happens? Do I just let him do it to me, put his thing inside of me while I just lay there underneath him, or do I-
"Can I get you anything?" he asked quietly, startling me from my mind's restless thoughts. His fingers were at work, unfastening the top buttons on the collar of his shirt. "I wasn't sure whether I ought to have brought you food, or not. Would you like a drink, perhaps? The tap works over by the sink. There's water."
Oh god. I couldn't even concentrate on what he was saying to me. Not when he was so close to taking off his shirt. Nothing else just would seem to register, not when his hands were slowly moving, undoing various buttons.
Oh all right. So maybe, I wasn't as unwilling as I thought.
I did want this man all to myself. I wanted him to make love to me. I was surprised that fact hadn't changed after what happened. After witnessing him beating the crap out of Michael Newton at the party. I should have felt sickened by him, told him to back off, break up with him, even... but, with my teenage hormones fizzing at the sight of him removing his shirt, it was a hopeless cause. I still wanted it, so so badly, even if I was inexperienced and felt totally anxious about what I was supposed to do.
All I knew, was that I wanted him in that moment. I wanted him, on that new bed he brought. I wanted him kissing me, I wanted his mouth on every part of me... just like the past few week hadn't ever happened at all for us. Mmmm. I want to feel his hands all over me again- him rubbing me with those long-fingered, cold hands.
I realized, a moment later, that I had just been standing there, staring at him unabashedly, while he loosened his collar around his neck and did other purely harmless things... things, that still were capable of wrecking a nervous havok on my heart.
I blinked heavily, at the new change in scenery. How did I manage to get so wrapped up in my thoughts that I missed everything else? Already, he was sitting on the bed, arms crossed over his chest, one socked foot on top of the other. He was just... staring at me. I felt like I wanted to die in that moment. What the hell is wrong with me?
This definitely calls for a bathroom break.
"Um, can I use your bathroom?" I murmured, embarrassed.
"You don't need my permission to use the bathroom, darling," he said, sliding off the bed, deep humour in his tone. "Here, I'll show you." I followed him over to a small narrow hallway. "It's the first door you come across."
"Great," I whispered, staring down at my fingers. I still couldn't quite look him in the eye. "Thank you. I'll only be a few minutes."
"Take your time. I'll just be on the bed."
I nodded, and entered. I was instantly relieved to find his bathroom empty. No rose petals or other romantic decorations in here. No, everything was thankfully plain and white tiles.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were completely flushed, my hair a little messy. I really needed to do some work. I turned on the cool water and dipped my hands underneath, I cupped water in them, and brought it up and over my oversensitive, blistering skin. I can do this, I told myself, People do this all the time. It's a natural thing.
But then, I was left feeling even more daunted by the sound that erupts out from in his bedroom area. Was that music? Did he have the stereo going? I flushed even more, when I realized what the song of his choice was; Elvis Presley's soft, melodic crooning to 'I Can't Help Falling In Love With You.'
Oh my god. My father listened to this when I was a little girl. Who knew Edward had my father's taste in classic music? Still, it was quite nice, the effort he was going through. Even if it was a little peculiar. It was sweet, because I knew then, he was truly going out of his way to make me feel comfortable.
Still, I need to make myself look better for him, I know it...
I tried to brush out my hair with my fingers, but it refused to sit flat. Maybe he had an actual comb or something that I could quickly use? Surely, he wouldn't mind, or even notice if I did borrow it quickly. So, I'm off, hunting through his bathroom cabinet. It's without success, though. All I found, was toothpaste, shaving gel... eyecontacts, toothbrush.
Eye contacts?
I snatched them out of the cabinet to inspect the packaging closely. Whoa, did Edward wear contacts? Well, I'll be darned. I never even knew. They are light blue colored disks. I supposed it wasn't that obvious that he needed to wear contacts, but I thought his eyes were pretty regardless. I stowed them back in, and rummaged around through his other contents. I let out a huff of air.
No hairbrush in sight, whatsoever. Damn it. Where else would he keep his hairbrush? I pummelled my fingers lightly against my lips, as I looked around. And then, it came to me.
"Uh-huh," I whispered to myself, "Sink drawers."
I started my hunt again, pulling out the first two top drawers. No luck, just some old flat copper coins that looked years and decades old. Second right drawers, I felt completely stunned by the contents inside of it.
Laid down carefully in the drawer, was a translucent plastic pouch filled with watery red liquid. Was that... blood? I poked gently into the middle of the pouch with my finger and, sure enough, the liquid sloshed and bubbled. Why would Edward have a pouch of blood in his bathroom drawer? I wondered, chewing into the sides of my mouth.
Then again... I always knew there was something quite different about him. The outcome of the fight between Michael and him- how he fared excellently, with no bruises or bleeding injuries whatsoever from Michael's hits. The hands- though he said it were simply due to Reynauld's Disease. The constant kissing on my neck... the way Edward seemed to want to be around me, every single hour of the day... Could Edward actually be-
"Bella?" There was a thwacking thump on the bathroom door. It scared me half to death, because it was so unexpected. My heart was thumping in my chest in alarm over the sound of his voice. Instantly, I felt guilty for snooping around in his bathroom. "Everything all right in there, darling?" He spoke gently through the wood.
"Yes, I'm fine." Gently, I closed his drawer shut, and turned towards the door.
Taking a deep breath, I wrenched it open to find he was standing right there, close to the door, arms folded against his chest. My heart raced in shock over everything. Did he know I was snooping around in his bathroom drawers? Did he know I saw the bag of blood contained in there? Oh, god. Would he be angry with me? God, I was already a quivering, guilt-striken mess, and he hadn't even accused me of snooping around his property yet.
"Are you feeling alright?" he asked, confusion in his voice. The way his voice was, like that, told me he was completely oblivious to what I just did in there. It sent an immediate wave of relief over me, yet I couldn't shake the nerves as I stepped down the hallway back into the main room of his apartment.
Elvis Presley still played from his stereo. It made me feel unbearably queasy about what we were about to do in here.
"Are we... are we going to do this?" I found myself asking foolishly, my voice small and hesitant.
"I... I hope so. I've been waiting very long for this, Bella Swan. To show you how much so that I love you."
He held a hand out to me, and I turned to look over at him, biting my lip, shy. His eyes are glisteningly bright, fervent... excited. I couldn't say I felt the same way, though. I felt like a quivering, restless, sweating mess.
Still, I found that small amount of courage to slip my hand through his. So suddenly, it sent me gasping through the beautiful music of Elvis, he pulled me into him, wrapped his arms around my waist, and lifted me up, up...like I was truly weightless in his arms. It was so unexpected, him hoisting me up into the air, that I let loose a small giggle. Afraid that he was going to drop me, I twined my arms around his neck and clung on for dear life.
I could feel the solid length of his body. One of his hands slowly ran up along the curvature of my back, pressing me closer against him, and then, I was feeling him running his long fingers through the back of my hair, through the tangles gently.
"You're so beautiful. Ever since the first moment I saw you in the rain, I knew." He smiled up at me, before leaning forward. Our foreheads pressed together; mine heated, his a direct contrast. "I am so in awe of you, you're so brave. Especially for tonight, and what we're about to do as one."
"What about it that makes me brave?" I whispered, shakily.
He didn't answer and soothe my mind's restless searching for answers into that question. Rather, instead, he shook his head, leaned down and kissed my lips gently.
"I love you so much," he murmured into my mouth.
I moaned my return, and started kissing him back. And then, slowly, he started carrying me along in his arms toward his big bed. My legs wrapped around his waist to prevent any kind of impending fall, but that really was unnecessary, when a moment later, he laid me down gently onto the soft mattress.
This is it. This is finally it. I was quaking like a new kitten over it. Finally, after all that horribleness that happened at the party, and with me ignoring him, we were finally going to look past that, and do it together, like we had intended.
I was just hoping he would go gentle on me. I was positive he knew it was my first time, anyhow.
He looked just as nervous as I felt, and I couldn't seem to take my eyes off him, as he undressed of his shirt. His eyes are on mine, while he shrugged out of his shirt, and my breathing went shallow, because he was so heart-stoppingly delicious. He folded his shirt, placed it neatly on the ground near his bed. He gave me a wide-smile, as he undid the button on his trousers, and flung them down over his knees.
Oh, all right. I swallowed dryly, as he crouched down and stepped out of them. My heart felt it were pumping full of hot blood and desire for him. When he removed all but his socks and underwear, he slowly eased down onto the bed over me. Already, I was panting hard, and we hadn't even started anything yet.
"I'm so relieved you've managed to forgive me. After what happened, I was so terrified you wouldn't want any more to do with me. Take off your shirt," he whispered, gently, and his hands went out to help.
He took gentle hold of the neck of my shirt, and murmured for me to hold my hands up into the air. I did, and then he was pulling it gently up and away from my body. And then, unnervingly, he leaned back to look at me, really, really look at me. In my bra, and jeans. At least the bra wasn't too ugly, or flesh-colored, I thought, in relief.
"So beautiful," he whispered, sounding surprisingly awed. "So warm."
My breath hitched in my throat, as he reached down and gently ran the back of his fingers over the side of my stomach. I shuddered and whimpered at his cold hands, I couldn't help it.
What he did next, had me staring down at him in confusion. I just didn't know what to do, or what to even say, when he bent down and started planting small feathery kisses over my belly button and navel. I felt the skin of my stomach ripple over the foreign sensations he was already making me experience, and I let loose a very breathy laugh.
"That tickles," I mumbled, breathlessly. I was very aware that my breathing was too-loud over the Elvis music, and that my eyes were having difficulty in staying open.
He panted out a trembling chuckle into my hipbone, nuzzling the tip of his ice-cold nose into my skin. His tongue ran around my bellybutton and, oh god, I was shivering so violently I didn't think I could ever stop.
I felt his hands reach up to undo the button on my jeans, and without hesitation, he pulled and tugged them down over my buttocks, along with my underwear. I shrieked a bit, unused to being so quickly exposed and vulnerable to him the way I so suddenly was. He looked down at me, and held my gaze, as he stepped quickly off the bed, and pulled my jeans free from my feet and ankles. Then, he let his hands run up and over the balls of my feet, and it had my toes curling something shocking.
I tried to cover myself up... there, with my hands, because I felt so awkwardly exposed and vulnerable the way I was, with just lying there, while he held my legs apart by the feet. Only, he didn't want that at all.
"Okay, ah," I groaned out in surprise, when he licked his lips and leaned down.
He pressed the tip of his nose into the side of my right leg, and up along my thigh. I swear I heard him sniff into my skin, but then I couldn't say I was really concerned whether or not he did, eitherway.
"You still smell so good," he groaned into my skin heatedly, until he went right near there. "I bet you still taste just as good, too," he whispered, bringing his eyes up to look at me, and oh god, there was both pure pleasure and animalistic hunger on his face.
I knew what he wanted then; To truly taste me...
"Crap," I groaned, convulsing uncontrollably as he started with his tongue. Next thing I knew, my hands were in his hair, and I was trembling like a volcano around him.
My skin was burning. I felt ready to explode any second.
The way he used his lips, his tongue, opened up a whole new hot wiring of nerves down there. And, he just seemed to want to be down there for ages, and never stop. It was totally disarming, yet sweet, sweet agony.
"Please," I begged, and I pulled and pulled, trying to get him to come up so I could kiss him. He didn't stop until a wave-like orgasm pulled through me, weakening me, sending me writhering.
Once he realized I had reached the conclusion of what he was doing to me, I think, he came up to kiss me, deeply. My breathing was still ragged, and I was still floating high, when he turned his face into my neck and started kissing me all over.
"Tell me you still love me," he panted desperately into my skin, and I moaned.
"I still love you, Edward," I breathed out unevenly. He paused from kissing me, brought his face over to peer me deeply in the eyes. His look was so tender, so gentle, I think it made me just about fall in love with him all over again.
"Tell me you want me, too," he whispered, his voice raw.
Closing my eyes, I leaned up and managed to smack a kiss onto his chest. I sunk back down and reopened them, "I do want you," I whispered, my voice aching for him, "I'll always want you, Edward. Always."
I think that did it, because he closed his eyes, groaned, and put his mouth onto mine again. His kiss was very heated, very passionate, unlike anything I had ever experienced with him ever before.
"Tell me," he pleaded, into my lips, "Tell me you're mine. Tell me!" It was a needy plea.
"Yours," I breathed weakly. I wrapped my arms over his shoulders, pressed my fingers gently into the hard, rigid flesh of his back, and held onto him tighter.
He grasped my chin in his hand and kissed me again, positively hard. I moaned, and he moaned also, like we're in sync. It was bizarre. I never knew anything could be quite like this. So intense, and intimate.
"Say it," he ordered again, softly. He paused his movements, his mouth an inch or so from mine, his breathing harsh over my lips. It was agonizing to be so close, and yet to not be able to kiss him back. "Again, say it again." He leaned back to look me in the eyes, his scorchingly intense and searching.
I blinked up at him momentarily, startled by his incessant pleading that I make the declaration that I'm his, over and over again. Doesn't he already know? Didn't I just already say it a few seconds ago?
"I'm yours, Edward," I whispered gently, nodding.
It seemed I was convincing enough, because this most amazing boyish smile overcame his face at my words, and he laughed quietly, beyond pleased.
"You really are mine, aren't you?" he murmured, voice alarmingly husky in satisfaction. Leaning down, he gently pressed a kiss into my forehead, and I breathed everything in to try and calm myself.
Everything was, sort of, all tickles and kisses. His small amount of chest hair would constantly tickle me, whenever he moved above me. And, I loved every part of it.
But, the part I was truly waiting for, had yet to come.