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Beta'd by SunflowerFran!
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When I awoke, the first thing I noticed was that I could breathe again, sighing in relief at the almost perfect functioning of my nostrils.
The second thing I noticed was that I was surrounded by warmth, an arm wrapped around my middle, a hand resting gently over my stomach and Edward's face burrowed into my neck. His breath pushed strands of hair against my ear, ticking it in a way that would have been annoying if it were anyone else causing it to happen.
I sighed contently, burrowing further into his embrace for a few minutes until my need to go relieve myself overcame my need to be close to him.
I gently, untangled myself, trying not to rouse him. I smiled as I watched him latch onto my pillow in my place, grumbling sleepily for a second before his breathing evened out again.
I made my way to the bathroom with a smile on my face, one that slipped away as soon as I'd caught sight of my reflection. I then thanked every single deity in existence for the fact that I'd woken up before he'd seen me this way. My hair was a mess, and looked as if I hadn't brushed it in three days – because I hadn't – and my cheek was covered in pillow creases that were in no way attractive.
The only bright side was that the redness had receded from my nose and I no longer looked as if I was related to Rudolph.
Groaning quietly at my reflection before looking away, I did my business before washing my hands and face and attempted to tame the snarls that looked like the beginnings of some horrific looking dreadlocks. It had taken over ten minutes before the knots were gone and I was able to step into the shower, sighing deeply as the hot water cascaded over my body.
I had just rinsed the shampoo from my hair when the shower door opened and Edward stepped into the stall behind me, completely nude.
"Didn't like waking up without you, Pretty Girl," he told me, his voice still thick with sleep and so erotic it made me shiver as he wound his arms around my middle. I leaned back into his embrace and smiled as his lips made contact with my shoulder.
"How did you sleep?" I asked breathlessly as his hand spread out over my stomach, pulling me closer to his chest.
"Better than ever," he said, his voice quiet, as though he was telling me a great secret and something in the back of my head told me that he was. "Let me wash you," He said distracting me before I had the chance to think about his tone.
His distraction worked.
"What's this?" he asked a few minutes later, rubbing his fingertips over the watercolour rose tattoo over my right hip.
I forced my body not to go stiff.
"A tattoo," I told him, praying that he'd drop it.
"I'm not talking about the tattoo, Pretty Girl, I'm talking about this," he said, his finger tracing the puckered line of the scar concealed beneath the ink.
"Appendicitis, I was seventeen," I replied, the lie flawless. He didn't need to know the truth and I didn't want to tell him.
He dropped a small kiss to my forehead and I knew that he'd bought it.
I forced myself not to sigh with relief.
"How are you feeling?" he asked from the breakfast bar as I gathered the ingredients for breakfast. Half because I was hungry and half to show off the fact that I made an amazing Spanish omelette.
After he'd finished washing me and I'd conditioned my hair, I'd left him in the shower. He finished while I stood at the bathroom sink, running a comb through my wet hair while watching him through the steam covered glass. I noted, as he rinsed his hair, that he had a tattoo on his left shoulder.
I hadn't been able to make it out, but something about the shape and vibrant colour tugged at my memory as though I knew it well. Not wanting to ask, I'd put it out of my mind and had instead focused on his finely sculpted derriere.
"Almost human again," I said, shooting him a smile before turning back around. "Thanks for taking care of me."
It had meant more than I would care to admit, that he'd cared to help me. Jacob was never the kind of boyfriend to buy me soup and watch Star Wars. And while Edward and I weren't in a relationship, there was something distinctly intimate about the time we spent together.
"You can return the favour when it hits me in a few weeks," he told me without hesitation. It was startling, the mention that this, (us) would still be a thing weeks from now. I was glad that I had my back to him, because the huge grin I wore definitely would have been a giveaway of how happy that thought made me.
I continued cooking, forcing myself not to turn and look at him every few seconds. I could hear the scratch of a pen against the notebook Rose and I left there to leave notes to one another and fought back the urge to look over to see what he was doing. The need to know more about him welling up inside of me.
"What are you studying?" I asked before I could stop myself. I heard his breath hitch and I turned to find him looking at me with wide, surprised eyes.
"Sorry," I said immediately. "I feel like you know everything about me and-"
"Bella, it's fine," he said, cutting me off but smiling at me softly. "I hog all of the questions, you can ask me stuff too. Today can be your turn."
I grinned, relieved and elated that I was finally getting a glimpse of him. "What are you studying?" I repeated.
"Psychology," he told me without hesitation. I nodded, biting my lip to force myself not to ask him more, turning my attention to serving breakfast.
We were halfway through our omelettes before I asked him more. "Why psychology?"
He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, looking down at his plate and avoiding my gaze as he answered. "I guess I just want to help fix problems that are fixable. I hate the thought of someone thinking that there's something severely wrong with them when it's a simple matter of a chemical imbalance in their brain."
His words were quiet, his voice tight and I knew right away that it was more than that, that there was a story there. I didn't ask though, knowing when not to push my luck.
"Favourite holiday?" I asked, changing the topic. He looked up at me, his relieved eyes meeting mine and he answered with a smile.
"You don't have to help," I told him as he dried the dishes I'd just washed. He hadn't hesitated to pick up the tea towel when I'd filled the sink with water and I had to bite back another wide grin.
"Aunt Esme would kill me if she ever found out I didn't help," he replied, packing away the final pieces of cutlery from the omelette he'd said was the best he'd ever eaten.
"Such a gentleman," I quipped back, leaning against the breakfast bar.
He turned to look at me then, jade eyes dark and wearing a wicked grin. "Not always."
I bit my lip, turning my attention to the notebook he'd been scribbling on earlier to distract from the warmth that swept through the lower half of my body.
All breath left me.
He hadn't been idly doodling as I'd first thought and I turned around, lifting the notebook to look at the incredibly life-like picture he'd drawn of me smiling. "Fuck," I whispered, my heart clenching as I realised how much trouble I was in.
"What's the matter?" he asked from behind me.
I turned without saying anything, reaching up with my arms around his neck so I could pull his mouth to mine.
He didn't hesitate before responding, opening his mouth and sweeping his tongue between my lips to taste me. It was a hard kiss, wet and fast and I couldn't help the small moan that escaped my mouth as he claimed mine.
Without hesitating, his hands moved to my waist, enabling him to lift me onto the counter. I opened my knees and he pushed between them, both of us releasing a groan as our lower bodies connected.
He dominated my mouth, biting my lip and pulling me further into his body, devouring me with a passion that I'd thought was fictional.
"Fuck," Edward groaned against my lips as he pulled back so quickly I almost fell from the counter. I resisted the urge to pout at the loss of contact.
"What-" I started, wondering why he'd stopped the best kiss I'd ever had when I heard the front door open, revealing Rosalie and Emmett.
"Fuck," I muttered, more than a little upset at the interruption.
Edward chuckled at the word and I looked up to see him staring down at me, lips swollen and eyes liquid warm.
My breath caught in my throat because that look was almost better than the kiss.
Almost.
I smiled to myself as I lifted my favorite framed art piece back onto the dresser where the television had been sitting. Emmett had demanded we put it back on account of some incredibly important football game, and though Edward had rolled his eyes, he'd done it without complaint.
Edward Masen had been a very popular Seattle artist in the early 2000s, until his death in 2008. He'd come from money but was disowned by his family, who had at least three buildings named after them on campus, when he'd left to follow his dream as an artist. I loved his work, and it was evident by my small collection. He was one of the few artists whose works had ever made me feel something and I cherished them.
"Emmett's pissed he missed the first, thirty-seven seconds of the game," Edward said, leaning against the door frame and smiling at me, jade eyes filled with amusement.
"Travesty!" I exclaimed with mock horror, putting the last frame in place. It was titled Her, and was by far my favourite painting, the giant autumn coloured rose resting in a feminine hand that was copied in such painstaking realism that made my heart swell. It would have taken hours to capture that kind of detail.
Edward chuckled and moved from the doorway to trap me between the dresser and his body. My breath caught in my throat and my body almost shook in anticipation as he moved his face down to mine.
He stopped less than an inch before his lips met mine, his body jerking away from mine, his gaze trained on the dresser, specifically the artwork there. He said nothing for a few moments before he finally moved his attention back to me.
His eyes were no longer warm.
Instead, they were colder than I'd ever seen them. So cold, I flinched under their gaze.
"Edward?" I asked, my voice soft and confused as I took a step toward him.
He took a step away from me and my heart tugged painfully.
"I need to leave," he stated, his voice as icy as his gaze.
I flinched again.
And then he was gone, leaving me alone, hurt and unbelievably confused.
I woke up before my alarm the next morning, not bothering to rub the sleep from my eyes before I reached for my phone to check if he'd sent me the message he'd sent me every morning for the past week and a half.
There wasn't one.
There wasn't anything for the rest of the week.
Fic Rec:
Kiss Me Now, Kiss Me Never by ericastwilight
A curse spanning generations for two families. For one, unrequited love. For the other, all consuming hate. Together can they break it?