DISCLAIMER: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder of the words, plot and lackluster formatting belong to me. Please do not repost the story without authorization.
Thank you to my betas LightStarDusting and Scorp112 for their input and grammar skills. I'd be lost without you guys. I am kindly reminded each time I get a chapter back that I do not have as good a grasp on the English language as I think I do. Scorp was kind enough to write a wonderful review of the story that was posted at TheTwilightAwards(dot)com. You can read it there, if you remove the spaces that is. http: / / reviews. Thetwilightawards .com/2011/01/emotional-education-of-edward-cullen-by .html
A quick note about the star gazing in this chapter. The phenomena I wrote about were actually happening in my corner of the world at the time I outlined the story, so time-wise and location-wise for this story, they are not necessarily accurate.
Your reviews keep me smiling and inspired, so thank you for taking the time to say hello and share your opinions.
Chapter 9: Kissing Games
BPOV
Trying to give Edward some space wasn't as hard as I thought it would be, not with my mission to keep the evening light burning brightly in my mind. When I started rambling, I reminded myself not to monopolize the conversation. I quickly peeked at him while he was eating, but only allowed myself to make eye contact with him when he spoke to me. I might have used the glass of the coffee table to stare at his reflection at great length, but there was no proof of it. While we watched the movie, I forced myself to focus on the story instead of obsessing over how close together Edward and I were sitting. Luckily for me, the movie was pretty good, but more importantly, my plan worked. Edward made the first move. When I felt his fingertips on my neck, I inwardly rejoiced in my victory. It seemed like a better alternative than acknowledging that his touch left me feeling like Jell-O or taking his fingers into my mouth and sucking on them. And yes, the thought had occurred to me. My patience had paid off. I planned on seeing just how far it could take me.
When Edward quietly asked for permission to keep his arm around me, I responded by leaning against him. It was heavenly - all warmth and soft cotton mixed with Edward's delicious scent. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from asking what kind of cologne he wore. Surely that would have weirded him out, but he'd probably never stopped to think about how good he smelled. I had. I'd made myself so comfortable against him that, without thinking, I used his chest to hide my eyes during a shoot out scene. It was Edward's quiet sigh that made me realize what I'd done. The sigh seemed like a positive thing, but I wasn't sure. A part of me knew I should just ignore it and pretend it never happened, but I couldn't help myself from wondering. I looked up at him to find his face impassive. Not yay-she-leaned-against-me happy, not even oh-cool-she's-having-a-good-time content, just blank and un-reactive. Maybe the sigh wasn't even about me, or worse, it was and it was an irritated sigh. Panic began to bubble in my stomach.
My mind attempted to do damage control, rationalizing Edward's behavior and reviling mine, working to convince itself that his sigh had nothing to do with me. Unsuccessfully, I might add. The tight grip I'd managed to keep on my control all night began to slip, my emotions mutinying and taking over. The movie powered the insubordination. Stupid one-sided love affair. If I had known that the main character ended up alone after the man she'd dedicated her life to left her behind, I never would have rented the damn movie. It was like art imitating life – my life. Only the art ended up looking like a desperate moron who should have known better. Was that what I was going to look like if things with Edward blew up in my face?
I worked to even out my breathing, to ignore the heaviness in my chest by diverting my attention to blurring my silver-polished toenails in and out of focus, and reminded myself on repeat that it was a bad idea to fall apart. My only chance to hold it together was if the heroine managed not to cry. Of course, she didn't, and I joined in on her sorrow. It wasn't just a few tears either; I was straight up sobbing like a baby. It was mortifying. I knew I would look just like the woman in the movie when the experiment was over. This was, and always would be, a one-sided relationship. And even though I knew that going in, I had momentarily lost my perspective, focusing on how much I wanted my feelings reciprocated instead of on the restitution of Edward's affection. I was stuck in the reality of his lack of feelings for me, already mourning the end of our pretending and embracing the pain that would eventually consume me. All I could do was wait for the movie to end, in hopes of not drawing any more attention to my teary-eyed freakshow.
I made a mad dash for the bathroom once the credits began to roll. By the time the door clicked shut, I was shaking like a leaf, my emotions coursing through me on the wings of adrenaline. What had I done? I couldn't afford to show that much emotion in front of Edward, not unless I wanted to scare the shit out of him. He was probably already dreaming up an escape plan. I splashed a little cold water on my face and took a drink, using the distraction to get a hold of myself.
I'd made a mistake. That's all. I needed to go back out there and own up to what I'd done, to suck it up and take his needling. Only then could I possibly save face a little bit. I wasn't perfect and never claimed to be. I could do this. I had to.
I braced myself for Edward's brashness, expecting him to ask me why I cried in the tactless way he worded things when he didn't understand something. Instead, he was kind and uncharacteristically sensitive, even when I admitted my overreaction. His compliment set my mind reeling. Not only was it a very nice thing to say - especially for him - it felt personal. Too personal. I couldn't let myself believe that he felt anything beyond friendship for me and maintain the proper perspective. And let's face it - I was already having trouble in that area. I had to keep my feelings for him compartmentalized for my own sanity. With one compliment, the lines between experiment and relationship blurred. Then Edward's kiss completely obliterated them.
I was trying to prove to Edward that women were unpredictable by climbing into his lap and being purposely suggestive - not that I hadn't already proven it with my teary breakdown. Well, if I pushed the envelope, he set it to burn. His kiss was totally unexpected, his intensity even more so. I threw myself into it with both lips.
When he tried to pull away and apologize, I quieted him by kissing him again, and I did it as many times as it took for him to surrender. I refused to let him feel bad about getting caught up in the moment and allowing it to get the better of him. It was the same thing that had happened to me with the movie. I'd be a hypocrite if I let him think he'd done something wrong. And if nothing else, his loss of control moved the experiment to the next phase.
I couldn't pretend that I wasn't tickled pink by the naturalness of his reaction. It was hard to imagine someone kissing me like that – with such avid intensity and desire - without having feelings for me, and therein laid the problem: the seed was planted. There would always be some amount of doubt - maybe because I wanted him to care, or maybe to justify putting myself into this crazy experiment. The reason didn't matter that much. I just knew that I was never going to be able to wholly believe he had no feelings for me.
And I was totally screwed.
I saw Edward at school first thing Monday morning. I gave him my regular greeting. He gave me his regular reply. I thought I saw something in his eyes when he looked at me, but I couldn't be sure. Most of the morning was passed debating whether I saw what I wanted to see. It was entirely possible and, unfortunately for my marbles, probable. I saw him look at me at lunch, which was a little out of the ordinary for him. After school, he was straight up watching me in the parking lot, and that was unheard of. I knew what I wanted it to mean and did my best to talk myself out of it while I drove to the police station to drop off my dad's dinner. It might have worked if I hadn't found Edward waiting in front of the house when I got home.
"What's up?" I asked, slamming the door of my truck and turning toward him. He shook his head and shrugged cryptically, the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. He followed me up the sidewalk to the front porch. "Did you want to come in?" Another smile, a subtle nod. I held the door open for him.
"After you," he insisted.
"Oh good, I thought you'd lost your voice." Better I tease him by pointing out something silly than let my brain make things into something else entirely.
"I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday," he said quietly. I closed the door and turned to face him. He was right there, barely a foot away, staring at me with a look on his face that I didn't recognize.
"No need to apologize. Things are going to unfold between us at their own rate. It's not worth worrying about." I was trying to convince myself as much as him. I smiled, expecting his expression to soften or change, but it didn't.
"We agreed that we shouldn't move forward unless we're both comfortable. I didn't ask you before I kissed you. I didn't check to make sure you were okay with it." He inched forward.
"Beginner's mistake, I guess."
"Was it… okay with you?" His voice was soft and unsure, but his body was leaning toward mine in a slow and determined manner.
"Sure," I told him, hoping I sounded nonchalant. His kiss has been so far beyond "okay" that the word sounded like an insult.
"So you'd be open to letting me kiss you again?" I knew I'd seen something in his eyes at school. It was the same look I saw in them now.
"For the purpose of science, of course," I joked, trying to halt the desire that was thrashing around inside of me, threatening to erupt in a very uncontrolled way.
He laughed, a tiny half-suppressed chuckle that he tried to hide in a smile. "Is now good?"
"Now's good," I echoed, letting him back me against the door as his mouth came to mine.
His lips were softer and gentler than yesterday but still rushed. I needed to slow him down if I had any chance at getting the good, old-fashioned kiss that I wanted from him. Focusing on technique, I let the teacher in me take over, hoping that it would make me forget the weakness in my knees and the flutter in my stomach. Maybe then I could pretend that his smile alone wouldn't get him everything he wanted from me.
I brought my hands to his face and held his jaw lightly, pulling away from his mouth with an exaggerated pucker. When he came back at my lips, l let him, but I pushed my chin out toward his when his mouth closed on mine, just to ease him back a little more. To make my point, I moved in on him with barely there pecks that were slow and sensual. He pushed his mouth at me willfully. I took his top lip between mine, letting it slide slowly from my hold and then repeated the action on his bottom lip, trying to make it clear that I didn't want to hurry.
His hands were resting tentatively on my hips. I reached down and pulled them around my waist, using my palms to flatten them against my back. It was a much more personal hold - more confident, better presence. No woman wanted unsure hands on her body; she wanted resolute hands, the hands of a man who knew what he wanted. Edward huffed in frustration, pushing his mouth at mine again. It was becoming clear that Mr. Impatient had control issues. I was almost giddy at the thought of trying to break him of them. Nothing like a project to keep my brain occupied on something other than my feelings for Edward.
I decided to try a new approach. Instead of pulling away, I returned every kiss he gave without removing my lips from his, keeping my response light and gentle. He seemed to catch on better, abandoning his haste in favor of mirroring my actions. It was kind of heady to lead him because I could make him kiss me any way that I wished, and acknowledging that fact made it a lot harder to control myself. It didn't help that Edward was a quick study.
I opened my mouth and delicately touched my tongue to his top lip, in polite proposition. He jerked backward, pulling me with him because of how he held me. Score one in the fail column for the first attempt at a French kiss. I was nothing if not good at zeroing in on what made Edward feel awkward. I had to work hard to calm the giggle that threatened to erupt.
He was undaunted by his faux pas, his willing mouth back at mine within seconds. His lips were slightly parted, so I slipped my tongue inside. I was slow; I didn't want to scare him off again. His tongue was timid and hesitant, so I retreated a bit, sandwiching his bottom lip between mine with gentle pressure. He pulled his lip away in a deliberately slow manner and then took my lip between his, raking his teeth over it as he let it go. I suspected he wanted me to repeat the action on him - student teaching the teacher. It wasn't hard to understand that he might be uncomfortable in the role of unskilled novice. I indulged him in a far less intense way, my teeth barely touching his lip. He growled softly in response, affirming my thoughts: it was too much, too soon - too vehement for the way we were kissing. If we were truly going to take this a step at a time, we had to move cautiously.
When Edward used his teeth again, I didn't reciprocate, nor did I when he repeated it. His teeth were more insistent this time, approaching painful in the way they dug into my flesh. I could tell he was frustrated, and I wanted to be supportive, but I would stop short of letting him hurt me. I opened my mouth a little more widely, waiting to see if he'd take the bait. His tongue ventured out against mine, his intensity transferred to an overly enthusiastic thrust into my mouth. I was patient, moving my tongue in a playful, gentle manner. Edward was paying close attention and corrected his vigor almost instantly. He was very curious, testing different movements and positions to find what he liked. I liked it all, especially the taste of him on my tongue.
We moved slowly. I hoped I was conveying my intention with my unhurried pace and that he was picking up on the subtleties of each kiss and touch. At least he was past the awkwardness of our physical connection, which I was thankful for, but I wasn't looking forward to trying to put any of this into words. Knowing Edward, his questions would be numerous.
My hands naturally drifted up to his neck. Feeling a tiny bit indulgent and more than a little curious, I let my fingers slide into his hair. It was soft and thick, and the texture of the short hairs on my fingertips felt wonderful. I was so focused on my own enjoyment that it took me a moment to realize that his breathing had picked up. The way he pressed his lips to mine was edging on insistent. I found it hard to resist letting him dominate the kiss, even though I knew I had to. When my subtle attempts to slow him down went ignored, I moved my hands to his chest and gently tried to push him back.
I couldn't move him.
Edward's hands came to my face. His thumb brushed along my jawbone while his fingers curled around my neck, tenderly holding it as he pressed his tongue against mine fervidly. I was impressed. He had game I didn't know about, or at least an instinct that gave him some idea of how a woman liked to be touched – how this woman liked to be touched.
There was something in the potential of his fingertips. They were gentle in touch but had a raw power undulating shallowly beneath their surface – a separate entity that fascinated me. I wanted to understand it intimately – to call and coerce it, to be the master of it.
Edward's response continued to heighten, and alarm bells went off in my head. As much as I wanted – craved – this response from him, it was too much, too soon. I couldn't let my hormones screw this up by giving Edward what I was pretty sure he wasn't ready for. If I let him get in over his head, he might feel embarrassed or confused and end up regretting ever trying. Plus, didn't they say you should always leave them wanting more? Knowing he wasn't going to willingly give up control to me, I had to take charge of the situation before I gave into it any further. A picture of a riding crop and knee-high leather boots came into my mind. In a flash, the image was replaced - the boots on my feet and the crop in my hand, thwacking lightly against my palm as I stared at Edward in annoyance. My own whacked out version of my inner dominatrix. I couldn't hold back the giggle at the notion. Edward pulled away from the kiss in stunned irritation.
"What are you laughing at?" he asked, wiping all traces of our kiss from his mouth with the back of his hand. The action put an end to my laughing, feeling more like a slap in the face than someone drying his lips. It wasn't personal, but it felt like it was, although I suppose my giggling felt the same way to him.
"I'm sorry. That was rude. It wasn't anything you did. It was the picture in my head that made me laugh." I knew my explanation wasn't going to stop Edward's questions before it even left my mouth.
"What was it of?"
"You did really well with the kiss," I complimented him, changing the subject to protect my inner dominatrix. She was a fledgling, only in the early stages of learning what she liked. The boots and crop had disappeared. She wore plain, dark jeans and a white cotton tee now. Not much of a dominatrix at all, really. I wasn't about to let Edward destroy her by sharing her existence with him. "The hand thing was good."
"Hand thing?" His face had the most adorable confused expression. It took all my energy not to focus on it.
"Your hands on my neck, at the end there. Nice move. Girls go crazy for stuff like that." I tried to demonstrate the move, but my hand placement was off and I ended up looking awkward and silly.
"You didn't seem to like it very well or you wouldn't have put an end to our kiss with your laughing." His quiet voice held an air of indignation that made me want to snicker and swoon at the same time. Instead, I offered a placation.
"It was getting pretty intense."
His lips pursed as he thought over my statement. I couldn't help but wonder if he was angry that I'd given a rational explanation for stopping. "Perhaps, but isn't kissing supposed to get intense?"
I shrugged. "It doesn't have to. Kissing can be a lot of things, different things to different people. It's a give and take proposition, at least good kissing is."
"And this was good kissing?" I didn't know whether to laugh at his question or be insulted by it. Then again, good kissing was in the eye of the beholder, or be-kisser, as the case may be. For me, it was definitely good kissing. I decided to break down the process a bit for him. "Did you enjoy yourself?"
"In a matter of speaking, yes." His eyes darted rapidly in seemingly random directions, and I got the feeling he was trying to resist saying something. I suspected he had a lot of questions and was having trouble controlling the urge to bombard me with him. A tiny part of me hoped he was fighting the urge to say something inappropriate. It would be nice to not be the only one with that sort of difficulty.
"Okay." I smiled, pausing to choose my words carefully. "What didn't work for you?"
"I didn't like you pulling back from me," he answered without hesitation.
No duh, Mr. Impatient.
"I was trying to slow you down," I informed him.
"Why?"
Because you weren't giving yourself enough time to realize you liked kissing me, dumbass.
"I wanted you to enjoy the kiss. The way you were rushing felt more like you were trying to get to the next step, instead of taking pleasure in the moment." I hoped my honesty would break though his thoughts, that he'd at least consider my comment within the context of his actions.
"I see." He nodded, silent for a moment as he further dissected something in his mind. "So it doesn't need to be intense?"
"Intensity can be a really good thing, but it's not the only thing." I could see the change in his posture as my words registered – his shoulders relaxed and his head tilted a little to one side. It was his eyes that surprised me. They were ablaze with curiosity - vivid green and almost twinkling.
"When you moved my arms around your waist, what was that for?" His gaze was so consuming that I had to look away. I was glad that I could help him, but that didn't make it easier to resist his charms, even if he wasn't aware that he had them.
It's easier for me to pretend you want me when you hold me close.
"Intention. If you're into a woman enough to want to kiss her, then you should hold her in a way that tells her that."
"But I was holding you," he complained, his eyes wrinkling in refutation.
"It was the way you were holding me." I reached out for his hand and held it, barely letting my fingers make contact with his skin. After a moment, I squeezed more firmly to illustrate my point. "You want to do it with less diffidence, more savoir-faire."
"I guess that makes sense, but how do I know if I'm doing the right thing?" The innocence in his tone tugged at my heartstrings. I knew being this vulnerable with me had to be hard for him. I needed to be patient with him and answer his questions thoughtfully. This was all new to him.
"She'll give you clues in the way she responds, you just have to watch for them. If she sighs or moans, or if she starts kissing you back with more intensity, then you must be doing something right." I felt a little self-conscious stating such obvious things to him, like I was pointing out every trick I could hide behind.
"The first time you really responded to my kiss was just after you put your hands on my neck. That means you must have liked the way I was kissing you." He smiled smugly at me. I blushed instantly. Of all the inopportune times for him to be perceptive.
I forced myself to answer him, intentionally leveling the playing field to show him that I'd been paying attention too. "The same way you liked the feeling of my teeth on your lips."
"I wasn't sure you heard that," he said quietly, indirectly acknowledging the growl that reverberated from him. His hand cupped his neck nervously as his cheeks began to heat.
The memory of our kiss flooded my mind – the pressure of his lips, his velvet tongue, and the sweetness of his taste. I had to look away or risk giving too much away with my expression. "My point is that everyone enjoys different things. You just need to figure out what works for both of you. She'll give you hints about what you're doing right and wrong with her body language, if you're paying attention."
"You sound like you have all the answers," he decided, smiling. He couldn't have been more wrong. There were so many questions in my head, picking at my concentration and burning my consciousness like acid.
"No, I just understand the emotional stuff a little better than you." We both felt things; I was just better at naming them. I was probably better at acknowledging them, too.
"Much better than me, you mean. You've given me a lot to think about." He shoved his hands into his pockets and grinned down at the floor. His smile was so big that it made me feel like I was on the outside of an inside joke. The compulsion to put him on the spot hit me. I resisted, chewing on the inside of my cheek to offset the anxiety.
"Glad to help," I mumbled, giving him a tight smile. And I was glad, at least in part, even if I hadn't quite figured out what else I was feeling.
We talked a little bit about school and made tentative plans for Friday night. The push and pull of kissing him again was toying with me. My control was tentative at best. I couldn't think straight with his scent all around me, with the taste of him lingering on my tongue. I used the excuse of studying to cut our visit short. We had to take baby steps. Unfurling Edward Cullen was a multi-step process. I had to respect his boundaries for the time being, even if they were part of what kept him closed off and isolated. Time was on my side. Besides, I was all for behaving myself so I could feel his lips on mine again. As I watched him leave, I realized really super deep down that I should be more upset about how in over my head I was.
~8~
EPOV
I sought Bella out every day. On Monday, I went to her house to apologize; Tuesday, I waited by her truck under the pretense of finalizing our weekend plans. By Wednesday, I didn't make it past lunch, searching her out in the cafeteria line. She seemed to understand my plight implicitly, quietly inviting me over each day after school. She was always discreet, handling my approach with incredible finesse. It was admirable. Exams started on Thursday, so I found her first thing and asked her to take a drive after school. Since we'd made plans for Friday night early in the week, I had no excuse to find her that day but fought the urge nonetheless.
Kissing Bella had triggered something in me that I couldn't seem to gain a solid understanding of, and my thoughts became a little obsessive about it. There was no denying that I liked the physical aspects of what we were doing - the pressure of her hands on my body, the sensation of her lips against mine - but that was just basic biology. It was the range and intensity of emotions that came with it that left me overwhelmed and confused. I felt something different each time I kissed her. It just wasn't logical.
How could a kiss make me feel angry, turned on and wistful at the same time? How could her mouth pull emotion out of me based on a change in pressure, speed or action? Intention, attraction, control and skill were all intricately connected in a web of pathways that I could not navigate successfully. I seemed to lack the ability to temper my response to her. I knew she wasn't slowing us down, pulling away, or holding back to purposely make me mad. I knew a kiss couldn't last forever, and that, at least in part, it was supposed to evoke desire, but none of it seemed to change my reaction. Even though I enjoyed they way she kissed me, it never satisfied me, and it always led to intensity that made her pull back.
I took what she demonstrated on Monday and tried to apply it on Tuesday, watching for clues in her body language to help guide me. I was too intense from the very beginning. Bella told me that I lunged at her with my mouth agape, like I was going to eat her. Not the best place to start from. By the end of our endeavor, I was frustrated and irritated. Bella reminded me to move slowly and enjoy each moment of the kiss. On Wednesday I began very slowly, locking and re-locking lips with her for what felt like an eternity. Clearly, I had difficulty staying in the moment. I thought I read the signs correctly, but when I deepened the kiss, Bella pulled away. I asked her why, and she told me that if the person you're kissing wants more, they will come and get it all on their own. What was the point of reading body language if I was leaving the progression of the kiss up to the other person? On Thursday, we drove for an hour, had a lovely conversation and arrived back at Bella's in a contented state. Everything was great until I tried to kiss her. Bella changed the moment I moved closer to her. Gone were the sparkling eyes and giddy laughter of our drive, replaced by a hollower, less vivacious version of my friend. I was instantly frustrated by her appearance. She seemed to complicate the process I was trying to learn by holding back, almost as if she were looking for anything other than what I was giving her. Bella lightly scolded me for holding her with unsure hands and for kissing her with hesitancy, but I was unsure. I felt like I had employed all of the techniques she'd shared with me but was still missing the mark somehow.
Friday evening, I picked Bella up and took her back to my house. The weather had cooperated, and I had things all set up in the backyard. I wanted to keep the night low-key, hoping to show her my gratitude for her patience and discretion all week, but I also really wanted to do something I was good at. I was a little ashamed of the way I was feeling, but I wasn't used to having to work so hard for something. My comfort level with kissing still wasn't where I wanted it to be. I continued to feel a little lost and confused each time we finished. There was something important that I was missing about the process, despite Bella's repeated attempts to elucidate me. I was sure that once I grasped the finer points of kissing, I would be able to kiss her and feel nothing at all. I had to keep working at it until I could control my emotions, or at least temper my responses during a kiss. I didn't even want to think about the anger that surfaced when she pulled away. It seemed so misplaced within the confines of a kiss. I idly wondered if this was a normal problem for guys or just me. It even occurred to me that it might have something to do with my lack of experience. It was part of the reason I wanted to master this skill. I didn't like feeling incapable. My overachieving tendencies aside, I was beginning to worry that this was going to be the sticking point that would put an end to the experiment.
Bella happily settled down on to the blanket in the grass. While I fiddled with the telescope, we chatted about the exams we'd written that day and about which ones were to come. Using the segue of studying, I introduced what we'd be watching tonight: first, the moon and a trio of planets – Mars, Venus and Saturn - and later, the Perseid meteor shower. I sat down next to her and pointed out the planets, all easy enough to find with the naked eye, if you knew where to look. After Bella was able to locate all three, I brought her to the telescope to show her the crescent moon that was hiding in plain sight, its tiny slice so small it appeared barely illuminated without the aide of magnification. Bella giggled and admitted she didn't believe that it was even there. When she'd had enough of the moon, I re-aimed the telescope on Saturn so she could see its rings. She took it all in with the awe and curiosity of a child, full of questions that I did my best to answer.
"It's nice to see you relaxed," she confessed.
"It's nice to feel relaxed. I don't know what's gotten into me this week." That wasn't exactly true. I knew the effect. I just didn't fully understand the cause.
Bella laughed. "Welcome to your sexual awakening, Edward. Opportunity creates hormones."
If this was what hormones did, I wanted no part of them. I loathed the way I felt this week - the lingering dissatisfaction that I could never fully shake, my distracted state of mind, the threatening irritation that taunted me at every turn. I wanted to master kissing just so I could just relax. I needed understanding to do that, though, and Bella was the only one who might be able to help me. I lay down flat on my back and looked up at the night sky. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course." Bella joined me, mirroring the position of my body and folding her arms behind her head.
There was no good way to bring up the strange mix of emotions I felt when she kissed me. I just had to do it. "What do you feel when I kiss you?" I blurted.
Bella snickered. "Well that's a loaded question if I've ever heard one."
"I'm just trying to figure out why I'm not very good at this." I couldn't bring myself to look at her, staring at a wisp of clouds that rolled by instead, hoping she wouldn't see my embarrassment.
"You're doing fine, Edward. You just need some more experience." The kindness in her voice was unmistakable. I'd already come to expect it.
"I feel like you'll grow tired of our kissing games if I don't figure out what I'm doing wrong." There was no volume to my voice. My fear prevented it. I didn't understand the fear, only the gravity of the admittance. I felt like I was suffocating under it.
She shifted beside me, sitting up and turning to face me. Her tiny hand came to rest on my shoulder, as she spoke in a soft, sympathetic tone. "I'm not going to walk away just because you're having trouble with something."
I nodded, feeling slightly unworthy of her loyalty. All the time in the world wasn't going to do me any good if I couldn't gain an understanding of what was going on inside my own head. "What do you feel when we're kissing?" I asked quietly.
She turned away from me, pulling her legs into her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Her voice wavered a little as she spoke. "I don't know… pleasure, warmth, desire."
"All normal and expected reactions." I shook my head in frustration. Why couldn't I just be normal in this one small way, to feel what I was supposed to feel without the added negative stuff that Bella didn't have to deal with?
"You don't feel those things?" she asked hesitantly.
"I do, but there's more… things that you don't feel… things that have no place in what we're doing. I don't understand them." I heaved a sigh and closed my eyes, feeling defeat settle into my bones. Maybe this was beyond my capabilities.
"Care to elaborate?" I knew she was only trying to be encouraging, but the thought of admitting all the ass-backward things kissing her made me feel left me even more overwhelmed.
"I just thought if I understood what you felt it might help me ascertain a little more about what I feel."
"I have an idea, if you're up for trying something a little different?" she coaxed earnestly. The change in her voice piqued my curiosity.
"Like what?"
She turned to look at me again, her expression, thoughtful. "I'm wondering if your mind is just working too hard. Part of enjoying another person's touch is a clear head. If you're focusing too much on your thoughts, then you aren't really paying attention to the sensations. Give me your hoodie."
I handed her the jacket, and she tucked it behind my head, pulling the sleeves up over my eyes in a makeshift blindfold. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this," I mumbled, feeling a little apprehensive.
"I know it's not what you're used to," she allowed, "but you would normally close your eyes anyway, so this isn't that different. Just ignore everything around you. I want you to focus solely on the sensations." Her instructions were so confident, so unfaltering, that I was suddenly hopeful.
"What are you going to do?" I asked, wanting her to explain her theory. I was keenly curious why she was suddenly so animated and authoritative.
"I'm not going to tell you. What I want to try won't work if you're expecting it. Don't worry. I promise I'll be gentle, and if you're uncomfortable, tell me and I'll stop."
"Just say stop?" Exceptionally clear boundaries were the only thing that would allow me to loosen up enough to follow directions.
She chuckled softly, apparently amused by my discomfort. After a moment she relented. "Sure, the moment you don't like what I'm doing, say stop. Just remember to concentrate on the sensations."
"It's strange not being able to see what you're doing," I noted after a minute or so, anticipating Bella's kiss and not receiving it.
"I'm waiting for you to relax."
I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, rolling my shoulders back and pressing them into the blanket to get comfortable. I felt Bella's caress on my wrist, and I focused on the contact. Her hand swept over my skin, gliding up toward my shoulder with gentle pressure.
"You're right. I can differentiate between each finger with my eyes closed."
"Edward, stop talking, stop thinking; just feel."
Bella's fingers slipped under the sleeve of my t-shirt, rounding over my triceps. Her thumb dipped inward, following the indentation of my bicep. I opened my eyes to test if what I felt with my eyes open differed from what I felt with them closed, understanding the need for the blindfold.
"You're still thinking," Bella whispered. The sound was close to my left ear.
I closed my eyes again, inhaling and exhaling deeply to calm myself. Her hand moved along my shoulder. I could hear the friction of the cotton as it yielded, her fingertips barely touching me. One finger followed the edge of my neckline, sliding slowly to the bottom of the V and back up again, tracing my collarbone, ghosting over the hollow at the base of my throat, up along my Adam's apple and skimming under my chin. She was slow, gentle and careful. I could see the merit in her experimentation; the blindfold heightened all of my senses.
Bella's mouth moved to my chin, moist heat and softness so distinct that it couldn't be mistaken for any other body part. She followed the path she'd just made with her finger, kissing and re-kissing my Adam's apple every time I swallowed. Once her lips reached the hollow at the bottom of my throat, she buried her lips in the cavity. I could feel her breath on my skin as she exhaled, even hotter than her mouth. With no way to track her movements, I had only two choices: enjoy what she was doing or fight it, and there was no way not to enjoy the sensuality of her efforts.
I reached out for her blindly, wondering if my heightened touch went both ways - not just how it felt to be touched but how it felt to touch. Bella's response was two-fold. First, she laced her fingers through mine and pressed my hands to the blanket, holding them there. Next, she climbed on top of me. Her hair fell forward, tickling my skin and engulfing me in a sweet, exotic aroma. I remembered the smell from when she'd slept beside me. It was even more potent tonight; my cock twitched in response. Or maybe it was simply because she was on top of me now, and I was wearing a blindfold, letting her have her way with me. In that instant, what Bella had been trying to explain for days clicked into place. It wasn't just give and take; it was also accept.
Bella's mouth moved along my jaw, slow soft kisses interrupted by her tongue every now and again. The contrast of its heat and moisture was intensely erotic. It was difficult to breathe evenly. Gushes of air left my lips in gasping discharges. Every breath I took was filled with her scent, and it left my mouth watering. I was ready to show her that I understood. I silently wished for her lips against mine to prove I could play the game with the skills she'd taught me.
Shallow pants against my neck as she pulled my earlobe through her teeth. It was almost more than I could handle, and I lengthened my torso to shift away from her, as I grew harder. The familiar tinge of anger tugged at me, and I buried it, unwilling to give it any control over me tonight. Even though I didn't have to be patient, I wanted to be, now that I understood the reason for it. This wasn't all just pointless circling. It was capitalizing on moving forward in rhythm and unison, when the moment was right.
I sank further into the sensations, just as Bella had instructed, concentrating on the tingling she left on my skin and the warmth that radiated from her touch. I could almost see the fullness of her lips in my mind, each time she pressed them against me. Her nose nuzzled into my neck, affectionate and sexy in its simplicity. Without thinking, I tilted my head back to give her more room. It went beyond a natural response; it just felt right. Perhaps I wasn't without instincts after all, merely lacking understanding and application.
Bella pulled away from me. I remained still, knowing she was coming back to me when she didn't move off of me. I hoped my restraint was obvious. Her hair fell against the side of my face just before I felt her lips on mine. They were so gentle that I didn't even respond. I simply accepted the tender affection she offered. The delicate contact was a strange combination of pleasure and burn; a slow smoldering that left my lips feeling more scorched with each kiss. I held back, waiting for her mouth to tell me she wanted something more from me. It was remarkably easy to control myself now that I understood what was required of me.
Bella's tongue flicked out gently against my bottom lip. I could see with absolute clarity how she was demonstrating all of the things she'd taught me this week, layering her efforts in a slow build toward deepening the kiss in accordance with her own requirements, thereby avoiding the awkwardness and miscommunication of some of our earlier attempts. I opened my mouth to her, subtly authorizing her plans. There was no worrying about pre-empting her or forcing her into something she didn't want, which could have easily happened if I was reading the signs wrong. I was sure of what she wanted, but this let her make the choice.
Her tongue slowly explored my mouth. I didn't try to shadow her actions since I always seemed to be overly enthusiastic and miss the mark. Instead, I let the way her tongue felt against mine be my guide. She pulled her lips away slightly, coaxing my tongue out of my mouth. Until that point, the use of French kissing wasn't immediately obvious to me; her lips were every bit as sensual as her tongue. The pair combined in such a way as to fully enlighten me. Her lips swept ever so gently across mine, leaving our tangled tongues as our only connection. It sent my desire skyrocketing. Kissing was definitely an art form, and the artist could create his masterpiece in any number of mediums. Bella seemed to be an expert in them all.
Bella finished our kiss by taking each of my lips between hers, top then bottom, and adding the tiniest bit of pressure from her teeth as she released them. It was the hardest thing of all for me to resist, and I was fairly certain that she knew that, making it the final question on the kissing 101 exam. Her hair slipped along my cheek as she pulled back. She let go of my hands, and her weight settled against my stomach as she shifted backward.
"I think the blindfold worked." She peeled back the sleeves of my sweatshirt, smiling down at me with a new respect. She seemed as pleased about my progress as I was.
"I think so. All of the things you've been demonstrating were easier to see without my eyes." I laughed, realizing how crazy that sounded even though I knew she understood exactly what I meant.
She climbed off of me and settled back onto the blanket beside me.
"When you find someone you want to be with, the whole experience will be heightened. It's the combination of the physical and emotional that will make kissing her a really exceptional experience." Her voice was quiet and almost introspective as she spoke. I wondered if she was speaking from experience or from a desire to have such a relationship, but either way, she seemed almost sad.
"So my response was suitable?" I prompted, anxious for confirmation of what I thought I'd achieved.
"You read me like a book." Her words were just the assurance I needed.
"Good." I smiled to myself. Arriving at this milestone was not direct but also not beyond my capabilities. There was exaltation in proving this to myself. I glanced at my watch. "It's almost ten o'clock. We should be able to see the meteors soon."
When I looked over at Bella, she was staring up at the sky with determined concentration. I was happy that I'd chosen something that held her attention.
A/N: Did you see Smugward there at the end? Yeah, I don't think Bella was looking up at the sky with determined concentration either. Boys can be so dense.
What do you think? Blindfold anyone? Good kissing? Want to smack Smugward? Hug Bella? Is she handling herself well under the circumstances or is she in over her head? Do you want her to lose control? And speaking of control, what is up with Edward chasing our girl down every day to make out with her? Do you think he has a clue yet? Click that review button and tell me! I'd love to hear from you.