12

"Your room won't be ready until four. May I suggest you leave your bags with the bellman and enjoy the day exploring the town?" says the evil cockblocking front-desk clerk.

"Sounds good," Edward answers with a tight smile. Small comfort this is as difficult for him as it is for me. "Should we go check out those bikes, Bella?"

Hey, if Edward wants to hop on a bike seat right now with that… situation going on? I'm game.

After ten minutes of fiddling with my bike's seat height until Old School is sufficiently satisfied that everything is safe and comfortable enough for me, and another five for helmet strap adjustment, we venture onto Main Street. Napa is exactly how I've always pictured it: scenic, quaint, romantic as hell. I'm dressed more appropriately for side-saddle than straddle, but Edward pretends not to notice. The perfect gentleman. Shocker.

He leads me to the river, where we glide to a stop, hop off our bikes, and walk hand-in-hand down to the bank. Edward leans in to kiss me, forgetting our helmets in the heat of the moment until they crash together with a skull-rattling clack. The straps he so painstakingly fitted to my chin are thrust apart; helmets are tossed to the ground. He laces his fingers through my hair and pulls me hard into his body, making no attempt to hide his desire. His kisses are sloppy and desperate. Ever since our car-talk and roadside pounce, Old School is not his carefully-controlled polite self. You sure as shit won't hear this girl complaining.

He breaks away long enough to wonder aloud if he can bribe the maid to get our room ready early, and I burst into giggles.

"Is this what happens when you tell the boy he can eat dessert first?"

He breathes hard against my neck and leaves one last kiss behind my ear as he regains his senses. "You know, lunch wouldn't be a terrible idea. If we stay here, I might tackle you to the ground, and that would not be very gentlemanly. Besides, I don't want to get grass stains on your pretty white dress."

"Okay, fine. But I think we should have a rule this weekend—dessert first at every meal."

Edward's chuckle echoes along the riverbank. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

.

.

.

With nothing better to do and nowhere more private to go, we drop our bikes at the hotel, grab Edward's camera from the car, and hoof it to lunch. Per our new rule, we start with a thick slice of devil's food cake we take turns feeding each other, then gorge ourselves on briny oysters and a local Merlot that goes down way too easy. We need the extra aphrodisiacs about as much as a fourteen-year-old boy with his first Playboy, but man, are we having one hell of a good time sucking them down.

Edward watches the time like a kid on the last day of school. How ridiculous is it that two grown adults are hostages to the housekeeping schedule? I have no doubt Edward will have us in our room no later than 4:01.

Our walk back to the hotel is more of a mutual lean against each other's shoulder that propels us forward only by sheer will. Our joined hands swing into a decreasing space we're more and more reluctant to leave between us. Edward snaps a few pictures on the way, but his heart's not in it; honestly, I don't think he likes letting go of my hand to hold the camera. We've waited a long time for this, and the wine has lowered any lingering inhibitions not already overridden by our oyster fest.

I'm close enough to absorb Edward's smells—the laundry soap he uses on his soft cotton T-shirt, the shampoo lingering in the silver and black tips of his hair, the scent of some manly soap on his skin. The wine and chocolate and oysters and horseradish and lemon I cannot wait to taste on his lips.

His lips, which are smiling at me right now. "What are you thinking about?"

My answer slips right out. This is what he does to me. The Edward Effect. "Kissing you."

His grin widens. "Hell of a coincidence," he says, and his lips are on mine before the last "sss" fades.

Maybe I'm reading too much into everything right now, tipsy and horny as I am, but this kiss feels—and even tastes—different. Up till now, our kisses have been the beginning, middle, and end of the story. This one, though, knows it's only chapter one. And what a compelling opener it is, with just one problem—we're stopped dead on the sidewalk. We seem to arrive at the same conclusion at the same time, breaking apart with reluctant grins.

My thoughts are going wild, replaying every sexy glance, every almost-touch, every sad shake of Edward's head just before he's hit the pause button in the past. Not today.

"Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you remember that night in your studio—"

"Oh, yes." He has a dreamy smile on his face that makes me giggle.

"Do you remember saying something about how you pictured undressing me the first time?"

It's not the happiest part of his memory of that night, and his smile flattens. "Right."

"Well, how did you… picture… undressing me?"

Even through his Ray-bans, I can feel the smolder when he looks at me, the flare in his nostrils as he breathes me in. That look crosses his face, the I-shouldn't-eat-dessert-first look, but this time, he conquers it.

His lips curl ever so slightly at the corners. "There are a few variations on the theme," he says in a tone dripping with want, "depending on my patience level… and what you're wearing." He moves a little closer, more contact, less space. "For example, this sundress…"

A shiver rushes down the length of the zipper at my back.

"I think I'd put you in front of me, both of us facing the mirror."

My eyelids dip; my breath catches. I can see that picture he's painting as if it were a photo right in front of my face.

"I'd kiss your shoulders first, then gather up your hair in one hand, baring your neck…" His gaze drifts to the back of my neck. His tongue sweeps across his lower lip. "I'd start the zipper down and watch the material fall away on both sides, leaving a swath of skin I'd kiss my way down... until I reached your bra."

A whimper escapes me. I'm not sure I can live through the telling of it. How on God's green earth will I live through the doing?

"I'd have to let go of your hair to unhook your bra. Then, I'd finish opening the zipper, all the way"—he peers around to see how low it goes, exactly—"Jesus."

As much as I love being with my well-mannered gentleman, there's something so goddamn sexy about slightly out-of-control Edward. An element of unpredictability, maybe? Or maybe just knowing I do this to him. Me. Edward's dessert.

Somehow, miraculously, we arrive back at the Napa River Inn at the appointed time. The front desk clerk slides a paper pouch with two plastic keys across the counter. Edward retrieves our bags from the bell captain, slings one over each shoulder, and practically carries me to the elevator. Pinning me against the back wall, he starts in on the chapter-two kiss, cutting off abruptly when the bell dings, to chase me out of the elevator and down the hall.

I ready the key while he presses against me from behind. "Faster, faster!" he teases, nipping at my ear lobe with his teeth.

"Not helping!" I slap the card against the lock, again and again and again until it finally lights up green.

Edward reaches around me and grabs the handle. "You're too slow."

And we're inside. My heart pounds into my throat—thump, thump! The bags slide off Edward's shoulders and hit the floor—thump, thump!

He takes a step toward me, and another.

I'm shaking. I can't breathe.

I have never wanted anything or anyone the way I want this man, and he's eyeing me the same way.

How will this go? How will Edward move? How will he feel around me? Inside me? Who will I be with him?

I have no idea of the details, but I know, with alarming certainty, that we will be very, very good at doing this together.

His hand finds the back of my head; his lips meet mine. His tongue, sweet and sexy and familiar. So good.

Deeper. Slower. Kiss, kiss, kiss, kissssss.

My whole world consists of this delicious feast of a kiss. It could almost be enough—if the urgent glide of his tongue along mine and his needy groans didn't leave me tingling for so much more.

His hand on my back pulls me against his hard body. Two hands now. Strong arms hold me, slide down, down, squeeze. Kisssssss. Squeeeeeze.

Heavy, heavy breathing. Heaving. Dizzy gasps. Spinning. Flying.

A fingertip traces my collar bone. His touch is fire. I'm burning up.

My fingers crawl under his shirt, find his skin. He gasps. Up, up, up, push away the shirt. His stomach is tan and hard. A soft line of hair trails from belly button to belt buckle. Dark nipples harden under my fingers. His arms close around me; I float inside them. Strong, sure, sturdy.

Breathe.

His breath wafts across my hair. Soft, soothing sway. Breathe.

A finger tucks my hair behind my ear. His lips are there, right at my ear, tickling. "How about we find that mirror so I can take your dress off?" His words vibrate in his chest, then mine.

"Yes."

He does it, exactly how he promised, except we didn't know he'd have his shirt off. He didn't warn me that looking into his eyes in the mirror while they blazed at me would be like looking at the sun, and I couldn't do it for very long because I'd melt.

I didn't know how exciting I would find it to watch him roll my nipples between his fingers or how I wouldn't want him to stop. I open my arms and wrap them around his neck so he can take anything he wants.

I didn't know my knees would buckle the first time he touched me between my legs, and he'd have to hold me up like a rag doll against his body while we both watched me shatter into a million pieces of ecstasy.

He carries me to the bed, and his eyes don't leave my naked body—and mine don't leave his—as he opens his belt and kicks off his shoes and unzips his jeans and pushes away his dark briefs. Waiting is not an option. I lean into his chest, teetering off the edge of the bed, and wrap my arms around his waist and I kiss his belly and lower and lower.

He moans when I take him into my mouth and he pulls my hair through his fingers and he groans. "Bella… Bella. You better stop."

I don't want to stop, but I do.

He kissssssses me again and climbs onto the bed and lowers me onto my back. Knee, knee, hand, hand, knee, hand, knee, hand. He crawls over me like a giant cat, licking and nipping and purring his way up my body. He drops forward onto his elbows and I'm under him and he's on top of me and he wriggles between my thighs and I feel that magical skin-to-skin all up and down my body. Hot and hard and ready.

He pushes up onto his palms, breaking off our kiss. Punch-drunk on desire, he checks to ask if I'm ready for this. "Are you sure?"

And I say, "Yes, yes, YES!" and he laughs and says, "I'll be right back." Of course he would take care of that because he takes care of everything.

He comes back all wrapped and gloriously erect. I'm gonna need to spend loads more time with that, but not now. We've waited long enough.

My knees fall open in invitation. His lips follow the gentle sweep of his palm up the inside of my thigh, trailing soft kisses like tiny lanterns lighting the way. He leaves one last, wistful kiss at my opening, as if to acknowledge how far we've traveled to arrive at this point.

He touches me with his talented fingers, crawls closer, and meets my gaze with an intensity that obliterates everything except what is happening right here on this bed.

He guides his tip to my opening, and there is no turning back. He enters me, ever careful not to hurt me but persistent in his pursuit of pleasure. How he achieves this delicate balance fills me with awe.

He inches forward and rocks his hips, and I rock mine. With a bit of intimate tweaking, we discover the perfect angle for both of us. He moves deeper, then back and deeper again, until all of him is inside me and I am full, and there is literally no space between us.

"Are you okay?" he asks needlessly but sweetly. I reassure him I am way more than okay.

He finds his rhythm, pumps his hips, abandons his manners. Finally. This is Edward, raw and real.

He moans; I shiver.

I pull him deeper inside me, tighten my thighs around him. He grunts, primal and thrilling. His mouth finds my breast; his teeth graze my nipple. I close my eyes but immediately open them again, because Edward's uninhibited joy is a beautiful experience, and I don't want to miss a single moment—especially this first time.

Tears well in my eyes as he chases his bliss. He tenses, gasps for a shallow breath, and thrusts into me with erratic, powerful strokes. My tears let go with his release, streaming down my cheeks. I know for a fact I will never be happier than this exact moment.

Edward lifts his head and smiles sleepily. "You're amazing," he says, and wipes the pad of his thumb under my eyes, one at a time. "Thank you."

A single, glistening tear rolls down his cheek, and I realize I am already wrong. I am already happier.

###


Author's Note: Hope you all are, too. *wink* You can thank Pa Trizia for the expanded detail in this chapter. I was going for something a mite more subtle, but you know Pa, she needed to SEE it! Too graphic? Anyone complaining? LOL!

Love you guys.
XXX ~BOH