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. I can't emphasize enough how much I appreciate these women and the care and attention they give me and this story.
This was a particularly rough week at work so I'm sorry I wasn't able to get the teasers up on Facebook or reply to more reviews...hopefully I'll get caught up soon because your comments mean so much to me.
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Dodge and Burn / Chapter Twenty-Two / Her Anchor
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She slowly blinks as she floats, surprised that every time she opens her eyes she's in Italy. The night air is warm and traced with the scent of lavender from the garden. She gazes at the crescent moon as she tries to also absorb the wonder that Edward is here in Italy with her after all.
Her fingers comb back and forth through the water to keep her afloat.
Everything feels like a dream. How is it that she finds herself in a Mediterranean villa with a man she didn't even know just months ago? He's a man who has made her believe she could fall deeply in love again, that her time to have this kind of love in her life isn't over. Instead, with Edward, her time for love has just begun.
She forces herself to remember though, that Edward is also the man who walked away. Does she dare trust him again?
Her heart is twisted in knots. Her spirit wants to be wide open, but she's afraid. Her fragility can only be tested so many ways before it crumbles.
She swims around and floats as she thinks of him-his touch, how he whispers her name just before he kisses her, the way he holds her when they sleep. His love is a powerful force, a riptide pulling her towards him.
She senses he's near, and looking up, she sees him leaning into the railing of the second floor balcony. His jeans hang low on his hips and his hair's in disarray. Shirtless, the moonlight renders his skin silver. He's watching her every move.
He is waiting.
She wants him, but doesn't go to him; instead, she floats. The water protects her, holds her, washes away the worst of her fears.
"Do you truly love me?" she whispers, too low for him to hear.
"Do you want me?"
"Am I everything? Am I enough?"
She lowers her legs slowly and stands tall in the water, moving toward the moonlit stairs. She rises from the water like a sunrise at midnight.
He watches and holds on to the railing tight.
His everything, his love…
In the night air, she thinks she hears his voice.
Come back to me, Isabella.
Please, baby, come back to me.
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..~*~..
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Her late night swim relaxes her. As a result, her sleep is heavy and dreamless. Hours later in the early morning, with great reluctance she forces herself out of bed to use the restroom. She looks out the window, and the sun's just peaking over the horizon.
After she washes her hands, she studies herself in the mirror and smoothes down her wild hair. Her eyes are still sleepy, but her expression peaceful. She hasn't seen that look in days.
Before she crawls back in bed she has an overwhelming urge to see Edward. She feels warm all over at the idea of watching him sleep. With each quiet step down the hall toward the beautiful man, her heart skips.
The door is already cracked wide and just as she pushes it further open she hears the rustle of sheets and sound of skin on skin and heavy breaths.
What?
Adrenaline fires through her as she leans forward.
Her cheeks instantly flush at the sight of Edward naked, the sheets pushed down as his fist moves up and down. She reaches out to the doorframe to steady herself. She can barely control her inner thrill at the sight of him.
She studies the outline of muscles in his strong thighs, remembering how it felt to run her hands over them before taking him in her mouth. Her head spins with the memory as she watches.
His hand moves with purpose, the rhythm hypnotizing.
Good God. This sexual creature is her man.
Is it so inappropriate for her to be watching this most private act? She lustfully gazes at his raw beauty. The fact that she doesn't turn away seems so wrong, yet feels so right.
She wonders what thoughts aroused him so powerfully in the middle of his rest. His eyes are wedged shut but he's obviously awake. Is he thinking of her?
She fights the urge to go to him. Would it really be wrong to climb on his bed and ease down over him? So wrong, so wrong she chants internally, shaking her head.
Pushing the door open further, she takes her first step inside when suddenly his movement speeds up and she slinks back to retreat.
He's moaning, low and rough, his hips lifting rhythmically. Bella laments that she hadn't moved faster, that she isn't on top of him. She could be digging her fingers into his shoulders instead of against the rigid wood of the doorframe. Her gaze trails up for a second to see his chest is flushed and his jaw tense. His movements are hard now, everything seems hard, every muscle defined.
She watches him, mesmerized, doubting she has ever seen anything more magnificent as his hips thrust up one last time.
"Isabella," he gasps. With a groan, he starts to spill across his chest.
Her hand flies up to cover her mouth, muffling her gasp.
As his ragged breathing slows, he repeats her name one last time.
"Isabella."
Her heart is pounding, her gaze transfixed. She has never been more aroused, more inappropriately voyeuristic, more shaken to her sexual core.
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As he takes a deep breath and finally settles back down on the sheets, his eyes open, and sensing something out of place, they dart to her.
He is too dazed to be shocked, too exposed to even begin to cover himself. He lies spread eagle and watches her blush, realizing that she saw the truth that the mere idea of her arouses him. He can't even be embarrassed.
He turns away for a moment to reach for tissues, but when he turns back, she is gone.
He wonders if his desire concocted her like a mirage. He could sense she was aroused; he could feel her want. As he wipes his chest, he feels no shame for her to see what she still does to him. Just knowing she lingered in his doorway gives him the hope that she's coming back to him, one small step at a time.
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Bella's heart races as she slides back under the sheets. She can't believe he saw her watching him.
Isabella. He called out her name. She smiles with a quiet satisfaction.
She pictures him in the throes of climax and she parts her legs. He knows that she heard him gasp her name. Her cheeks are on fire as she presses into the cool sheets.
Surely she has never witnessed anything so erotic. She's beside herself, not knowing whether she should touch herself and find her own relief or throw herself in the pool again. The image of his release is now burned into her memory to tease and taunt her. After tossing and turning, she finally gives up on sleep and gets out of bed to start her day.
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..~*~..
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Hours later, Edward wakes and wanders into the kitchen to make coffee. There's no sign of Isabella until he hears the front door explode open. There's a crash sounding like things tumbling to the floor. A moment later she staggers into the kitchen to drop a topsy turvy bag on the counter. When she sees him, she blushes, then a beat later waves the key at him.
"How in the world did you make opening the door look so easy? This skeleton key is cool looking and all, but it just took an act of God for me to get the door open. Didn't you hear me swearing on the porch?"
He smiles. "Good morning to you, Isabella." He takes his coffee and sits down at the kitchen table and shakes his head. "Sorry, no…I didn't hear you swearing. I would've let you in."
"Would you?" she asks, her hand on her hip, her eyebrows arched.
He wonders if she is inadvertently making a reference to early this morning and he goes with it. "Yes, I promise I will always let you in the door whether you're swearing or quiet as a mouse."
"Hmmm," she replies, quickly looking away. She heads to the living room to pick up the fallen items.
"That's some early morning shopping," he comments when she returns.
"Couldn't sleep," she says as she unpacks the brown paper bags. "That tiny market was open. Look at these plums! Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?"
"They look positively succulent," he teases. "Yes, there is something about a plum when your teeth breaks through that delicate skin to that sweet juiciness."
She side-eyes him. "You're rather provocative," she says.
He smiles at her and shrugs.
"Look here," she announces without missing a beat. "They had this fancy pants bread with stuff in it."
"Stuff?"
"Yeah, look." She tears a small piece off the loaf and then divides it in half. She gives him one half and stuffs the other in her mouth. She grins widely.
"Whoa, that's good! Yes?"
He nods and watches her lick her lips. Damn, all he can think about is sex. He needs to get a grip and get it fast. All he wants to do is bend her over the kitchen table, lift her skirt, and…
"So are you still up for lunch in Pisa?" she asks. "It's an hour drive away. You're not too tired?"
"No, not at all. I slept like a baby. Well I woke up once, but slept really well after that."
Of course you slept well, she thinks with a sigh.
"Are you too tired? We can always do it another day," he asks.
"No, let's go. I can't wait!" She reaches into the cupboard and grabs a mug. "I'll just have some of that coffee and I'll be fine."
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She glances at him as he skillfully winds the Fiat down the hill. His beard is thicker now, and his aviator glasses add to the dark mysterious look.
He looks over at her. "What are you thinking about?"
"How handsome you are," she replies.
He smiles lazily. "Well, thank you."
He looks over at her legs and his smile widens. "You look really nice today. You know I like that skirt on you."
She nods. "I was thinking about wearing the rainbow skirt, but I decided to give you a break today."
"Thank you. I appreciate that you're thinking about me as you make your fashion choices."
"But I'm onto you," she says. "You like this skirt because it's short."
"Is there anything wrong with the fact that I love your legs?" He asks.
"No, nothing at all."
"Good, because I do. I really do," he insists.
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The plan is to have lunch then wander around, but the minute Bella sees the leaning tower, she sprints from the car and dashes across the wide lawn. Edward slowly follows after her and grins when he realizes she's hugging the massive building. She's quite a sight, her arms stretched across the marble surface, her cheek lovingly pressed against the stone. She doesn't seem to notice when several people take pictures of her. She finally steps back and turns to Edward.
"I'm guessing you're happy to see the tower?" he says.
"It's the Leaning Tower of Pisa, Edward!"
"It sure is." He steps back and turns his head sideways. "And they weren't joking…it's really leaning."
"This is one of the most famous buildings ever!" she exclaims. "When I was a girl I read a story about it. My mom helped me make my own leaning tower for my Liddle Kiddle dolls. They were always falling out of the arched windows."
"I can't take the cuteness," Edward teases. "How about lunch and then I'll chase you to the top of the tower."
"It's a deal."
Before they move away, she takes the snapshot he'd promised weeks ago to pose for. In it the tower is leaning, Edward is leaning and Bella leans while she shoots it. They laugh but the result could be a statement on how their world feels right now. She wonders if anything will ever feel straightened out again.
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"Why did I agree to wine with lunch? You aren't going to be chasing me anywhere, mister." She stretches back in her chair and rubs her tummy.
"You sure?" he asks, finally pushing his now-empty plate of pasta away. He pours more wine, finishing off the carafe between each of their glasses.
"Yes, I'm sure. Actually, it's more likely I'm going to stretch out on that lawn over there and take a nap. Can you imagine the dreams I'd have sleeping under the leaning tower?" She takes a long sip of wine and then notices he's looking peculiar. There's something in his expression that stirs her.
"What?" she asks, leaning in on her elbow.
He takes a slow sip of wine as he watches her. "I had an intriguing dream early this morning."
She blinks wide-eyed at him. "You did?" she asks quietly, looking down.
He tips his hand so that the wine swirls inside his glass. "I dreamt that you were in my doorway."
"Really?" she asks, her cheeks flushing. "And what was I doing?"
He scoots closer in his chair and studies her, drawing out the moment. "You were watching me." His eyes heat up as she wonders how to respond.
"You know it wasn't a dream," she whispers.
He remains quiet and watches her squirm.
"I'm so sorry," she insists. "I swear I wasn't spying or being creepy. I just wanted to watch you sleep. Well I guess that is creepy, isn't it?"
"You wanted to watch me sleep?"
"Yes, but then when I looked in… well, you weren't sleeping."
"No, I wasn't." He takes another sip of wine and tips his head back as he watches her.
She feels his foot slide up next to hers. A current of electricity passes between them. There's a pregnant pause, as each of them considers their thoughts.
"How long were you there?" he finally asks.
"Long enough," she whispers, twisting the napkin on her lap. "Long enough to hear you call out my name."
"You know why, Isabella. Don't you?"
"Tell me," she says, pressing her thighs together tightly.
"Because I was imagining that I was making love to you."
She nervously runs her hand down her neck and rests it on her chest. "Oh my," she sighs.
"I know we're waiting, but that doesn't change the fact that I miss you in my arms, Isabella. I miss you in my bed."
"I miss you too," she admits.
"Do you still think of me like that? Do you lie in bed and think of me making love to you?"
He pushes his foot closer and his knee gently skims her inner thighs.
"Did you touch yourself this morning after you saw how much I wanted you?"
Her cheeks are on fire as she nods. "Yes," she whispers.
He leans back in his chair and takes a deep, ragged breath. He's simmering as he watches her.
She fumbles with her silverware, then takes a gulp of wine before looking back at him.
He nods knowingly. "Good. Now you know what I'll be picturing tonight, Isabella…just in case you want to watch me sleep again."
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..~*~..
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Back at the villa she takes a long shower to cool off, anything to distract her from their pasta lunch which was garnished with a healthy topping of unresolved lust.
She finally calls Leo to finalize their plans for the next day. He agrees to pick her up in the town square in the late afternoon. She wants to avoid anything awkward between Leo and Edward. She's having a hard enough time coming to terms with what's ahead of her.
His voice is deeper and more world-weary than she remembers it. Unfortunately, the way he speaks to her is a little too smooth for comfort. Something about his tone when he says he can't wait to see her. She can only imagine what kind of evening she's in store for with him.
She tries to lie down and take a short nap, but then she hears Edward out in the garden playing his guitar. She smiles, recognizing the music he'd written for her. It also seems as if he's singing the words, although she's not close enough to make them out.
The man is going to be the death of her, surely. She wonders how much longer she'll be able to resist him. There's something about Italy that brings out the passion buried inside even the coldest heart. She's been trying to hold back, but her walls of resistance are crumbling.
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For evening, they'd planned on visiting the walled city part of Lucca, and this time he encourages her to drive the little Fiat, even though she grinds the gears a few times until she gets the hang of the stick shift. She regains his admiration when she adeptly maneuvers the car into a tiny parking space right on the edge of the ancient wall. When she steps out of the car she smoothes her dress down and notices him watching her.
"What?" she asks. "Do you like my new sundress?" She turns around once and then smiles at him.
"Very much," he says. "You look very pretty tonight."
"Well, thank you," she says, feeling pleased. "I bought it for just for our trip."
He smiles and reaches his hand out to her. She takes it and they begin strolling down the stone-lined streets. They stop at various shop windows so Bella can admire what's on display. She drags him in a few stores if she's especially excited about something she sees. In one shoe shop she even tries on a pair of sandals, but worries the heels are too high. Edward sits off to the side and watches her amused as she talks to herself while studying her feet in different positions in the mirror.
On the way out the store she suddenly stops and exclaims, "Look, Edward! You should get one of these!"
"I should get a purse?" he asks as she holds up the dark brown leather bag with the long strap.
"It's not a purse, silly! It's a man-bag. They're so practical. You don't have to shove all your stuff in your pockets, see?" She holds the bag open so he can look inside.
"It's very fashionable," the young Italian sales lady with the thick accent jumps in.
He nods politely to the saleswoman as he slowly pushes Bella out of the store. "I'm not carrying a man-bag, Isabella," he says firmly.
"No?" she asks, grinning.
"No, never."
"You just passed the test with flying colors," she says, kissing him on his cheek. "I didn't tell you, but man-bags are a deal-breaker for me," she shares.
"All man-bags, or just the floofy ones?"
"All, definitely all."
"Are there other tests I must pass on this trip that I wasn't aware of?"
"Yup, a few. Most when you least expect it."
"Thanks for the warning," he says, smirking. "And if I pass all the tests what do I win in the end?"
"Oh, you'll see."
"Will I like it?" he teases.
"Yes," she answers demurely. "I'm sure you will."
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They head to the dinner place that Elisabetta recommended. Despite the maze of streets, they follow her instructions and find it without any trouble. The restaurant is larger than the one in their neighborhood, but still feels family run. There isn't a menu; the waiter just explains what they have that night.
Their patio table sits on the edge of a square and is criss-crossed with little bulb lights hanging overhead. Under the soft warm light, they drink wine and watch the Italian couples and families around them converse animatedly.
Bella leans in toward Edward. "I love these people," she says, grinning.
"All of the people?" Edward asks, glancing around.
"Just look at them…they're so passionate about everything!" She nods toward a couple where the girl's hand movements are so dramatic her boyfriend scoots the wine carafe away from her so she doesn't knock it over.
"Yup, they're your people," Edward agrees.
"I must have been Italian in one of my past lives," she says confidently.
"Oh, so you've had more than one?" he asks.
"Many, many past lives. That's why I have such a deep soul."
Edward remains quiet, taking a sip of his wine as he watches her.
"What?" she asks. "Don't you think I have a deep soul?"
"Oh, I do. So deep baby, the deepest," he says, trying to smile.
"You look sad all of a sudden. Is everything all right?" Bella asks Edward.
"I don't know," he says looking into the distance and avoiding her gaze. "I just starting thinking about your meeting tomorrow night with the Italian ex and it's getting to me. Maybe if we were on more solid ground I'd feel better about it."
"Or maybe you wouldn't," she says. "I hate it when you meet with Lauren; I just try not to show it. So if I were you I wouldn't like it either. But you know this was always the plan-the original reason I was coming to Italy."
"Maybe I should change my mind about going along. Perhaps you should take me with you," he suggests. "What if he captures your heart again?"
"Oh, handsome, I don't want you to worry. I'm not going to run off with Leo." She takes his hand in hers. "We've gone through a rough time, but you're my man. I'm not looking to replace you."
"Good to know," responds Edward. He takes a deep breath. "All the plans we had for coming to Italy together, this isn't quite how I expected this trip to go, you know."
"Nor I. But this is still pretty wonderful, don't you think?" she says, smiling.
"It is, but it could be better, Isabella. I wish you'd let me show you how."
She sighs and closes her eyes as his hand tightens over hers.
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After dinner they wander through more of the town, passing a café where a screen has been set up outside for the patrons to watch the latest soccer match of the European Championship. Edward lingers as they pass and Bella suggests they have an after dinner drink so he can enjoy some of the game with the locals.
The group sitting around them is very vocal and Edward ends up engaging in a conversation with an expatriate German at the next table. Bella listens to their soccer debate smiling, but after a while she taps Edward on the arm to get his attention.
"You know that stand we passed with the T-shirts and soccer jerseys? Would you mind if I go back and buy the one I was looking at for Jacob? I'd like to get it before they close."
"Here, I'll go with you," Edward says, sliding his chair away from the table.
"No, handsome. Stay here and watch the game. I'll be back in a few minutes."
"You sure?" he asks, looking happy to have a bit longer with his German friend.
"Absolutely," she says as she stands. "I'll see you in a bit."
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Bella only has to backtrack a few short streets before she finds the stand. She points out the style she wants to the young man working there, but as he goes through his stock he realizes that he's out of the size she needs for Jacob. He makes a quick call to his brother who confirms that he has what Bella is looking for at his location.
In his broken English, the man explains to Bella how to get to his brother's location. It sounds a bit complicated to her, but he assures her it's just a five minute walk. She sets out repeating to herself the directions over and over as she makes the series of turns. She smiles widely when she makes the last turn and ends up in a large square where the stand lines up with a series of vendors on the far side.
The brother holds up the jersey as she approaches, clearly expecting her. She happily pays and, tucking her bag under her arm, starts heading back. Her return journey is more relaxed as she takes the time to enjoy her surroundings: a window box full of flowers, a grey cat darting down a side street, a shopkeeper sweeping her front step, her hair pulled back in a colorful scarf. Bella's senses are overwhelmed, the sounds of conversation and music, the scent of baking bread and sautéing garlic, the violet hue of light as the sun falls lower in the sky.
It isn't until Bella approaches what she estimates to be the main street, when she realizes that not only is it not the main street, but she doesn't recognize anything around her. She looks side to side bewildered, trying to figure out where she is. A moment later she realizes that she doesn't know the name of the café where Edward is waiting for her and she can't remember the name of the restaurant where they dined. She opens her bag and fumbles for her cell phone and begins to panic when it hits her she must have left it back at the villa. Her heart pounding, she decides to retrace her steps back to the second stand and start all over again.
She can't be that far from Edward, can she? she wonders, trying to stay calm enough to be focused.
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After ten minutes Edward finds himself distracted talking to the German. Shouldn't Isabella be back by now? He dials her on his cell phone but it rings and then goes to voicemail. Remembering that he saw her phone recharging on the kitchen counter, he realizes that she probably doesn't have it with her. Who would have thought she would need it?
He tries to calm himself and continue the conversation with the German, but his foot starts wildly tapping as his watch passes the fifteen minute mark. Maybe she decided to do more shopping? He decides it's best if he waits for her since this is where she's expecting him to be.
At twenty minutes, his stomach starts churning and by twenty-five he apologizes to the German and rises, determined to find Isabella. His new friend assures him that he will keep an eye out for her, and after exchanging phone numbers, he promises to call Edward if she shows up before he returns.
When Edward reaches the stand where he remembers Isabella shopping for Jacob, his heart sinks when he realizes that not only is it closed and sealed up, but the shops around it are closed as well. Panicked, he looks up and down the street but sees no sign of her. He starts quickly walking down the main street and every time he reaches a cross street or path, he heads down far enough so he can try to spot her in the distance. When he gets almost back to where they entered the walled town, he heads back, searching in the same system until he reaches the café again.
His friend looks dismayed when he sees that he still hasn't found Isabella. Edward takes off again, this time in a jog venturing deeper into the town center as he calls out her name. The entire time, he chastises himself. How could he have let her go off alone? It's getting dark and he has no way to find her. The effect of the wine has completely worn off as he picks up speed. He's never felt more sober.
Once he thinks he sees a glimpse of her and runs at full speed, but when approaches the woman he realizes it isn't her and he almost keels over in disappointment. He runs the opposite direction.
"Isabella," he calls out in a panic.
As he runs, his mind races about how he can get help. He decides to get back to the café and have the owner, a kind-faced older man, help him call the police. He runs back toward the main street taking a path further north. The route curves to the left and he passes through a large square with a church. He almost stumbles when he sees a panicked woman pacing the church stairs as she clutches a bag. Her eyes wild, she's obviously terrified.
"Isabella!"
He runs full speed to her and as he gets to her she drops her bag, and falls into his arms.
"Edward," she sobs. "I got lost…so lost."
He holds her tightly against his chest. "I know, baby, I know. I've been looking everywhere for you." He gasps, trying to catch his breath.
"I was starting to think I wasn't going to find you, get back to you," she cries. "It's getting dark, Edward. What would we've done? I didn't even have my stupid phone."
"It's okay," he assures you. "I found you. That's what matters."
"But what if…" she starts.
"Shhhh," he says softly, rocking her in his arms. "Nothing bad would've happened. Besides, you're okay, and you're with me now."
She trembles, the tears still flowing. "I always want to be with you. Don't leave me again, Edward. Please don't leave me."
As he wraps his arm over her shoulder so they can start the walk back to the café, he doesn't remind her that this time she was the one that wandered off. He knows that's not what she really meant anyway. Getting lost has stirred up her greatest fears. Instead, his heart aches as he thinks about her despair and the way she begged him to never leave again, not just now, but the evening of their fight.
"Never," he says softly as he pulls her along. "I'm not leaving, and I'm never letting you wander off again. You're stuck with me, baby."
She sighs and leans into him as they finally reach the main street. He kisses her on the forehead and guides them back to the café so he can let his friend know all is well. Reoriented, they make it back to their car and Bella hands Edward the car keys, having no intention of driving after her ordeal.
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Back in the villa, as they get ready for bed they're silent, each processing their fears of the implications of her wandering and confusion. He reminds himself that she was disoriented with jet lag, having not fully caught up on her sleep. She'd also had too much wine and the sun was falling, rendering everything different from when they had entered the walls.
She's okay, she's okay, he repeats to himself over and over.
When she shows up wearing her nightgown in his doorway, he feels relieved.
"Can I?" she asks, pointing towards the bed. "I don't want to be alone tonight."
"Of course," he assures her, pulling back the covers on her side of the bed.
She crawls in and turns on her side toward him. Her eyes are still haunted and it weighs heavy on his heart.
"I just need to have you near," she says softly.
He wonders if she's concerned he won't be able to control himself. He knows it's important that she feel at ease.
"I want you near, too. And don't worry; there won't be a repeat performance of last night. Well, not tonight anyway," Edward says.
Her smile is weak, but she smiles none the less. "That's probably for the better tonight. Thank you, Edward."
"Sure. You know I want to take care of you." He reaches over and pulls her close, tucking her under his arm.
She sighs. "I know, and I love you for it. And if it's all right I'll take a raincheck on that repeat performance. I really don't want to miss the encore."
"You've got a deal," he says, finally feeling her relax, her cheek on his chest. Despite their ordeal, and even though they won't be making love tonight, he's so happy to have her in his bed. He gently runs his fingertips back and forth across her back.
A minute later he glances down to see her eyes closed, her breathing a cadence of even breaths. His spirits are bolstered to realize that she needs to be near him, and that gives him hope that her hesitancy with him will be over soon.
"I love you, Isabella," he whispers.
As he holds her he imagines she's his mermaid diving into dreamland, lingering somewhere between the waking world and the mystical oceans of her otherworld.
He's her anchor, and he'll never let her drift away again.
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Thanks so much for reading. I love hearing from you...
xoxo
abbie
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