Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Dodge and Burn.
Much love and thanks to Editor Azucena , Pre-readers BtwntheStacks and Lemonmartinis and Beta-MsKathy
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Dodge and Burn / Chapter Sixteen / Her Infinity Pool
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With their damp beach towels draped over their shoulders, Bella and Edward walk hand in hand across the sand. The night air is brisk, and now chilled from their ocean swim, they lean in to each other and hurry toward where they parked. Once inside the car, Edward reaches for the dashboard and switches on the heat as Bella turns them around to head to the freeway.
Both deep in thought, they fall into a comfortable silence as she drives. He turns to study her and her endlessly fascinating expressions. With her eyes never leaving the road, she suddenly breaks out with a huge grin.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks.
"Your declaration when we were in the water," she responds. "It was quite spectacular."
"I meant it," he replies.
"I could tell," she says happily. "The best part is that it was rather out of character for you."
"Yeah, I usually don't yell at the sky. You just bring these things out in me."
"Mmmm. I suppose I do," she says.
"What do you want me to bring out of you?" Edward asks.
She considers his question.
"Bring out of me? It's more the opposite. I'd always had this dream of a man like you who'd seep into me like a transfusion."
"That's very dramatic, Isabella," he responds playfully. "I can't decide if that's romantic or good material for therapy."
"Maybe both," she agrees. "You know I don't do anything half-way."
He nods, agreeing.
"You know those men, the ones at gas stations who even after the car is full of fuel keep clicking the pump to top it? Just a bit more…just a bit more still. That's what I've always wanted. I'm sure of it," she says, a faraway look in her eyes.
"An obsessive compulsive man at a gas station?" he teases, laughing softly.
"No, a man who wants to fill me to the brim with his love, and then keeps topping it off just to make sure I'm completely saturated with him."
"So, someone like me," he states with bravado.
She grins and nods. "Your essence has seeped into every part of me. Tonight I felt like you had stuck your nozzle in me and just kept filling me up with all your love."
He leans forward, coughing and sputtering. "Stuck my nozzle in you? You didn't just say that?"
"Oh, yes I did!"
"I like it when you talk dirty to me. When we get home, how about if I fill you up again. You know…not metaphorically."
"Hmmm," she moans softly, then gives him a sexy smile.
When he looks over, he notices the speedometer is hovering in the 80's.
"You're driving pretty fast," he says softly, resting his hand on her thigh.
"Yeah, I'm kind of in a hurry to get home."
He squints his eyes and as the cityscape blurs by their windows, he imagines slowly undressing her in the silver light of her bedroom and lifting her onto the bed.
He feels the heat start to burn from his center. Taking a deep breath, his hand tightens over her thigh.
"Me too, baby. Me too."
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As they take the freeway off-ramp and drive toward her house, Bella thinks about Edward holding her in the ocean, his strong arms protective, as if he would fight off any sea creature to make sure she was safe. She wanted to make love to him in the water, but he was too apprehensive. Now as they open her front door and he pulls her to the bedroom, she knows what's in store for her will be more than worth the wait.
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Stretched naked across the bed, she holds her breath as he crawls over her. His eyes appraise her hungrily, every muscle across his chest and shoulders tight with anticipation. His intoxicating desire, evidenced by his arousal heavy against her thigh, makes her not just feel wanted, but chosen, too.
When she licks his skin he has a subtle salty taste from their ocean swim. It makes her think of them moving toward each other in the dark, mysterious waters.
Her tongue circles over his nipple and across his chest as he moans and watches.
"Isabella," he whispers.
His hands stroke her thighs, gradually spreading her open. When he finally eases deeply into her, he's glad his mermaid Isabella has legs to tightly wrap around him, pulling him closer in.
Every movement between them is fluid and buoyant, her bed the ocean, the cool sheets rippling around them as they make passionate love.
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..~*~..
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As morning breaks they'd like nothing better than to linger in each other's arms, but Edward has an early meeting with the contractor so they force themselves out of bed. After he leaves, Bella knows she has bills to pay and errands to run before their trip to Italy, but she can't seem to help herself…she's overwhelmed with the need to create, to express visually all the emotions that are bubbling inside of her.
She heads to the studio and opens up her computer to do some research. Within moments, Google presents her with countless images of mermaids. As she excitedly scans through frame after frame, she finally finds what's she's looking for. She clicks on the rectangle and when it opens up and the colors fill her screen, she leans forward and sighs. Oh my God, this painting! She's captivated by the way the male figure holds and gazes at his mermaid. It's her and Edward. The gesture and expression are so romantic and sensual that it makes her heart pound.
She studies the image carefully and begins to imagine the design she wants to incorporate for the collage. She goes to work drawing, tearing, and layering as time passes with no regard-it's just Bella and Edward magically connected under the sea.
She does the final assemblage on the textured watercolor paper, and the muted, watery tones give just the effect she was hoping for. She takes a quill pen and in sepia ink, writes a series of words in fanciful lettering all around the edges of her underwater creation.
When it feels done she sits back to admire the work. It's so transcendent she almost doesn't want to insert it in the journal. She's tempted to frame it and put it somewhere significant, perhaps right next to her bed so it's the last thing she looks at before she drifts off to sleep.
As she holds the mermaid art tenderly in her hands, she thinks about love, and being so full of happiness that it spills over like an infinity pool. There are no edges or endings, just all the possibilities beyond where she can see.
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..~*~..
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Half past noon and done with her art journaling, she's about to head to the darkroom when her phone prompt goes off. She sees that it's a text from Michael.
What are you doing? he asks.
About to go into the darkroom. What's up?
I'm in your neighborhood and thought I'd stop at Henry's. You craving tacos?
He knows her answer before she types it in. Bella has never been known to turn down a good taco, and Henry's are great.
Oooo I'll put off work for Henry's any day. Can you get me the usual?
Sure, I'll be there in fifteen.
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Michael lets himself in and finds Bella at her kitchen desk going through some proofs. He sets the bags on the kitchen table and opens them up.
"Hey, you," Bella says happily. She gets up to hug him. "I love it when you bring me tacos. How've you been?"
"I'm good, but things have been pretty boring with all the corporate tax stuff so I thought I needed my Bella fix."
She squeezes his shoulders and smiles. "That's what I'm here for."
While she pulls plates out of the cupboards and unwraps the tacos, Michael steps over to the desk and looks down at the stack of proof sheets. He holds one up and studies it carefully.
"Is this that music guy?"
Bella nods. "Yes, that's Edward."
"You did a session with him?"
"Uh huh," she answers, distracted.
"You did charge him, didn't you?"
"No, if you must know I didn't charge him, Mr. Accountant."
He scowls. "Why not? Does he understand that this is your business, Bella?"
"Michael, he's my boyfriend," she says softly, watching for his reaction.
He can't hide his surprise. "Your boyfriend? You're sleeping with this guy? He's a married man."
"God, you sound like Leah. I wish my friends could trust me and just be happy for me. It's not what you think. He's been separated from his wife for months and they're getting a divorce."
"But…"
"I'm in love with him, Michael."
He turns away from her and she can feel his hurt even if he tries to hide it. This is the first time she's gotten serious about anyone since they broke up. Maybe he's not ready to share her. Maybe he isn't completely over her. He once told her that he never would be.
She steps up behind him and rests her chin on his shoulder. "What?"
"You're really in love with him?"
"Yes," she says quietly. "Why are you being this way? We've been friends now for a long time. I didn't get weird when you got involved with Ciara."
"I wasn't in love with her,"he says as he leans on the edge of the kitchen counter. "Look, I know I'm not the guy for you, Bella. But this guy-this Edward, I just don't trust him."
She takes a step back. "Why?"
He points to the photos. "You've hired him to play for you and now you're shooting his pictures. What next?"
She folds her arms over her chest. "Seriously? You think he's after my money or something? Do you really think I'm that undesirable? I'll have you know he has a lot more money than I do."
"He does?"
She nods defiantly. "Yes. As a matter of fact, he's the one taking me to Italy. He wants to pay for everything, even though I insisted otherwise."
"Let him pay then. If he's sleeping with you it's the least he can do."
"What the hell does that mean, Michael?"
He shrugs, frustrated. "You're amazing, Bella. I meant it as a compliment."
Her face is red and she can feel the steam rising off of her in waves. "You're making it sound like I'm a prostitute or something. What the hell? Would you like it if I talked to you that way?"
They have a stand-off for a minute where they both glare at each other, but eventually he surrenders.
He raises up his hands in defeat. "Oh please, will you calm down. I'm jealous…all right. I'm just jealous of the guy. I wish it were me. No woman I've been with since you has even come close to measuring up to you, and that's the truth, Bella."
"Really?" She asks, taken aback.
"Yes, really," he says, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh.
"I'm surprised. You never told me that before," she says.
"You know I'm not vocal about that stuff. I've never been very demonstrative. But yes, you're passionate and absolutely amazing. I'd be happy to explain why in greater detail if we can date again." He turns around to face her and grins playfully like the Cheshire Cat.
"As tempting as that wildly romantic offer is," she teases. "I'll have to pass. I'm a one-man woman, Michael."
"I know," he admits grumpily.
"But I'll happily eat tacos with you."
He shrugs. "I guess I'll take what I can get. Come on, let's eat."
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..~*~..
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Bella keeps her cell phone with her in the darkroom, hoping Edward will call so they can plan their evening.
Printing pictures of her man is enormously distracting. She keeps losing track of how long the print is in the developer bath because she gets lost in his soulful expression. The whole exercise only reminds her how gorgeous he is.
When the phone rings, she's startled, then thrilled when she sees on her screen that it's him.
"Isabella," he says happily when she answers. "I can't wait to see you."
She blushes and has butterflies like she did when her first crush passed her a note in class asking to meet after school.
"I can't wait to see you, too," she admits. "I'm printing these pictures of you and I swoon every time your image develops in my tray."
He sighs into the phone. "I feel like a kid again. We're a pair."
"Yes, we are."
"So, what would you like for dinner tonight? Shall we go out before I play for you?"
"Why don't I throw a meal together? I just want something light, but I can grill for you."
"Did you eat a big lunch or something? You know you'll need your energy since I'm coming over tonight," he teases.
"Oh my. I'll be just fine, Michael dropped by with my favorite tacos at lunch time and I ate three of them!"
"Why'd he come by?" Edward asks, trying not to make his jealousy too obvious. "Does he always bring food when he comes to work on your books?"
"No, he didn't come to work. He just wanted to hang out."
"Should I be jealous?" he asks. ""I'm not sure how I feel about old boyfriends dropping by and feeding you."
"Funny you ask that. He actually admitted he's jealous of you."
"Is that so? And how did that come up?"
"I told him that you're my new boyfriend and that I'm in love with you."
Edward grins into the phone. "So he didn't take that well?"
"Not really."
"See! I knew he still had a thing for you."
"Yes, but you're the one I want. If you were here now…"
"What?"
"I would hold you and kiss you in the dim red light of the darkroom."
"Oh, Isabella," he groans. "I have another meeting soon. Don't get me worked up."
"I'm sorry," she says demurely.
There's a long pause and all she can hear is his deep breaths.
"What are you wearing?"
She smiles and closes her eyes. "You know that short skirt you like?"
"The navy one that's really soft?"
"Yeah, that one. It's easy to push up my thighs, you know."
"Are you wearing panties?"
"Do you want me to be?"
She hears a frustrated sigh.
"Oh, Isabella…what you're doing to me. I wish I could come over now."
"Me too."
"Sometime will you let me play with you in your darkroom?"
She laughs softly. "Play?"
"I want to stand close behind you as you work."
"That sounds so distracting, but in the best way."
"Oh, I'll distract you all right."
Bella rests her palms on the table to steady herself. She can almost feel his powerful presence as if he were there.
"And this darkroom visit, will it just be work, Mr. C?"
"No, baby, I assure you it won't."
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When they're finally forced to end their call, Bella has to step out of the darkroom to refocus. She sits in the swing and marvels at this new love that's so full of passion. She's lived long enough to understand that this stage of a relationship-this kind of desperate wanting, usually doesn't last long, but right now that doesn't matter. She's determined to enjoy every moment of this time with this man who takes her breath away.
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That evening when Edward arrives she already has the grill fired up. Before opening a bottle of wine, he steps close to Bella and glides his hand down her back until it rests at her waist.
"Missed me?" he asks.
She turns to him and smiles before kissing him. "You know I did."
"Are you done in the darkroom or should we see what develops after dinner?"
"Did you just make a pun, Mr. C?"
"I believe I did. But seriously, will you show me how you print sometime?"
"Maybe," she teases.
He pulls her tight against him.
"How about when we're done out here with dinner and music, you take me in your darkroom for some friendly instructions?" He gives her a sly smile.
"I can turn on the red safelight if you'd like," she offers with a wink.
"Yeah. That sounds hot, very film noir. Red light it is."
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After they're done eating, he settles on the swing and pats the cushion so that she'll sit next to him.
"I want to play you something."
"But you always play me something," she points out, confused, as she settles onto the cushions.
"Something special," he says softly. "I'm writing a song for you that I'm going to perform at the benefit."
"No. Really?"
"Yes. I don't want you to hear the words yet, but would you like to hear the melody?"
"Oh yes!" she says, sitting forward excitedly.
He starts to strum his guitar, his fingers moving across the strings. She hears so many emotions in this music. In the beginning there's almost a sad loneliness, then the tempo and mood begins to pick up until her heart is lifted with the sound of it. She listens enraptured at all that this man has been holding inside.
He plays with his eyes closed, appearing to feel every note, and when he finally opens them again, he looks at her lovingly. She takes a deep breath and wonders how she got so lucky to have someone like him in her life.
"You composed that just for me?" she asks when he finishes and sets his guitar down.
He nods and smiles at her, reaching over and taking her hand. "Do you like it so far?"
"I love it so much. I didn't know you still wrote original stuff and then you go and create something so beautiful, just like that."
"Well, I haven't written for a long time," he admits. "This is the first time I've wanted to in years. I wanted to give you something special, Isabella. Something from me to you."
She leans over and kisses him softly, then pulls back just far enough so that they're eye to eye. "Thank you, Edward. I can't wait to hear the finished piece, with the words, too."
"Yeah," he agrees.
Something suddenly occurs to her and she grins widely.
"What?" he asks.
"I have something for you, too." She lets go of his hand and stands up. "Let me go get it."
He watches her slip into the studio and a minute later steps back out with something in her hands. She sits down close to him and opens up the folder in her lap, then pulls out a set of prints.
He looks down and sees a black and white still from the shoot Isabella did of him.
"Well, look at that," he says, holding up the print so that it catches the light from the nearby lantern. "That's not half bad."
"Gee. thanks," she teases.
He slides his arm around her and squeezes her closer. "Oh, stop. I mean, wow; the photography is amazing. You've made me look a million times better looking than I actually am."
"No I didn't," she insists. "This is exactly how I see you. You're so handsome, Edward." She slides the top picture to the bottom of the pile so he can see the next print.
"But I'm getting old. You really think I'm still handsome?"
"So handsome. Here, look at this one." She pulls out another print and holds it up. "Damn, the look in your eyes! I kept messing this one up in the darkroom I got so lost in it."
"That look is all for you. It's only for you, Isabella."'
She sighs as he kisses her shoulder and runs his fingertips up her arms.
"You bring all of this out of me. I know this sounds cliché or something, but you make me feel like a man again."
"That's not cliché," she insists. "Here, look at this one that shows more of your body. Mmmm, all man for sure. I'm going to make a print of this for my bedroom."
"Wouldn't you rather just have the real thing in your bedroom?" he asks as his fingers feather up and down the inside of her wrist.
She shivers and presses her thighs together. "I'm greedy, Mr. C. I want both in my bedroom."
"Well, thank you for the amazing photos." He starts to close the folder. "You sure made a lot of prints."
"Are you kidding? I wanted to make a print of every frame, but I ran out of paper. I'm going to go to the photo store to buy more."
"Hey, that reminds me. Please let me pay you for the shoot," Edward says.
"Are you kidding? Absolutely not," she insists.
"This is your business, Isabella. I don't want to take advantage of your good graces. I'm not going to argue with you about it. I'm sending a check tomorrow."
"I won't cash it," she says stubbornly, folding her arms over her chest.
"Woman, you can be so bull-headed. Listen, why don't you at least let me pay for the supplies?"
She shakes her head firmly. "No."
"A box of paper?"
"No."
"I'm just going to go buy the stuff then and leave it on your doorstep, and what do you bet I'll get the wrong stuff."
"Who's being bull-headed now? I'll tell you what…" She reaches over and pats the pocket area of his jeans. "How much cash do you have on you?"
"Not a lot. I ran errands today, so I need to go to the cash machine again." He reaches into the pocket she patted. "See, here's the change from the car wash."
She takes the bills that are bunched up and smoothes them out. "Seven dollars. That works for me."
"Oh, really?" he asks with eyebrows arched. "Cause there's more where that came from." He stands up and fishes through his other pocket. He grins as he pulls his hand back out with more money. "Here's more."
She unfolds three twenties and a ten. "Okay. This will do just fine. You can put it in my mad money jar and we'll use it for dinner and a great bottle of wine or something in Italy."
"You have a mad money jar?"
"Yeah, that teal one on the mantle that I first paid you from. Sometimes if a couple pays me in cash for the shoot I put the money in there and then spend it on something fun. It makes the accountant in Michael absolutely crazy."
"I bet."
"So why don't you go deposit your payment in there, and I'll bring in the glasses. Then after that we can go have our lesson in the darkroom." She winks at him.
"It's a deal," he replies. "I'm going to put whatever money is in my pockets in, including the change, and I don't want any argument about it later."
She laughs. "Yes, sir." She stands and tucks the folder under her arm then picks up the glasses.
Edward walks ahead of her and opens the door to let her in. While she heads to the kitchen, he makes his way into the living room.
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As he approaches the mantle he digs deep into his pockets. He drops the bills into the squat vase first and then empties his change with a clatter. His aim's off though, and several coins miss the rim and roll off onto the mantel.
"Aren't you done yet?" Bella calls from the family room.
"Almost," he yells back. "I've got a lot of change!"
He picks up the stray coins and notices that several have disappeared behind the collection of small picture frames, other vases and figurines. Edward starts moving things around to collect the last few coins. He shifts a picture frame to the side to find one particularly dodgy quarter and when he does, he notices a prescription pill bottle tucked just behind it. Curious, he takes it in his hand.
"Oh, will you forget the change," Bella says as she enters the room. But when she sees his hand on the pill bottle, her expression drops suddenly.
"What are you doing? What are you doing with that?" Her voice sounds panicked and it startles him.
He looks at her, confused. "I aimed poorly and some of the change rolled behind this stuff. I was just looking for it to get it into the jar."
In her expression it's clear that something's terribly wrong.
"What's the matter, Isabella?"
She takes a step closer and reaches her hand up.
"Can you give that to me, please?"
A foreboding surges through him, like a stone has just dropped into his stomach. Every part of him feels heavy and dark. His fingers instinctively tighten over the bottle as he pulls it in closer.
"Please, Edward. Please just give it to me. Don't look at it. Just give it to me."
He draws his clenched fist to his chest.
She steps closer.
"Now, please."
He looks at her and in that moment they both know the truth-that he will indeed look, and with that decision the tides of their ocean may shift irrevocably.
He hears a faint cry as he holds the bottle to the light and his fingers shift so that the label's revealed. There's a large hand-written message written across its face.
If you can't remember what this is for take the entire contents immediately.
It takes a single moment for his mind to compute the weight of these words.
…if you can't remember...
Her future, their future…could all be taken away with what he holds in his hands. His fingers grasp the bottle with such force he's surprised it doesn't shatter.
He looks back at his Isabella with disbelief, and then like the stage lights in an empty theater after the most spectacular show, every light in his heart goes out, one at a time.
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*deep sigh* trust me
and talk to me...there's a lot to discuss up ahead...
xoxo
abbie
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