Thanks to my awesome betas! I couldn't do it without you... Blynn practically flags me until I write and Adrena finds ALL my many mistakes.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of the characters. I do however own White Carpet and Wall Sconces.

Bella's Point of View

The morning passed faster than I thought it would. Edward's father had an incredible collection of books in his library. There were so many, in fact, that they were catalogued. I honestly, had no idea where to begin. Jasper seemed to be just as awed as I was which I found a bit surprising. He hadn't struck me as the book worm type. Dr. Cullen, or Carlisle as I'd been told to call him, told us to make ourselves comfortable, and asked Rosalie to join him in his office. Jasper snickered as she left. I smacked his arm.

"Come on, total innuendo," he drawled. I rolled my eyes.

"That's Alice's dad," I reminded him. He shuddered visibly.

"Well played, Miss. Swan," he replied, pulling a book on the civil war off of the shelf and cracking it open.

"History?" I asked, curious.

"Fuckin' fascinating," he replied, flipping through the book intently.

"But you're a psyche major."

He nodded slowly. "Mhm," he confirmed. "Figured there was a nice career ahead of me in psyche. I don't want to teach, and I didn't know what else I could do with a history degree." He shrugged. "Plus, I'm pretty good at reading people. Psychology is probably a good field for me to explore."

I smiled at him and peeked over the book to see what he was reading. "Come sit," he told me, leading me to the couch and settling himself into the corner. I curled my feet up underneath me and he placed the book half on my lap. For the next hour and a half, Jasper elaborated on themes shown throughout the book, and I marveled at his passion for the time period.

When we finally looked up to realize how much time had passed, Rosalie was finally coming back into the library. Her eyes were a bit red around the edges, and her hair a tiny bit frizzy along the hairline, but for the most part she looked composed. It didn't escape either one of us that she had been crying though.

"What's the verdict?" Jasper asked, looking up and closing the book.

"Don't you two look cozy," she sneered. I rolled my eyes at her.

"Whatever, Rose," Jasper replied in an offhand manner. She plunked herself down unceremoniously on the sofa opposite us.

"Nothing that I didn't know before, I guess," she whispered. I met her icy, blue eyes and cringed inwardly at the pain radiating from them.

"There's nothing that can be done?" I asked, picking a thread on the hem of my sweater absentmindedly.

"Of course there are things that can be done," she sighed, rolling her eyes at my apparent stupidity. "There's just nothing I'm interested in doing."

************************************************

"Do you know that your father suggested surrogacy?" she spat, pacing in front of Alice and me, eyes flashing with anger, golden hair swirling with her movements.

"I'm sure it was just a suggestion," Alice whispered, obviously afraid to set our friend off. The Cullen's had returned home from the cemetery and Rosalie had dragged Alice and me off to have a discussion about her options, but mostly she just seemed to want to rant.

"I just want to be normal," she seethed. "I want to get married, and build a house, and have babies, and decorate their rooms and be normal. I want to be pregnant. I need to carry my own child. I need it to be mine." She stood in front of us, hands on her hips, staring us down. No matter what Alice or I said, we would not be coming out on top of this argument.

"There's nothing?" I asked, positive that she was missing something. She rolled her eyes.

"Apparently there are medications and surgeries to treat the symptoms," she muttered. "But it doesn't slow it down. The reality is, someone with as severe a case as I have, should not put off pregnancy if at all possible."

I looked at Alice, who looked troubled and nervous, and back to Rose, who looked angry and scared, and I took a deep breath. "Do you think Emmett's ready to be a father?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"Do you think you're ready to be a mother?" I asked her, waiting for the explosion that was Rosalie's temper. It never came. Instead she buried her face in her hands, her thin shoulders trembled, and she slowly, carefully, moved her head right, and then left. And she sunk to her knees.

"I'm….No…I'm not ready. I don't think I am. But if I had to be I could be." She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and sighed. "I can step up to the plate, you know." I nodded in agreement and gave her a small smile. "I'm going for a shower," she told us, standing and leaving the room.

Alice looked at me and sighed. "What will we do with her?" she asked, shaking her head. I shrugged my shoulders. This was Rosalie's road, and she would have to endure the potholes and the puddles, and all the twists and turns.

"Edward probably wants to see you," Alice told me, her face lighting up a bit. "This morning seemed to have helped."

I smiled to myself, thanked her, and left her on her own, deep in thought.

*******************************************

Edward's door was closed when I got to the end of the hall, so I knocked lightly. His voice answered from inside, and I twisted the knob slowly; unsure of what I was going to find on the other side. The scene startled me, and I'm sure the shock showed on my face but he grinned at me from his post in the middle of the large bed.

"Come here for a second," he invited, reaching his hand out towards me. I clambered across the bed and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, kissing me softly.

"Good morning?" he asked, tipping my chin to look directly at him. I smiled back at him and nodded, affirmative.

"You?" I asked. He leaned over and kissed me once more, this one lingering a while longer.

"It was definitely beneficial," he responded as he pulled away.

"What are you looking at?" I was curious as to why there were photo albums spread all over his bed spread.

"Old pictures," he replied, picking up the nearest one and opening it. He took a deep breath and smiled at me once more. "Charlotte took a ton of pictures," he said, and I noticed that his voice wasn't coated in such pain this time when he said her name. "Her parents gave them to me, after she…" he paused and took a deep breath. "After she died," he continued. I leaned my head into his shoulder and he squeezed me a little bit tighter. "I haven't looked at them in ages," he admitted, flipping to a page he thought looked interesting and pointing to the first picture. "Our first 'real' date," he said, making air quotes around real. I looked closely at the picture and giggled.

There was Edward, looking nervous and a bit embarrassed, looking away from the camera, the ghost of his crooked smile playing on his lips. He was wearing black dress pants, and black skater shoes, with a white oxford shirt and a blazer. His normally unruly hair was plastered flat to his head. "Esme dressed me," he muttered. I giggled.

"Your hair," I said, pointing.

"My mother was forever trying to get it to lie flat."

Beside him was a younger version of the same dark haired girl I'd noticed in the picture on Valentine's Day. She was smiling widely, her teeth a criss-cross of wires and brackets, and standing awkwardly, as though not quite used to the skirt she'd chosen to wear.

"Where were you going?" I was curious.

"Benefit dinner at the hospital," he told me. He turned a few more pages. "Family vacation with her family in Florida," he pointed. A teenage version of my Edward was standing knee deep in the ocean, excited grin on his face, arm around the shoulders of Charlotte, clad in a bright yellow bikini, also smiling brightly.

"No braces," I noted, pointing. He shook his head. "She was beautiful," I told him. He nodded.

"You're beautiful too you know," he whispered, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear and kissing my cheek. "And you're really cute when you blush." I giggled. This was a different Edward than I had grown accustomed to, or at least different than what I was expecting when I walked through the door. It was a pleasant surprise to say the least, but I was still worried that he would revert back to before, with the mood swings and the resentment, or worse he would ignore me.

Perhaps I should have felt threatened or jealous when he wanted to show me the pictures of Charlotte, maybe in some ways I did. He had previously had so many experiences with her that I could never give him, that he would never relive, and there were so many things that he couldn't give to me. And for a moment I was sad, thinking about all of the things he gave to her, all of the things I'd yet to experience.

All of the things that went along with first love, or true love, or real love.

"Junior prom," he said, pulling me out of my thoughts and bringing my attention back to the book. "And she did wear her hair down. I'd been trying to remember," he muttered, more to himself than to me.

To anyone else, Charlotte would have been the focal point of the picture. She was radiant, dark, tanned skin against a pale yellow sheath dress, diamond necklace glistening between her collar bones, long, dark curls spilling down her back and over her shoulders. And her smile. She looked like the type of girl that would light up a room with her smile, lift up a crowd with her laugh. There was no doubt that to anyone else, Charlotte was the star of the photo. But I wasn't anyone, and I was completely taken aback by Edward.

Even at barely seventeen, Edward was a man. He was tall, and lean, the jacket of his tuxedo stretching gloriously over his broad shoulders, his tie cutting his flawless chest in half, perfectly symmetrical. He stood slightly behind her, his hand on her shoulder, his skin so clear and white against her tan. He had obviously beaten Esme out in the hair department, for although it was shorter than he presently wore it, it was still a beautiful mess. But it was his face that drew me in. He looked relaxed, his eyes shone, even in the photograph, green, and dancing in the light. His smile was effortless, huge, carefree and happy, producing dimples in the corners of his mouth. I reached my finger out absentmindedly to touch it.

"What?" He asked quietly, laying his hand over mine.

"You look…" I paused, meeting his soft, green eyes with my own. "You look so happy," I finally said, a smile breaking over my face.

He laughed, bitterly. "I was," he replied. "Who knew that seven months later my world would come crashing down?" He sighed and traced the edge of the picture with his index finger. "That happy couple right there," he said, running his finger down the center of the picture. "They never saw their senior prom."

I sighed, and kissed his neck softly, willing his bitter memories away. "I'm sorry," I whispered, kissing up behind his ear. He closed the album with a quiet thud and moved to stow them under the bed.

"I love you," he told me, emotion running deep in his voice. His arms wrapped around my body and he pulled me tightly to him, his nose grazing my jaw line as he kissed his way up and nuzzled into my hair. "I love you so much, Bella. It's scary for me how much I love you. It's like…unearthing feelings I didn't even know existed." His breath was hot against my cheek and I pressed myself closer to him. For a moment I wondered if it was a good idea, or if we would regret our actions later, but he pulled me closer when I pulled away, and lay me on my back against the pillows.

"I know what you're thinking," he whispered, hot against my ear, his lips ghosting across my overheating flesh. "Bella," he breathed, sending a shiver up my spine. "I only want you." He placed a searing kiss to my forehead. "I love you," He said a bit louder, placing a kiss over both of my closed eyes, gently, lovingly caressing me. "You," he whispered again, against my lips, his mouth just out of my reach. "I'm yours," he breathed, finally capturing my lips softly in his, sucking gently on my top lip, teeth grazing gently on the underside. He pulled back once more and I groaned quietly in protest. His wide, green eyes met my brown ones in a silent promise.

"I'm yours," I whispered, almost too quiet to be heard. His hands traced the lines of my cheek bones and jaw, and down my neck. His hand rested on my rapidly rising and falling chest, above my heart, and he leaned down and kissed the area tenderly.

"Mine," he concluded.

I reached up, and placed my hand over his heart, feeling it pounding, the rhythmic buh-bump of all that was Edward. I smiled at him softly and closed my eyes on the moment. "Mine."

Edward's Point of View

The intensity of the moment was almost too much. The electrical current running between our bodies felt like it was both ripping me apart and holding me together, and it was scary. The connection with Bella seemed so much deeper in that moment, than it ever had before, and I wanted to both embrace it, and run far, far away from it. I chose to embrace it, or else the choice was taken away from me and I was a slave to what my body needed, but either way, I stayed. My hand was settled over her heart, and I could feel it pounding heavily. She was feeling the intensity too.

I wanted her. I needed her. It was beyond the primal need that I had grown so accustomed to over time, it was an emotional need, a need to express myself to her, and I was terrified. What we had done before perhaps could have been described as making love. It was certainly the closest I'd ever come. Ever. But it wasn't enough. She needed more. I needed more. We needed more. I wanted to make her mine, but more, I wanted to show her that I really, truly was hers. And I wasn't sure I knew how.

I had never felt so insignificant in this area. Not even when I was sixteen and looking at my first naked, real life girl before. Not even then. And I felt pretty fucking insignificant then.

I leaned to kiss her, gently, tenderly, her chest rising to meet mine, and falling again with her deep breaths. And she kissed me back, just as gently, equally as tenderly, her tiny, pillow soft lips caressing mine in the most beautiful fashion imaginable. And this wasn't a lust filled kiss, or a desire driven kiss. It was a kiss that poured every ounce of love I had for her into her, and she poured hers back and I didn't want to come up for air, not even for a minute as she slowly twisted herself underneath me to deepen the kiss some more. She pushed me to sit up and I pulled her with me, breaking us apart for less than a second to take a breath, before kissing her more firmly as I pulled her body flush to mine as she settled herself on her knees, wrapping her arms around me and tangling her fingers in my hair, pulling me closer still as I slowly devoured her, craving her, needing her more in every second.

I forced myself to slow my racing heart. I wanted to take my time, to worship the goddess in front of me. I needed to show her how much I loved her, desired her, needed her. Her lips broke away from mine and traveled across my jaw and down the column of my throat, licking, sucking, kissing as her hands rubbed hypnotizing circles across the muscles of my back. I let my mouth take over, choosing its own delicious course as I slowly made my way down towards her heaving chest. My fingers took purchase on her thighs, squeezing, rubbing, stroking in an attempt to show her what I needed.

Her hips began to move with more purpose against my hardening erection and I bit back a pleasure induced moan as my tongue darted out to taste the flushed skin of her breast. My hands drifted closer to her heat and my mouth became more prevalent on her chest as I licked and sucked through her shirt, leaving a warm, damp circle where my lips had been. She was beginning to thrust with more abandon, pressing harder into me as she moved; her kisses more frenzied. I reached to kiss her as I slid my hands beneath her shirt, slowly crawling my fingers up her back to the clasp on her bra. I snapped it open as I sucked her tongue into my mouth; her moan was muffled but loud as she clawed at my t-shirt.

She pulled back as I dragged her bra from under her top. Strapless, the girl was a genius. "Please?" She asked, still tugging on my shirt. I helped her pull it over my head and she dove for my chest, her lips playing across my pecs, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her hips still driving us closer and closer to ecstasy. I closed my mouth around her still covered nipple and bit down. Her back arched violently, pressing her chest closer to my face, her head thrown back. Her hips halted momentarily and I took a deep breath through my nose, calming the lower half of my anatomy as I slowly reached under her shirt to squeeze her perfect breast in my hand, mouth still working the other one, playing her like an instrument. Her hands went to the hem of her top and I complied, allowing her to slip out of it and press her warm chest to mine. I gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her lovingly, pressing her closer, reveling in the proximity, the heat, the love.

And then I was really getting frustrated by the stupid fabric between us. I pushed her onto her back, a bit harder than I meant to perhaps, and began peppering her perfect skin with tiny kisses as I fumbled with the button on her jeans. She reached to help me and I shook my head no, instead I took her hand and placed it on her right boob, squeezing her hand in mine. She seemed to get the idea as she began to knead the flesh, and pinch and rub her nipples. And just for a second, I stopped to watch. Because Bella in the midst of pleasure was the most stunning sight my eyes had ever had the pleasure to take in. Her fingers worked expertly, perking and plumping and squeezing. Her eyes were squeezed shut to the sensations. I kissed her belly button, and began slowly tugging her jeans down her legs, letting my nose trail south as I went.

She was wet. I was hard and she was wet, and she was wearing a sexy, purple satin thong and I was salivating. I blew on the damp patch and her hips jerked towards the ceiling. My hands were settled just above her knees and I slowly dipped down, running my tongue along the inside of her thigh. Her hands had stopped moving and were lying at her sides. Her head was tight to the bed, eyes screwed shut.

"Bella, look at me," I whispered into the soft, warm flesh of her thigh. Her dark eyes met mine, wide with excitement. I feel my teeth dig into her inner thigh, and her body jumps at the sensation. My cock jerks in painful arousal and I continue my ascent towards the Promised Land. My hand moves of its own accord to her breast, cupping it, squeezing it, and pulling her nipple. My name falls from her lips, quiet but full of need. I resist the urge to rip my pants off and plunge into her. Instead I move my hands to her prefect, round ass and squeeze as her hips start to move towards my awaiting mouth. I glanced up again through my lashes and see her eyes closed, the look of painful want painted all over her beautiful features. "Look at me," I demanded as I ran my hands towards her heat, swirling my fingers in satin and wetness and Bella.

I pressed my fingers to her aching clit and her hips jumped. The twisting pain of my desire wrenched through my body and I could no longer wait. I dragged the thin piece of material from her and flung it across the room before dragging my tongue heavily through her folds, eliciting an excited moan from her perfect lips. With that I pulled her hips closer to me, surrounding myself with her warmth and sweetness. I look up at her once more, her head was thrown back, and her eyes had drifted shut. I stopped the ministrations of my mouth and climbed up, propping her head on a pillow and kissing her softly. "Look at me. I want you to watch," I whispered, making my way down her body once more. And then I stop, truly stop and look and absorb all that is the perfection of Bella. The long, lean line of her neck, the soft, flat surface of her stomach, the slight curve of her hips. My eyes traveled over her arms, down her hands, memorizing every mark and line on her knuckles, the shape of her finger nails. I drifted to the center of her body. I watched her breasts rise and fall with her breath, her nipples rosy and puckered, the normally ivory orbs flushed with arousal. My eyes lingered on the area I so wanted to be, perhaps a moment longer than the others, and then my eyes took in the long lines of her legs, her tiny feet with the red nail polish. And she started to squirm under my gaze. I lifted my eyes to hers, wide, curious, nervous and excited all at once.

"You're beautiful," I told her, kissing her belly button. "Perfect," I continued, taking her right hand in mine and placing a tiny kiss on the palm of her hand. I placed her hand on my chest and covered it with my own. "Mine," I whispered, leaning down to ghost my lips over hers'. "I love you so much, Bella."

She leaned forward, her left arm around my neck and kissed me full on the lips, her mouth moving too quickly and yet too slowly on mine, pouring every ounce of her love into me as I poured my love back into her. And suddenly I was feeling all too restricted inside my jeans, her hot, needy, beautiful body pressing into me was too much for me to handle, and as though reading my mind her fingers began the descent down my chest and stomach towards the button on my pants. Her fingers were shaking but all I could do was watch as she conquered the fastenings and pushed the remaining articles of clothing down. I forced them off, trying to move enough to untangle myself from the rough fabric, but still keep Bella in my embrace. And then the clothing was on the floor, and there was nothing between us, and I was fucking throbbing with need and I didn't want to wait anymore.

I settled back on my back and lifted her to sit on my stomach, just out of reach of what we both wanted, and I pulled her towards me. "I love you. You. More than anything," I whispered, kissing her softly, savouring the taste of her against my tongue. And then she pulled away, raised herself up, and we connected. And as she drew me in, I gasped, closing my eyes to the sensation that I had been denying myself, and pressing myself deeper, feeling her hot, wet walls clamp around me tightly. T

"Edward," she whispered, almost pleading with me as her legs twisted around mine and pressed us closer together still. And my breath caught.

"Fuck, Bella, fuck," I groaned clasping our hands together. I felt her fingers squeeze mine tightly as she began to move in a faster rhythm. My hips matched hers' and I felt everything tighten I took a deep breath and forced my release back. I needed to feel this a while longer. The connection, the warmth, the love. Her head fell to my chest as she rocked harder.

"Edward, please," she whispered, and I wasn't sure if I was meant to hear it or not, but regardless I pressed up into her harder, squeezing her fingers in mine as we both climbed the mountain of pleasure. Her hips moved more frantically momentarily, and a tiny moan of pleasure escaped her lips as I felt her muscles clench around me, pulsing, as her back arched slightly, and her fingers held mine tighter still. I felt her legs pull me further into her still and I let my orgasm wash over me, my release strong, and hot inside of her. And I felt her fall to my chest, her breathing heavy, our chests heaving together from the exertion. I untangled my hands from hers and wrapped my arms around her, rolling onto our sides and slipping from her, sighing sadly at the loss of intimacy. I traced my fingers up her rib cage, slowly reveling in the feel of her, in how she made me feel. My fingers found her face in the half light and I smiled to myself, tracing every line, learning every detail, committing Bella to memory for all eternity. And she did the same to me. The soft pads of her tiny finger flitted over my jaw, across my high cheek bones. They curved softly around the lines of my eyes, over the straight slope of my nose. Her finger tips softly parted my lips and I laid a kiss to them gently, reverently. Basking in the moment. And then I pulled the covers over us and snuggled deep into the bed, holding her so close I wasn't sure she could breathe.

"That was…" she whispered, "that was, wow…" she kissed my chest and tilted her face to look at me. "I love you," she whispered, softly touching her rosy lips to mine.

"I'm not sure love is a strong enough word,"