All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the author. Plagiarism is theft. No copying or reproduction of this work in any language is permitted without the express written authorization of the author. Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. Thank you. May 2010.

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Let's see what Edward thinks about this whole thing, shall we?

EPOV

Chapter 16

Jesus Christ her ass is a fucking piece of art. I follow her down the hall like I'm in a trance or something. I know this is wrong right now. She's completely wasted, but it's all I can do not to push her up against the wall. Wait…holy fuck…she's pushing me. Her little hand is planted against my chest and coaxing me towards the wall in the bathroom...her eyes dark, her cheeks flushed, her breathing elevated. This isn't how this is supposed to happen...no wait…it's exactly how it's supposed to happen. It's how I've imagined it happening countless times before; just not with her so drunk that she won't remember it in the morning.

"Edward, why did you come back?" she asks, running her hand up my chest, stopping it at my shoulder.

Whoa, what? I can't even think straight. "What do you mean?"

"Why did you come back to the bar? Was the random white dressed tramp not interesting enough for you?" Oh, of course. She thinks something happened with Angela. Fuck, I'm an idiot. So much time wasted already with this stupid game we're in.

"Bella, I didn't do anything with Angela. She was wasted. I put her into a cab and sent her home," I explain.

She takes a shaky step back and grips the sink to steady herself. She looks like she's in shock…or like she's going to throw up. Oh, please don't throw up. I don't think I can handle another puke fest tonight.

"You know her?" she asks.

I nod my head. "Yeah. Angela and I used to live together."

"Used to?" she asks. Oh no. Her eyes are glazing over. This isn't the time to have this conversation. I want her to remember this. I want her to know that Angela doesn't mean anything to me anymore.

"Of course you did," she says sourly.

"What does that mean, 'of course you did'?"

"Nothing. It doesn't even matter." She sounds dejected, and I see her start to shut down on me. Well, that or the alcohol is finally winning the battle.

"Of course it matters, Bella. Talk to me. We can't keep doing this." Fuck, what I wouldn't give to turn back the clock, to start this over again.

"Where did I put that aspirin?" she asks, reaching around me and leaning over so I can see right down her sweater. She opens a small mirrored cabinet door above the sink. Fuck me. Her breasts are pushed up and almost out of her sweater. She's clearly trying to kill me. She fumbles around, knocking some shit into the sink, and then holds out a small bottle of aspirin to me. She looks up all sweet and innocent and fucking tempting.

I move beside her, heat radiating off her little body, and take a look into the sink. What the fuck is she doing with condoms? I can feel my blood boil at the mere thought of her with somebody else. Not that I think that's happened recently. I mean, she said herself that she doesn't date. I push the unwelcome thought of Bella with someone other than me to the back of my mind while she scoops out the contents of the sink, shoving everything back into the cupboard.

I hand her some aspirin and pour her a cup of water. She has these cute little Dixie cups with fish on them. I smile as hold the cup out to her. She's staring at my hands, a mesmerized look on her face. Oh shit. I think she might be close to passing out. She swallows the aspirin and drinks the water down. "I'm tired, Edward. I just want to go to bed." My dick strains while she turns and sits on the edge of the tub, which I'm a little confused about. If she's tired, we need to be getting her into the bedroom…and another twitch…yes, I know, but you need to get a grip down there…fuck, this isn't helping.

"I can help you," I offer, holding out my hand to her. She just stares up at me all confused and drunk and fucking beautiful. "Come on."

"I can't go to bed," she says quietly. Oh, if I have to carry her into her bedroom myself I will. Again…with dick twitching…why does it pick the worst times to fucking wake up? Oh, who am I kidding? It's always awake around Bella; wide awake and extremely needy right now. I try to convince her to let me help her to the bed, but she just keeps sitting there, not wanting to move.

"Edward, I can't just go lie down," she says. I swear to God, she's the most stubborn woman on the planet.

"Of course you can. Come on." Her eyes glaze over, and now I'm afraid she's going to tip back into the tub. I squat down beside her and try, yet again, to talk her into cooperating. I'm about a second away from just throwing her over my shoulder and…

"Edward, stop it. I can't just go lie down like a normal person and fall asleep. I need...I need to..." she trails off. Oh God, now she's crying. What the fuck does she need to do? Brush her teeth? Some secret nighttime ritual women always do? What the hell? That can all wait.

"I need to take care of my leg first." Her voice is barely audible while she looks down at me, tears silently spilling from her eyes.

My heart stops beating. Oh, of course she does. Why am I so stupid?

Her eyes search mine, her chest rising and falling deeply. I trail my hand down from her waist over top of her fuck hot jeans to where I feel her artificial leg start. "Just tell me what to do," I say.

I run my hand down the hem of her jeans and, never breaking eye contact, I roll the fabric up to her thigh. She takes a shaky breath in, fresh tears escaping. "Edward," she breathes. Her whole body is shaking, and all I can see, all I can feel is her.

She runs both of her hands down her thigh and over my hands, bringing them to the top of her artificial leg. She guides my hands to either side of it. She twists her hands, and then the weight of the leg is in my hands. She removes her hands and puts them to either side of her on the tub.

Holy fuck, my heart is racing in my chest, our eyes still locked, she nods her head slowly and I pull the leg away from her.

"Now what?" It doesn't even sound like my voice. It's shaking, much like my entire body is right now. That she's letting me do this is more than a massive step. It's intimate, erotic, trusting; she's putting her faith in me. It's overwhelming. I need to fucking paint.

"There are fresh cloths under the sink, and liquid soap. Can you bring them to me?" she asks, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Yeah." I set her limb down gingerly on the bath mat and move to the cupboard under the sink. Opening it, I see an array of cloths, washes, soap…oh her soap...I'd like to take a bar of that home with me after I rub it all over her body...focus, Cullen! I pick up a cloth and a bottle, which looks like some sort of soap solution, and turn back to her.

Her tears are falling more quickly now. "Bella, baby, please don't cry. I want to do this. Let me help you."

I set the cloth and the bottle beside her artificial leg and pick it back up, relishing in how it feels in my hands. It's perfect; she is perfect.

She holds out her hands to me and I place the limb into them. "Wet the cloth with warm water, and then put some of the soap on to it," she whispers. I comply, moving to the sink to wet the cloth, trying not to let her see my trembling hands. I return to her and she takes the cloth from me and wipes out the inside of the leg repeatedly, methodically. "Like this." She holds the prosthetic towards me and I take the cloth from her, running it in and around the inside of the leg just as she showed me, gently, carefully, trying to commit to memory how it feels in my hands. "Now you need to rinse it. So, just wet a new cloth." I follow her instructions, wetting a new cloth at the sink while I watch her reflection in the mirror as she studies her thigh carefully. I move back to her with the wet cloth. "I need to get all the soap off, or it might irritate my skin." She sweeps the wet cloth inside the socket until she's satisfied. "Now I need to dry it."

"Dry it? Like with a hair dryer?" I ask. She bursts out laughing, probably the most wonderful sound I've ever heard in my life. It sounds like music, like heaven.

"No, with a dry cloth," she says, brushing the tears from her cheeks. I pick up another cloth, resisting the temptation to give her one of my usual snide come backs. I so don't want to ruin this moment, and I know any wrong move I make could easily do that. I hand her the cloth and watch as she meticulously dries the limb. "Like this." She holds it out to me again. "You have to make sure it's totally dry before putting it back on."

I take the dry cloth and run it gently, repeatedly around the inside of her limb. I look up at her and she's watching me intently, her eyes fixated on my face.

"What now?" I ask.

"I need to wash my thigh," she breathes.

Holy fuck. I gulp and stare back at her. "How?"

"I need to get my jeans off first. Can you help me stand?" I set the leg down on the mat and leap up, holding my arms out to her. She pushes up off the side of the tub, holding on to my arms tightly, her breasts pushed against me. For the love of Christ. I hold her steady as she works her fingers on the button of her jeans and then slowly wiggles them down. I stare up at the ceiling, because if I look down, there's absolutely no turning back, and I want her to be sober when we finally do this.

She shifts back and sits down on the edge of the tub, pulling the jeans down so now, she's just sitting there in her sweater and whatever she has on under the jeans. Holy fuck I want to see what she has on. My mind is reeling with the possibilities, but I keep my eyes glued to the ceiling, running through all the artists I studied at Queen's…alphabetically.

"Edward?"

"Yeah?" I close my eyes and wait.

"I just need a new wet cloth with some soap on it." I grab another cloth, wetting it and squeezing some soap onto it. I hand it back to her. She takes off a thin piece of fabric from her thigh and then slowly begins to wash her skin. I think I've stopped breathing altogether while I watch her little fingers rub the cloth in slow circles. She stops and studies her thigh carefully.

"A dry one now?" I ask. She nods her head at me, and I hand her another cloth, watching her, mesmerized as she dries it off. "There's lanolin lotion on the counter. Can you get it?"

Fuck, lotion? Is she serious? She's trying to kill me. I turn from her and scan the counter, finding a large bottle of lotion and bring it back to her. I try to focus on her eyes, which are darker than they were a few minutes ago. Oh, what I wouldn't give to know what she's thinking.

She takes the lotion from me and squirts a small amount into her hands. She holds the bottle out to me, and I put it back on the counter and then lean against it. I watch her as she rubs circles, working the lotion into the skin on her thigh.

She raises her eyes to me. "Come here," she whispers. Oh my God. I'm over to her in a nanosecond, standing in front of her, looking down and awaiting her next command. I'll do whatever the fuck she wants right now. This woman owns me totally, completely, to the core.

"I usually rub in circles. It relaxes the stump. If I don't, sometimes it's sore in the morning, or there might by chaffing," she explains. "I have to watch for inflammation or dry skin, scraps, that sort of stuff."

"So, every night, this is what you have to do?" Fuck. I suddenly feel guilty for every single time I just drop into bed without doing fuck all.

She nods her head as she continues to rub the lotion into her thigh. "I have to rinse out and dry the cloths, too, and the inner sock." She lifts her head to the thin piece of material that now sits beside her leg.

"I can do that," I suggest, because quite frankly, I need a distraction from watching her massage her thigh. I turn back to the sink, glad to be set to task on this. I try to keep my mind from remembering that she's sitting there...half naked...completely vulnerable and exposed to me. God I want her. I want her more than I've ever wanted anyone or anything in my entire life. I concentrate on rinsing out the cloths and this inner sock, me and my shaky hands. I can see her reflection in the mirror as she watches me, and then examines her leg closely.

I finish rinsing and then turn back to her, my fingers digging into the sink. "They go on the drying rack," she says quietly. She lifts her head to a small rack beside the counter and I place them gingerly over the top and lean against the wall, trying to breathe. There's never been a more intense or emotional experience in my life than this.

I move my eyes down from her face because I just can't help myself, and I take a gasp in. "Holy fuck, Bella."

"What?"

"The bruise on your other leg," I say, narrowing my eyes. I take two long strides across the room to her and crouch down beside her. It's black, blue, red, and massive. "Is this what happened when you fell today?" She nods her head at me. "I'm so sorry. I think you should get this looked at don't you?"

My fingers fall just beside her leg on the tub, grazing her thigh gently. It quivers slightly. "I think I have bigger problems than a stupid bruised leg, Edward."

"It looks sore," I say.

"It is. But I've had a lot worse," she admits

"Do you want ice or something for it?" I ask. Fuck, why did I ask that? Ice and Bella's naked leg? Jesus, I'm a nanosecond away from coming right now.

"No. Can you just help me to bed?" she asks, her eyes squeezed shut. My mouth goes dry and I lift my eyes to her, furrowing my brow. "I mean, normally I would just hop, but I've had a lot to drink and I don't want to fall down...again."

"Yeah, of course," I say. I stand up and wrap my arm around her waist, lifting her off the tub and into my side. She fits perfectly right in the crook of my arm, under my shoulder, right where she belongs. She leans into me and then takes a hop towards the door. I stay at her side until we're in the hallway.

"My bedroom is this one," she says, pointing across the hall. Jesus Christ, I'm about to go into Bella's bedroom. I swallow loudly and stay with her as she leans further into me.

We enter the room and my eyes fall to a Queen sized bed under a large picture window with a dark grey comforter over it. I scan the walls, looking for something, anything to give me a clue to this woman, and am once again disappointed. There's nothing on these walls, either.

She hops another step and because I'm fucking fixated to the floor, overwhelmed about being in her room for the first time, I don't move with her. She stumbles in her now semi-drunkenstate and and I have to lunge to catch her. "Sorry about that," I breathe, looking down at her. Her hair has fallen in front of her face, and I can't resist brushing it behind her ear. "Fuck, Bella, you are so beautiful."

"Edward." She looks up at me all pleading and wanting and I feel the fire explode inside of me, crashing my lips to hers as I pick her up and lay her gently on the bed. She answers the kiss, moaning and writhing under me, my dick straining to get closer to the promised land. Our tongues move urgently together and she tastes fucking unbelievable, like vodka and cranberry and just Bella.

I press my torso further into her, and am rewarded by her hands tugging at my hair. Oh fuck, pull it harder, baby. She turns her head, exposing her glorious neck to me, and I plunge into it, raking my teeth against it, licking, tasting, wanting more. Fuck, I can't do this…not when she's drunk and doesn't know what she's doing.

"Bella," I say against her lips.

"Edward, please," she whines.

Jesus, don't beg me. I'm hanging on by a thread here. "I want to, Bella. I really, really want to. I just...you've had a lot to drink and I want you to remember, baby. You need to remember the first time, every time we do this," I murmur, resting my forehead on hers.

"When did you turn into the good guy, eh? First you're helping Angela, then you're saving me, now you're wanting to wait. If I didn't know better, I'd say you've gone soft or something."

"I've always been the good guy, Bella. I was just lost; really lost, until you. And trust me, around you, there's nothing soft," I mutter, pushing my embarrassingly hard erection into her, and she groans.

She pulls on the back of my neck and lifts her head off the pillow, bringing her lips to mine. "Thank you, Edward," she says against my lips. "Can you stay? Just until I fall asleep?"

"Of course I'll stay. I'll stay as long as you want." I'll stay forever.

She rests her head on the pillow and curls away from me. She puts her hand over mine and wraps it around her little waist, her ass jutting out against my groin. Jesus…for the love of God. I close my eyes, breathing her in, and she falls immediately into a deep sleep. I listen to her elevated breathing, and for the first time in a very long time, I feel completely at ease. Like this is the place I'm supposed to be.

Tonight, I've fucking reached my limit on the band of emotions that I've been hit with; a fucking roller coaster ride from hell that has led me to my little version of heaven. I can only hope that karma is, for once in my life, on my side in the morning. That she remembers something, anything from tonight that will give me a chance to show her how I feel. I fall asleep, clinging to that hope.

xxxxxx

A fucking really loud pounding is pissing me off, and its way too early in the Goddamn morning. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping the sound will just stop and I can move closer to Bella, hopefully wake her up and fuck her senseless. But it continues, and now there's a deep voice calling out. "Bella?"

What the fuck? I drag my sorry ass out of bed, because whoever the fuck this is needs to learn his Goddamn place, which is not pounding on Bella's door demanding that she open it at whatever the fuck time it is.

I shut the bedroom door behind me and move quickly to the front door, hauling it open. I take a step back as the most in shape man I've ever seen in my life stares back at me open mouthed.

He's got on tight black running shorts and a dark blue Nike tank top. His biceps are fucking massive. He narrows his eyes at me. "Who the fuck are you?" he asks. This asshole is a real charmer.

"I think you better answer that question, man. What are you doing pounding on Bella's door this early in the morning?"

"She didn't show up for our run. I got worried. It's not like her. Is she here?" He careens his neck trying to look into the house.

"She's sleeping," I say, stepping to the side, blocking his view.

"She's sleeping?" he asks skeptically.

"Yeah, that's what I said." You idiot.

"I'm Jake." He sticks a massive hand out to me and I shake it. He's gripping it really hard and this is the hand I paint with, so I recoil it from him.

"Edward."

"Edward. Huh, she hasn't mentioned you. Who would you be to her?" he asks as if they're life long best friends or something, and I owe this ass an answer. He narrows his eyes at me. Oh, don't you fucking dare start with me. I'm your fucking worst nightmare, that's who I'd be you dick.

"Who would you be to her?" I challenge him.

"I'm her physiotherapist and her friend. A very good friend," he says with a tone of warning in his voice. I think he just flexed his fuck hard muscles at me.

Like fuck he's a very good friend. This fucker wants her. That much is painfully clear. But her physiotherapist? Fuck, he knows her...better than I do I realize, and that doesn't sit well. "I'll tell her you stopped by." I move to shut the door, and his massive hand is stopping it.

"Make sure you do, Edward," he sneers at me in some kind of Neanderthal like warning.

I shut the door, a little too forcefully in his face, and hear Bella moan from the bedroom. I make my way back to her, trying to forget that I ever laid eyes on Mr. Roids. Bella is lying on her side, her thigh outside the comforter, her hair splayed on the pillow. She's the most beautiful sight I've ever seen. "Close your eyes and go back to sleep, Bella," I whisper.

"Jake? I'm supposed to run with…" Her voice trails and I smile, watching her drift back to sleep. So, now I've got a dilemma on my hands. Do I crawl back into bed with her, do I sit and watch her, do I make breakfast? I decide to get back into bed, it's just too fucking tempting not to, and I have no idea when I'm going to get this chance again. I wrap my arm around her waist and she nudges back into me. "Mmmm, Edward," she mumbles.

Holy fuck, the world has stopped turning. I want her to say my name like that again. I shut my eyes and savour this feeling, hoping when she finally does wake up, at least she remembers part of what happened last night.

xxxxxx

"Edward?" I wake to her voice calling me. Whoa, wait…hold on…she's not beside me. "Edward?"

"Hmm, Bella." I squeeze my eyes tighter and roll over to where she was sleeping.

I hear her sweet laughter, and my eyes fly open. She's standing beside the bed, fully dressed, staring down at me. What? Wait, no. This isn't supposed to be happening like this. "What's going on?" I ask.

"I have a date," she says smirking at me.

"What the fuck?" Oh shit, inside voice Edward.

She raises an eyebrow to me. "With Alice and Rose. We're going shopping and if I'm late, I'll never hear the end of it."

I sit up and rub my eyes. "What time is it?'

"Around eight-thirty," she says.

"Are you ok to go? I mean, you're not hung over?" I've got to say, I'm more than a little surprised. I mean, she was pretty wasted.

"I've felt better in my life, but the aspirin you gave me last night seems to have helped."

"You remember last night?" I'm shocked and moderately encouraged.

"Mostly, yes. Though parts are sketchy, if I'm being honest," she says, scowling.

"Oh," I say, like a loser.

"Edward, I need to thank you for last night. I'm pretty sure I would have been spending the night on bathroom floor if you weren't here…or worse." She shakes her head.

"It's ok, Bella. I'm glad I was here." You have no idea how glad I am that I'm still here.

"No, actually it's not ok. What I asked you to do last night was something that I never should have asked. I shouldn't have put you in that kind of situation. I know what my limits are, and I went way past them last night. Nobody should have to take care of me because of my idiotic behaviour," she says, sounding annoyed with herself.

"Bella, I didn't mind, seriously. There's no crime in getting help."

She stares at the floor. "You're a good guy, Edward, and I need to apologize to you. I've been a total bitch, and while your behaviour has been less than stellar, you don't deserve what I dish out. I mean, if I were you, I would have just left me there with Jason or whatever his name was."

I grit my teeth. "You said his name was James last night."

"I did? Yeah, I guess it might have been. I'm not really sure. That's the sketchy part," she says.

"So, you remember everything else? I mean, you remember when I…fuck, never mind." Why does this woman make me feel like I'm seventeen? I can barely form a sentence around her.

"Yes, Edward. I remember kissing you. That's kind of hard to forget, even as drunk as I was," she says firmly.

This woman will never cease to amaze me. I mean, this isn't at all what I was expecting. Even if she did remember, I expected her to pretend she didn't; to blame the alcohol, but I'm learning that Bella will never do what I think she will. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. I can see why Lauren is so into you," she says, sighing and sounding defeated.

"I don't care about Lauren. I care about you, and I'd really, really, like to kiss you again."

"What about Lauren, or all the other women?" she asks.

"There are no other women, Bella. There's only you. Maybe later today or tonight we could go out or something." Jesus it sounds like I'm fourteen and asking some unattainable and completely out of my league hot senior out on a first date or something.

"Where?" she asks, tilting her head to the side.

"Umm…" is my smooth response, because quite honestly, I'm amazed that she hasn't kicked me out of her house yet, and she actually appears to be somewhat interested in going to dinner.

"If memory serves, Edward, the restaurant suggestions were just rolling off of you a few days ago. Can't think of any now?" she asks, smirking at me. This is a different smirk…not full of distain and contempt. This appears playful…fuck, a playful Bella, in her bedroom, with me in her bed…My dick wakes up, hard as fucking forged steel or something.

"How about my place? There's something I need to show you," I suggest, because she needs to know everything. If this has a chance at all, she needs to understand what she's done to me, what I've done because of her.

"There is, huh? We're not having sex, Edward," she says definitively.

"I didn't say we were. Whatever gave you that idea, Bella?"

She blushes and walks around the bed to the door while I try to commit to memory the exact shade of red she's turned. I really wish we were at my studio right now so I could paint her. "I really need to go, Edward."

"Oh, yeah…right, sorry." I whip the sheets off, and she takes an audible gasp in as she notices the cock of steel that's straining in my jeans. I mean, who wouldn't notice it? I should be embarrassed, but I just can't be. And just because I enjoy tormenting her so much, I stretch up a bit and watch as her eyes grow wide while they linger and darken slightly. Actually, if I'm being honest, it's a little uncomfortable packed in there. It's so fucking hard, I think I may do physical damage to it if I don't find some release soon, and it clearly knows what it wants. I can feel it twitching, aching while she continues to gape at me.

"Guess, I should go," I say, taking deliberate strides towards the door. She swallows loudly and turns, making her way down the hall.

I follow her, again, back down the hall and to the front door, like I'm hypnotized or something. I'm still in the clothes I wore from last night, and her rushing me out of her house feels all wrong. I want to talk…we need to talk. But she's clearly on a mission for whatever lame girly get together she's got planned.

"So, you'll come over then, tonight?" I ask, sounding mildly pathetic and desperate.

"I guess. I mean, if you want. I can bring some wine," she suggests, all nervous. Bella Swan, nervous? I never thought I'd see the day. She's usually so in control and, well, loathing me, so this is a welcome departure.

"You don't need to bring wine, Bella. I've got that well covered."

She snaps her head back at me, all nervousness gone, replaced with the quirked eyebrow. "You do? What, have you got some sort of secret stash of wine in your painting cave?" she asks cynically, opening the front door and holding it for me.

"Yes actually, I do." Bella in my wine room, me licking wine off of Bella's…

"Oh, ok. What can I bring, then?" she asks, locking the door behind her.

I lean in, my mouth brushing her ear. "Just you." I leave her standing, gaping at me on her front step while I saunter to my car.

I get into the car and watch as she pulls out of her driveway and down the street. I accelerate towards my loft, the adrenaline flowing freely. There's another painting calling me, just aching to get out. But first, I think I need to stop at the art supply store. Yes, I was just there, but you can never have too many brushes. And if James just happens to be working…well…karma. I think it might just have to bite somebody else in the ass today.

Chapter End Notes

Up next, BPOV. How do things look with a hangover?

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