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Stripped Desire – Chapter 21: Pigment
"You can only be jealous of someone who has something you think you ought to have yourself."
Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid's Tale.~
"Stay still, please."
"Edward."
"Just let me do this real quick," he says, stopping for a second to stare at me with pleading eyes.
"God."
"You have no idea how perfect you look," he says, smiling.
My hair is a mess, I have no makeup on, and I'm wearing a dress shirt full of creases. There's nothing perfect about the disheveled way I look.
His movements are frantic as he sketches, looking up from the paper every few seconds.
I start another protest, but he shushes me. My body aches with pleasant pain from last night's events as I try to stretch.
Closing my eyes, I let him to it, aware that I won't be able to stop it. He's almost as determined as I am.
When he's done, he comes to me and kisses my forehead.
"There. Was that so bad?" he asks, moving his kisses down my neck. I grip his hair and moan. His fingers roam underneath the shirt, finding the places I ache for him to touch.
I arch my back, and search his lips for a kiss.
His tongue is addictive. There's just something about kissing Edward that makes me lose my mind. Yes, his fingers are inside me, but the kiss is what takes it to another level.
Too soon, he pulls away.
I must make a noise of protest because he kisses me softly, licking my upper lip before drawing away again.
He accelerates his movements and my breath speeds up.
"I wish I could draw you just like this," he says while I pant, desperate, on the brink of my orgasm.
"Just… please," I beg.
When he slows his movements again, I bite his jaw.
He chuckles before sitting up to take off his pants. Before I have a chance to reach for him, he's inside me.
I gnaw on my lower lip to hold back my scream.
With confident thrusts, he builds a rhythm that pushes me closer and closer to that place I want. Edward holds my face and kisses me with open eyes while I float away in ecstasy.
When I'm back down on earth from my high, he rolls us over.
It's the first time I'm on top. He grins at me before arching an eyebrow in challenge.
Feeling playful, I place his arms above his head before moving up and down.
"Fuck," he says around a sexy groan.
My movements are torturously slow and I can see him getting desperate. He tightens his grip around the headboard.
"If I could draw, I'd draw you like this," I say, lowering my face to kiss his cheek.
"At your mercy?" he asks, pushing up, trying to get me to go faster.
"Yes," I say.
"I'm yours, Isabella," he whispers.
I search his eyes for a second before rolling over again until he's back on top, echoing his sentiment without using the words.
For the first time in my life, weekends have become my favorite days of the week. I used to hate not having much to do, but now they represent a vast amount of free time I can spend with Edward.
Still, I try to do other things. It feels unhealthy how much I crave being around him. I'm not a teenager anymore. That's why when Alice invited me for a late lunch today, and I said yes.
The phone conversation with my mom was short, so I guess Aro hasn't shown her the latest set of pictures.
I don't know what she has seen or heard, but I know it hasn't been much. Otherwise, she would most likely be here, hauling me away like a petulant child. It's an image I'm trying not to think about.
Shaking my head, I take a sip from my glass. Alice comes in with quick steps just as I'm setting it back on the table.
"Jasper proposed!" she says before sitting down.
I sit straighter while she settles in, pouring wine for herself. "What?"
She sighs. "He wrote the question on a brand new guitar and gave it to me. It looks like an autograph."
"Oh my God," I say and smile.
My response gets her going. "I know!" she says. "I jumped him and then I hit him because it was so unexpected, and I was wearing some ugly pajamas, and he could've picked a better time, but it was perfect. So perfect."
I lean back in my seat. "Wow."
She nods. "Wow is right."
"You're going to get married," I say, holding my glass up. She clinks it with a big smile.
"Crazy," she says, but her eyes betray her.
It's not crazy.
It's so right.
Some people's marriages are just meant to be.
"I hear congratulations are in order," I say when I spot Jasper outside of the restaurant. He's leaning against the wall while Edward talks on the phone a few feet away.
He grins as I hug him. "Thank you."
"Are you going to let her loose or do we have to contain her?" I ask, watching Edward out of the corner of my eye.
"We can try to contain her," Jasper says, wrapping his arm around her.
"Don't worry, Jas. My wedding won't be a Bella Swan type of event. No ice sculptures." She's joking, and on another day, I would've laughed a bitter laugh, but Edward chooses that moment to join in.
I tense. He knows about it, yet it is still such a weird subject between us. The day I showed up at his place to get drunk because of my ex is not a good thing to have on my record. He thinks I have feelings for Michael. He hasn't said so, but he doesn't have to. Now that we've become closer, I can see he was right about being an open book. I've learned to read his eyes and his mannerisms fast because he doesn't bother to hide anything.
I envy the ease of it.
"Hey you," I say with a tentative smile. He squeezes my hand but doesn't hold on to it.
Alice and Jasper say their goodbyes after a few minutes of awkward interaction.
"So… how big of a wedding were you going to have?" he asks after we start walking.
I turn to look at him, but he's looking at the ground.
I sigh. "A big one."
"Do you still want that? I mean, is that what you like?"
He's still not looking at me. As much as his green eyes used to intimidate me, I can't have a conversation with him without eye contact. It feels too one-sided, as if I'm talking to a wall.
"I had little say in my wedding organization, Edward."
He flinches. "Right. Sorry."
The rest of the journey to my place is spent in silence and with no eye contact. His hands were in his pocket for the most part, except for the occasional tug at my arm to cross the streets.
"What about his wedding?" he asks when my apartment comes into view.
"What about it?"
He kicks a rock. "Are you going?"
"I don't think so," I say, trying to not get annoyed. We stop in front of my door and neither of us makes a move to get inside.
"Why not?"
"Edward." His name is both a warning and a reprimand, and it makes him look at my eyes at last.
"What?"
"Why are we talking about this?" I ask.
He shrugs. "I think you should go."
I roll my eyes. "That makes one of us."
"I'm serious," he says shaking his head.
I step closer to him and hold his face in my hands, forcing him to not look away again.
"Do you think I should go? Or do you think I should take you as my guest?"
Edward's not the typical macho prideful guy, but I have a feeling he wants to meet Michael, or better put, he wants Michael to meet him.
"Is that why you're not going?" he asks, stepping out of my grasp. "Because you'd have to take me?"
His words make me stumble back in shock.
"Oh my God," I whisper. "I'm not having this conversation with you."
"Because I'm right," he says, sounding like a petulant child.
"You're being irrational."
He arches an eyebrow. "Irrational is not the same as being wrong."
Edward and I can spend hours bantering about anything. Most of the time, it feels like a workout for my brain. These types of arguments, however, will only leave me feeling exhausted.
I finally fish my keys out of my pocket and open my door.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't see you today, okay?" I say, half-facing him. "I'll pretend that the last time I saw you was yesterday, when I told you—when I showed you, how I feel about you."
Before he has a chance to answer, I walk in and close the door.
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