Thank you to PainJane and Adt216. How you ladies aren't sick of me yet, is shocking and humbling!
To all the reviewers and lurkers – I love you! Thanks for everything!
Just a reminder: I don't own any of these characters. I simply like to play with them a little.
CHAPTER SIX
-The Practice-
"Very well then," Edward announces, stands up and drops down next to me on the couch, turning his body to face mine. I reluctantly turn towards him, and look into his eyes. He is sitting a lot closer than I expected, and I gasp in surprise. His eyes once again crinkle in concealed laughter, and I drop my eyes to his lips…which he is licking…slowly. It is at this precise moment that I realize that I…am…completely…screwed.
I swallow thickly. What was I thinking? I fight to remove my eyes from his bottom lip, which is slightly moist from his incessant licking. It's a nice looking lip. I have no idea where else to look; he's sitting so close. I lower my eyes and notice that my hands are twisting in the hem of my shirt.
Oh, just get it together, Bella. I'm acting like a virginal school girl. This will certainly not be the first time I've ever been kissed, although it will be the first time in a very long while since I've been kissed by anyone other than Alice's husband, and my father. It's a business deal, for crying out loud, and it's not like there is anything romantic about this specific scenario. I have to admit that I never had to hone my kissing abilities to close a deal – not like Jessica, I presume – but it's not like this is going to be some gross groping fest…it will be chaste kisses on the cheek and mouth, almost like kissing a family member.
I raise my head determinedly, straighten my shoulders and look Edward in the eyes. His expression would have been laughable if I wasn't feeling so resolute right now. His calm and slightly arrogant demeanor of few seconds ago is now replaced with an almost palpable anxiety. Join the club, sucker.
"Well, Edward? Should we hold hands first?" My voice sounds assertive and strong, and I'm rather proud of the fact that I managed to get my agitation under control, unlike the squirming man sitting across from me.
He looks lost for a moment, and then I see the same determined look on his face that most likely mirrors mine of a second ago. I sigh in relief as he nods firmly and suddenly, without warning, makes a grab for both my hands. We look at each other, and I'm not sure who looks more shocked between the two of us. I drop my eyes to where his hands are holding mine, and look at the odd combination of our combined fingers. I notice my knuckles are turning white and release the death grip I have on him. His fingers are long and smooth, and I notice, not for the first time I have to admit, that he has really nice hands. They are big and firm but not rough and calloused…the hands of a writer, or a pianist, if you like. The man obviously has a good hygiene regiment because his nails are short and tidy with no dirt underneath or in the corners. I hate dirty fingernails.
"There, now that's not so bad, is it?" I smile victoriously and raise my eyes to find him staring at our entwined fingers, a curious look adorning his features. The corners of his lips pull up in a small smile as he nods in agreement and then once again focuses his eyes on mine.
"Definitely bearable." Well, that certainly does nothing for my confidence, but I'm not here to fish for compliments, and I certainly don't need any from him.
"What's next?" I ask, faking ignorance. No need for him to know that I'm rather curious as to what his lips will feel like against my skin. Don't judge me. I'm only a woman after all, and the man sitting across from me is undeniably kissable.
"I just want to try one thing," he says gravely, his eyes jumping between mine and my bottom lip, which I currently have in a death grip between my teeth. I remain frozen, watching his slow descent into exasperation, feeling his minty breath on my face. He's moving at the rate of a Special Olympics hurdler, and although I have nothing against being cautious, this is just becoming ridiculous. Why is this taking him so long? Lips - touch awaiting cheek - or other lips. Easy as that! I finally become impatient and move forward to close the gap, and my sudden movements makes him pull back at the speed of lightning. Oh, so now he knows how to move faster?
"Good, grief woman!" he exclaims and drops my hands to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"What? You were taking forever," I defend vehemently. "There really is no need for foreplay, Edward. This is a done deal."
"Ugh." He groans in frustration and leans back against the couch, his arms crossed over his eyes like a petulant child.
"You are making a bigger deal of this than it needs to be," I scold at his covered face.
He drops his arms and gives me a steely look. "Do you always have to be in control?" His nostrils are slightly flared, and I must say that it's a rather attractive look on him. I'm not a fan of aggression, but I've read my fair share of Harlequin novels. There is something ruggedly handsome about a man on the verge of breaking something. I just hope that it's not our deal.
"Yes," I admit with a shrug, because it's true. No need for me to pretend I'm something I'm not. His eyes are burning into mine, and I can see that he is pondering his options. "Look, I'm sorry," I finally concede. The last thing I need now is for him to walk out of this door. "Can we try again? I promise I'll keep still this time."
He looks at me skeptically for what seems like forever, but at last I see the fight draining from his eyes.
"I promise, okay?"
"Fine." He sighs heavily and straightens out his lean body. "Just try to...I don't know." He pulls his one hand through his hair in frustration. "Just try, okay?"
"Okay." I nod and offer an apologetic smile, which he ignores. He takes my hands in his again and takes a deep breath. He starts his descent once more, and this time I'm waiting patiently. His face is mere inches from mine. The natural reaction would be to close my eyes, but I don't trust him to not leave me hanging, so I keep them open to ensure that I don't make a fool of myself. His eyes move from mine to my lips, and I lick them instinctively. I see his pupils dilate slightly and just as I'm preparing for him to plant a wet one on my lips, he bends his head to the right and kisses my cheek.
Oh come on, all the build up just for that?
I'm ready to call him out on his cowardice when I feel another small kiss slightly lower that the last. I shut my mouth instantly and feel all the saliva drain, leaving me with cotton mouth. He kisses me again, and I realize that he is slowly making his way towards my lips. I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to focus on how soft and sweet his kisses are. I notice that his fingers started moving in mine, and he is now rubbing slow circles with his thumbs on the back of my hands. The whole ritual is leaving me breathless, and I fight to remain in control and ignore his scent, which has now completely engulfed me. It's like sensory overload when his lips hesitantly touch the corner of my mouth, and my lips twitch in response. I can feel him smile against my cheek, and I'm about to pull away when he lowers his lips to mine gently.
Nothing…and I mean absolutely bloody nothing could have prepared me for the sensation of having his soft lips molding against mine. The kiss is purposeful and not sloppy at all. I can feel the gust of air he pushes through his nose as he applies just the right amount of pressure to my lips. I think my fingers are on the verge of breaking his, and I can feel the stiffness in my back. No, this is most certainly nothing like kissing a family member. He slowly pulls back, and I find that I'm the one contemplating deepening the kiss.
My breathing is labored, and I can feel the burn on my cheeks. I release his hands and lift the fingers of my one hand to my lips, surprised by the tingling feeling that remains there.
"How was that?" My eyes fly open at his question and find him smirking at me arrogantly. I'm instantly embarrassed and annoyed.
"A bit sloppy for my liking," I lie and pretend to wipe some spit from my bottom lip. This earns me an obnoxious snort, and I simply shrug in reply.
"Listen lady, if there's one thing I know how to do, it's kiss." He folds his arms over his chest in defiance, and all the tingly remnants of the earth shattering moment leave my body in a whoosh. Somebody needs an attitude adjustment, and I'm just the right one for the job.
"I've had better," I respond indifferently and smile at him sweetly.
He raises an eyebrow, and I can tell he knows I'm lying. "Is that so?"
I choose to ignore his challenge and raise myself to my feet, surprised to find my knees to be a little unsteady. "That concludes our practice session then." I clap my hands together and briskly walk to my study, ignoring the buzzing tingle making its way up my legs. I grab the papers I prepared for this meeting and return to Edward who is comfortably sprawled out on my couch, leaving me no other choice but to either sit on his lap or sit on the chair he earlier occupied. I opt for the chair, obviously.
"While you're familiarizing yourself with my couch," I remark sarcastically, "maybe you would like to go through the list I made."
"List?" He turns his head lazily in my direction, as if he didn't even notice my entrance, and reaches his hand out to mine. I hand him the thick binder and sit back in the chair, worrying my bottom lip as he pages through it. "You made a Power Point presentation of your life?" he asks in surprise as his eyes skim over the content.
"Yes, I did." I feel rather superior due to my foresight and smile confidently.
"I made a list too," he replies to my surprise and reach into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a frumpy looking paper. I stretch to grab it from his outstretched hand and deftly unfold it. My eyes scan the one paged document, and I feel my mouth open slightly.
"This is it?" I ask and lower the page to look at his face, which is pulled into a mask of concentration as he reads through my documented life.
He nods distractedly and turns a page. I look at the paper in my hands and start reading through the sparse information.
"But I already know most of this," I exclaim in disappointment and throw the paper on the side table next to our water bottles.
"Not much more to know, I guess." He shrugs and lowers the binder to his stomach looking at me with interest in his eyes. "You use to do gymnastics?"
I'm taken aback by the change of subject and self consciously clear my throat. "Yes, for most of my school career. I used to be slightly uncoordinated, but the gymnastics helped with that."
"I can't imagine that," he mumbles more to himself.
"What do you mean?" I ask defensively, tugging my hair behind my ears.
"Just that I can't imagine you being any less…coordinated…than you are now," he replies with a smirk.
"Yes, well, I wasn't born this…" I struggle to find the right description. "This…"
"Uptight?" he offers and then chuckles as my dumbfounded expression.
"I'm not uptight!" Am I?
"If you say so." He lifts the binder and looks at the content with apt fascination.
"Well, I'm not." I pout like a scolded toddler. "I'm…focused." There, take that.
"Is that what you call it?" He mumbles, obviously uninterested in my line of defense.
I huff in indignation and choose to ignore his question, grabbing at the paper I too hurriedly discarded. I run through the list, and my eyes fall upon an interesting piece of information.
"You grew up in Chicago?"
"Yip." He pops the 'p' once again.
"Why did you go to college in Washington then? And why did you choose to work in Seattle?"
"To answer your second question," he begins and raises his body to sit up straighter, "I've wanted to work for Breaking Dawn the moment I decided that writing was what I wanted to do with my life, whether I was writing my own books or helping someone else to perfect and publish theirs. The answer to your first question is a little more loaded, and I'm not sure I'm comfortable with going into the details. Let's just say for argument's sake that none of the colleges in Chicago could offer what I needed, which in the end, was some space."
I nod even though I don't understand at all. From what would he need space? An old girlfriend or maybe a family feud? The writer in me wants to know everything and can already smell a juicy story here. The business woman side, however, knows to keep this light and avoid any heavy details which will surely blur the lines between professionalism and personal involvement.
"How did a small town girl from." He pauses and looks at the binder. "Forks, is it?" He proceeds without waiting for my affirmation. "End up in the bit, scary city?"
"Pretty much the same reasons as yours I guess. And no, I don't want to talk about it either for exactly the same reasons as yours." Edward looks at me for a moment longer, understanding dawning and then gives me a small smile. "I guess you don't have to sit and read the binder here. No reason why you can't read it in the comfort of your own house, on your own couch." I give him a pointed look, and I'm rewarded with a lopsided grin that makes me slightly hot and increasingly edgy. "Let me show the rest of the house, and then I do believe that we are done here, Mr. Cullen."
He rolls his eyes at my formality, and I can't help the slight smile pulling at my lips. The man is incorrigible.
"This should be exciting." He almost sounds like he means it, which makes me even more nervous.
"Why would it be exciting?" I ask in confusion. Surely seeing someone's home doesn't rank high on the things-that-gets-the-blood-pumping list.
"I know a lot of people who would love to see where the Ice – " He stops abruptly realizing that he spoke too fast and freezes mid step.
I won't lie and say that it doesn't hurt a little hearing him refer to me in the same derogatory manor as his colleagues. I don't know why I hoped he would be different somehow. I don't let the hurt show on my face though. I worked hard to get where I am, and I'm sure as hell not going to let some hot-shot-wannabe writer make me feel inadequate. Okay, I may be a little harsh with the wannabe-writer part, but his little slip feels like a slap in the face, and the only way I know how to retaliate is to slap back.
"Ice Queen, right?" He looks like his about ready to die. "Don't break a sweat, Mr. Cullen." Yes, I'm back to formalities, and I'm very aware of the fact that I'm once again doing it to protect myself. "I'm rather familiar with the nickname."
"I'm so sorry… That was an accident and I didn't mean to…" I interrupt him with a dismissive wave of my hand and proceed to make my way towards the guest room. I hear him behind me, mumbling softly under his breath as I open the door.
"Guest room with en-suite bathroom." I stand to the side for him to see the room decorated in crisp whites and olive greens. I close the door before he can step in and move past him. "Guest bathroom." I point and walk briskly ahead. "Study, not to be entered, ever." I give him a warning look over my shoulder as we walk past my little haven. "This is my room." I stop in front of the door leading to my bedroom. "I suppose you'll need a quick look, seeing as my parents will probably expect you to know the inside of it." I say the last part in an almost whisper, the embarrassment of the moment burning my cheeks. I push the door open and stand to the side.
Edward looks at me anxiously for a second, before stepping inside the room. I follow him silently and am taken aback by the image of him standing in my most private sanctuary. Except for the movers, no man has ever stepped foot inside of this room, and the level of discomfort I feel is staggering. He studies the room silently, his eyes falling on the bed first, covered in purple silk. Purple is my favorite color, surprise-surprise. It's not lost on me that people say the color is an indication of sexual frustration. Very perceptive. The next man who goes down there will need a flash light and pliers as I'm sure it has grown shut due to lack of use. He turns slowly, taking in the artwork against my walls, the vases filled with lilies and the dramatic pale grey curtains pulled aside to allow a view of the city. Once he's turned to face me, his eyes meet mine, and I'm surprised at the gentleness I find there.
"It's just as beautiful as the rest of the house," he says with a small smile and shoves his hands in the rear pockets of his jeans, causing his shirt to stretch over his visibly defined chest. Somewhere between writing his book, running around on my orders and keeping his nails clean, the boy obviously works out.
"So this is where the magic happens?" he asks whiles arching his eyebrows suggestively.
"You wish," I scold, but smile in spite of myself. I notice Edward giving me a genuine smile, and finally feel the tension of his earlier blunder leave us.
"Listen, Bella." He sighs heavily, and my back straighten in preparation of his next words. "About earlier." I drop my head and dig my nails into the palms of my hands. Why can't he just leave well enough alone? "I'm really sorry about the comment. It was rude and uncalled for. I honestly don't know what I was thinking."
"It's okay – "
"No, it really isn't," he interrupts. "I wasn't brought up that way, and I certainly didn't mean to hurt you."
I set my jaw. "You didn't."
"Regardless, I apologize. Things were going rather amicably there, and now I think I've ruined it by being a complete dipshit." His voice sounds so sincere that I can't fight the urge to look at him and confirm whether he really means it. There is no sign of the arrogant smirk or concealed laughter pulling at his lips. His face is solemn, and it takes me back slightly. "Do you think you can forgive me?"
For some odd reason I feel slightly emotional. Tears are stinging behind my eyes, and I'm so surprised at the sensation that I momentarily forget that he's waiting for an answer. "You're forgiven." I manage and in an attempt to avoid him possibly noticing my rather unexpected predicament, I turn my body and point at the en-suite bathroom. "Bathroom. Not to be confused with the walk in closet. That will be a dead give away." I point to a similar door further left. I spare him a glance out of the corner of my eye and notice that he is still looking at me. He shuffles his feet for an awkward moment before following the line of my arm.
"Got it." He nods, and I feel the relief washing over me in waves.
"Well then, except for the kitchen, dining room and living room, which you've already seen, this concludes the tour," I declare brightly. "If there's nothing else…?" I let the sentence linger between us, hoping and praying that he will take the bait and just finally leave. My nerves are on end. I'm obviously losing control of my emotions and quite frankly, I'm freaking tired already.
"No, I guess that's it then," he replies, and we make our way towards the living room, neither of us saying anything. He stoops down to pick up the binder he left on the couch, and my eyes catch a sliver of skin peeping out between his shirt and his jeans. I divert my eyes before he gets a chance to turn around and catch me.
"Ready?" I'm about to kick his ass out of my apartment if he doesn't hurry the hell up.
"Ready."
I lead him to the front door and pull it open, standing aside in order for him to step out. He steps past me and freezes right inside the doorframe.
What the hell now? I look up at him in irritation, and I'm once again surprised by his proximity. He's studying my face thoughtfully, and I realize my lips are parted, so I snap them closed audibly. This clearly interrupts his musings, and his eyes wonder back to mine.
"Goodbye, Edward." The greeting is clipped and void of emotion because I really need him to catch the hint and leave.
"Goodbye, Bella." His voice is a husky whisper, and I find myself blinking in confusion. Before I know what's happening, his hand is on my face, and his thumb brushes the apple of my cheek softly. A smirk spreads his lips as he notices my shock. "Just practicing." He shrugs, and then he's gone, making his way towards the elevator in five long strides. "See you at the office tomorrow, Miss Swan!" he calls before I close the front door behind me and sag with my back against it.
I lift my hand to touch the spot where he was touching a moment ago and finally allow myself an astonished smile.
Cocky bastard.
xoxo
I'll practice with Edward any day, huh?
With love…
Your Mistress
xoxo