13
There's a sweet slice of time after I wake up, while Edward snoozes off the rest of his boozy, post-orgasmic haze, and I get to experience a different side of him. Sprawled across the bedspread on his belly, gloriously naked and vulnerable, I certainly enjoy studying his magnificent back side, but it's not his adorable ass or even his strong shoulders that compel me to watch him while he sleeps. What captures my interest is his right hand, looser now in sleep, but still decisively clamped onto my right breast, his thumb and forefinger circling my nipple. Only in sleep is Edward entirely self-indulgent; only when every conscious impulse is shut down can he take what he wants and put his own needs before everyone else's.
He stirs beside me, smacking his lips. It's no wonder we're both dehydrated, what with the wine and salty oysters and the… aerobic workout. Management has kindly provided water bottles on each nightstand, and I lean left for mine, causing his hand to slide off my breast. His eyes squint open as he makes sense of his surroundings, which seems to go pretty well, judging by the smile that spreads across his face.
"Mmm… that happened."
"Yep, it did," I answer, returning his smile and handing him the water.
He pushes off the bed, treating me to a delicious show of arm and shoulder muscles working in delicious harmony. Graceful and unselfconscious, he leans his back against the headboard. Eyeing me as brazenly as I am eyeing him, he takes a long drag on the water bottle. "Have I mentioned lately how beautiful you are?"
"Not since you woke up."
"Shame on me."
I scoot to his side, and he puts his arm around me and pulls me against his chest. I notice I have an excellent view of… everything. "You're not too hard on the eyes yourself, Umbrella Man."
His laughter rumbles against my ear. "I hope my underwear didn't disappoint you after all that anticipation."
"There was underwear?"
He chuckles again, takes another sip, and hands me the water. "Better drink up. We have a lot of wine in our near future. Good thing we didn't sleep through our dinner reservation. I'm starved."
"So, you're saying we have to get out of bed now?" I help his decision along by sliding my hand to his thigh.
"Um…"
A casual brush of the knuckle…
"Ahhh."
One firm stroke…
A strangled, "I'm sure they'll hold our reservation," before he slides down the headboard, taking me with him. "Or not."
.
.
.
If Edward hadn't woken first, showered, and dressed before I opened my eyes this morning, I'm not sure I ever would have left our bed. He sets down his iPad when he hears me stir.
"Morning, sunshine."
"How long have you been up?"
He tips his wrist, smiling at his sexy black watch. "A while. Ready to hit the trails?"
"If we must."
"Napa Valley awaits."
"You do know I'm not a morning person, right?"
"I'm aware."
He watches with an amused grin as I kick off the covers. I can feel his eyes on my back the whole way to the bathroom. I turn and blow him a kiss before shutting the door. I hate to keep him waiting, especially since he probably needed breakfast hours ago. My speedy shower is more than rewarded by the look of surprise I get when I emerge just minutes later.
"Wow, that was quick."
"No use washing my hair when it's going to be stuffed inside a bike helmet all day."
"By that logic, no use getting dressed if I'm just gonna rip your clothes off again later." He thinks he's so smart until I call his bluff.
"True. Should I—" I reach playfully for the hem of my dress.
"Uncle, uncle! Can we please get out of here? I need food!"
If I worried that Edward might baby me on the bike ride, he puts that fear to rest as soon as we set out for our first destination—Laird Family Estates Vineyard about five miles north of us. He settles into his handlebars and flexes those dreamy muscles in his upper arms—the ones I secretly lean into when he hugs me. I tear my gaze from his, ahem, seat, to the powerful thighs propelling him effortlessly forward. The thighs that propelled him inside me last night—repeatedly.
He rides at an impressive clip, checking back over his shoulder at frequent intervals to make sure he hasn't lost me. By the time we reach the vineyard about thirty minutes later, I'm winded and more than ready to get off the uncomfortable seat. Edward, on the other hand, looks as fresh and perfect as when we left the bakery.
"How are you not even breathing hard?"
He shrugs. "I work out. Am I riding too fast?"
"No."
He unbuckles my helmet and places a soft kiss on my lips. "Why don't you lead from now on? I'm happy to go at your pace."
The bike is quickly forgotten once I get the grass under my feet again. We stroll through the maze of grapevines under the warm sun, our fingers woven together for a perfect fit. We encounter small clusters of visitors here and there, but the two of us might as well be alone on the vast grounds—or on the planet, for that matter. In the cool cellar, Edward tugs me behind a row of giant barrels, claiming if I don't kiss him right this second, he is sure he will die. I do, and—thankfully—he doesn't.
Our "informed and friendly staff member" introduces each of the five samples at the tasting bar as if each bottle were one of his own sons. My attention zones in and out during the descriptions of floral notes and fruity undertones and spicy finishes. I should probably know more about varietals and grapes, but my curiosity about wine has never extended beyond listing them by name when a patron asks for red, white, or rosé.
I look over at Edward to share an eye roll, but he is Mr. Wine Spectator: sticking his nose over the rim of his glass, swirling the stem on the counter, and closing his eyes while he swishes the wine inside his cheeks. Adorable.
Edward totally has me fooled until I catch him squint one eye open to peek at me. I burst out in giggles, fueled by all the "tastes" I've sampled, and we have to excuse ourselves before they kick us out.
.
.
.
It might spoil the mood of our romantic dinner to tell Edward my ass hurts. Besides, he'll treat me like a porcelain doll later, and that's not at all what I want. "I was thinking we could hit a couple of the vineyards a bit farther away if we take the car tomorrow."
His slow, easy grin tells me he already knows how I feel about that damn bike seat. "Sure. We can ride up to visit Duckhorn or Beringer before we head back tomorrow."
"This trip has been amazing, Edward. Thank you for bringing me here."
He curls his fingers around mine on the table between us. "Thank you for making room in your schedule for a weekend away."
"Worked out perfectly with my classes."
He takes a long sip of his Cakebread Cab and twirls the stem between his fingertips when he sets it down. Something is on his mind, something other than what's been on both our minds almost nonstop since we left the city—getting each other naked.
"What?"
His eyes crinkle at the edges when he smiles. "May I ask you a deeply invasive question you don't have to answer?"
"You want to know why I'm still single?"
"Nope, I already know the answer to that one."
There's a scary thought: Edward's already figured out why I'm not relationship material? "Do I want to hear this?"
"Sure. You were waiting for the right man to come along and sweep you off your feet."
"I see." I play it cool, sip my Cab, and hold his gaze as if he didn't just say he's my man and I am swept. "What is your question, sir?"
"I'm curious how you ended up in a BBA program."
"Ah."
"Remember, Bella, you don't have to answer."
Of course I'm going to answer. Edward probed the inner depths of his heart to answer my question and held back nothing. This is just school.
"I wasn't a very good student my first time around. I guess I wasn't really ready to buckle down and get serious right after high school."
"Not everyone is," he says.
"Something tells me you were."
He shrugs. "I went to art school. I already loved photography. It didn't feel like work to me." Ironic. School didn't feel like work to him, but dating did.
"I was a bit of a party girl, if you can believe it."
He gasps. "Shocking!" He jiggles our joined hands, brushes the pad of his thumb along my palm.
"Annnnyway… when the bottom fell out and I realized I was going to have to support myself, I decided I better choose a field that would insure me a good job. I took a spin through the career center to see who was getting hired, and it was the business majors."
"Getting hired for what, though?"
"Well, I know they're not getting hired for their hooters."
"Hooters notwithstanding, you happen to be very good at your job. You have a way with people, and not for nothing, you mix a mean margarita."
"It doesn't bother you the way the customers look at me?"
"I'd be a damn hypocrite if it did, now, wouldn't I?"
I'm reminded of my own discomfort over Edward's client session. "We can't always reason away jealousy."
"Bella, I'm not jealous of anyone. I mean, sure, I might be temporarily envious of the guy sitting on his bar stool across from you because he gets to look at you when I don't, but what counts isn't the way they look at you; it's the way you look at them." He tilts his head and coaxes a smile from me. "Please tell me you don't look at any other man the way you're looking at me right now."
Edward already knows this answer. He'd be a fool not to, and Edward is no fool.
"Not that I know of."
"Good," he says, a knowing grin slowly spreading across his cheeks. "I think you should do whatever makes you happy. That's why I was asking you about this business degree. You seem to dislike your classes so much."
"I don't think it would matter what I was studying; I'm a pretty lousy student. At least I'm filling in some of my gaps in understanding how the world works."
"Education is always a good thing, and I really admire you for going after it."
"I never want to be dependent on someone else for my livelihood."
"I understand. I admire that, too. And nobody says you have to figure out your whole life right now… or ever, for that matter."
"So, you're not embarrassed of me?"
"Why would I be?"
"Be real. You're dating a Hooters girl half your age."
His jaw drops. "You're not half my age! I'm not twice your age! That would make me fifty-eight!"
His horror over the math is rather hilarious. "Fine, one and a half times my age, but that's beside the point."
"I don't know why you'd ask me this, Bella. Have I ever given you any indication that I look down on your work?"
"Of course not. You never would."
"Because I don't."
"Maybe not now, but assuming we're together for a while—"
"Which I fervently hope we will be!"
I have to smile at his enthusiasm, despite the fact that the wine seems to have opened a can of snarly snakes I didn't even know existed inside me. "Edward, there's a very real chance I may be working at Hooters for another five years."
"Well, how lucky am I? Dating a Hooters girl is pretty much every straight man's fantasy."
"Come on, Edward. There's a difference between a fantasy and a relationship."
"Yes, and would you like me to tell you the difference?"
"Please."
"The fantasy is what happens inside your head at a bus stop, when a hot, young woman wearing a skimpy, half-soaked top tells you she's going for a job interview at Hooters. I won't lie, Bella, I was aroused."
A spike of heat sets my face on fire. He can't just sit here and talk about arousal! But he does—and he's not finished yet.
"Then, miraculously, that girl offers you the seat next to her on the bus and asks you to talk her down from the ledge. Now, she's not just a fantasy; she's a person you want—no, you need—to get to know. So, you spend every free moment tracking her down before she slips through your fingers, and you try your best not to act like a creep doing it. You find her, which is already a minor miracle, and you make a complete fool out of yourself trying to ask her out, but it's totally worth it when she says yes."
Gulp. There are no games with this man, no pretense, no hiding. Early on, I teased Edward about what he might be wearing under his superhero cape, and here he sits, revealing every last breadcrumb in every dark corner. This is how a man behaves; the others were boys.
He senses I'm not exactly used to hearing this outpouring of raw emotion and embraces me with a gentle smile to cushion the impact of his confessions. "You still want her the way you did at first, but now it's worse because you've had a chance to think about her and see her dressed up—and even undressed, God help me—but lo and behold, you discover you like her, too. And not just a little bit.
"Now, you need to find out what she thinks about when she's driving, what kind of food she likes, what kind of music she listens to, and what books she's read. What turns her on and what scares her, how to make her smile, and if you're really reaching for the moon and stars, how to make her laugh out loud.
"That fantasy is still alive and well, but now, if you are crazy lucky enough to make love to that girl, it is so much better than you ever imagined possible because you have real feelings for each other, and basically, every conscious thought you have is spent agonizing what you can do to make her happy beyond her wildest dreams. And that, my sweet Hooters girl, is a relationship."
I should probably try to respond in a semi-intelligent fashion, but what the hell do I say to that? "I think I might need some more wine."
He obliges me, as usual, reaching for the bottle and refilling both our glasses. "Sorry, did I just lay too much on you?"
"I could do with a little processing time."
"I'm not going anywhere, Bella." He leans back contentedly, wine glass in hand. "Maybe we should order dessert."
"We already had blueberry pie before our salads!"
"That was a long time ago," he says.
Yes, before he spilled the contents of his head and heart all over our dinner table. "You're on your own with the second dessert. I am absolutely not having any."
"We'll see."
###
Author's Note: Glad you guys seemed to enjoy the excruciating details of their first time (heh)! For those of you still working out the math, she's 29 and he's 43. Boom. Love your awesome comments- shout out to the one reader who seemed kinda miffed that Bella "only" had one orgasm in the last chapter. Dude. I bow down to your lover! Send me a pointer or two?
Sidebar: I hid a little Easter egg in here for my fellow Cut and Run girls... got it?
Lastly and leastly, my story, "Still Waters" is up for Twifanfictionrecs top 10 fics of the year. (Joanne Riddy takes the top 10 from each month and places them on a giant annual poll.) The website is a fantastic library of fics sorted up and down by -ward and -ella, theme, length, author... you name it. I highly recommend a visit to the site (twifanfictionrecs dot com) and if you're so inclined, you may vote once every 24 hours during the (thankfully short) month of February for your favorites. There are many great stories on the list, great way to fill out your TBR list! My fellow authors and I appreciate all your support!
Thanks for making this place a happy escape for me!
XXX ~BOH
