A/N
Thank you all for continuing to read, review, and spread the word about this little story. In May, real life goes back to normal and I will be able to respond to more of your reviews.
Huge thanks to The Twi Posse, especially, Micki_Martini for her lovely review of this story on h00rs Anonymous —link on my profile.
And, of course, robsjenn for her research, Orangeappeal for pre-reading and my beta, PaintedTeacherLady.
Please check out the ending author's note.
Chapter Twelve
The Way She Looks at Me
.
"Oh, my goodness, is this their house?"
"Yes. It's something isn't, it?"
Bella looks through the windshield as I pull into the driveway. As beautiful as their house is, Carlisle and Esme can afford much more.
"And they don't have kids?"
"No. They never had children."
"It looks like the perfect house to raise a family. Oh, that porch, and it's right on the water?"
"Yep."
"I would love to live in Madrona, in a house like this. Do your parents live here, too?"
Fear spears through me. How fucking stupid can I be? I didn't think of telling Carlisle or Esme of the little… story. They wouldn't approve. Surely, Carlisle and Esme aren't going to talk about death over dinner, but Bella might ask questions. No she won't, will she? Hey Carlisle, are Edward's parents dead? Ahhh, fuck. I'll be on my guard. God, please, please, dear God… let us get through dinner. I need time.
"Edward?"
"I'm sorry. What was that?"
"Do your parents live in Madrona?
"Um… no."
"Is something wrong?"
"Yes. I'm fine." Bella looks at me strangely. "Oh. I mean… no. I'm good."
"Boy, and I thought I was nervous about dinner."
"You're nervous? No reason to be nervous." I grab her hand and give her a quick kiss.
.
"Esme, it is wonderful to meet you in person. I can't thank you enough for the condo sale."
As I knew she would, Esme holds Bella in a warm embrace. When she does, she winks at me standing behind Bella.
"Do you know anything about the buyer? Who was willing to pay that much money? I mean… is there something I don't know about the condo?" Lots of questions and we just walked in. This is going to be a very long night.
"It's a good investment property," Esme doesn't lie.
I feel a sharp slap on my back, a little hard for a regular greeting.
"Hi folks." Carlisle's voice is overly cheery.
"Hi Carlisle. It's great to see you."
"It's great to see you too, Bella." Carlisle leans down and gives Bella a kiss on the cheek.
"Thank you, both of you, for inviting me."
I quietly observe the whole thing. This is as close I will ever be to introducing Bella to my family.
"Bella, I hope you don't mind, but Carlisle and I made a simple dinner for this evening." Esme shrugs, apologetically, "Just some soup and salad."
"Don't forget, I made bread," Carlisle jumps in.
"Oh, yes, and Carlisle's homemade bread."
"Oh, bread. I'm embarrassed to say, it's my biggest weakness. I caught the aroma when we walked in… it smells amazing."
With the promise of a simple dinner, Bella's whole being changes. Her shoulders relax and her arms drop comfortable to her sides. She is no longer fidgeting with the buttons on her sweater. I catch Esme's eye and return her wink. They are compassion personified. I am so grateful.
"Why don't we go into the living room? Edward, fire?"
"Yes. I'd love to."
"It's a tradition," Esme explains to Bella, "Edward is always in charge of the fire." She leads the way. "We set up some fruit and cheese in there. Are you a brie person, Bella?"
"Brie and homemade bread. Be careful, I might move in by the end of the night."
"We have plenty of bedrooms."
I take a step to follow, but am pulled back by Carlisle's hand on my shoulder.
Quietly, but sternly, he says, "You know Edward, at some point, you need to tell Bella…"
"I know, I'll tell her."
Dinner conversation flows smoothly between the three of them. They talk about Bella's coursework at Seattle University, growing up in Forks, and baking bread.
"Oh, no. I'm not a baker. It's really only bread. There's something meditative about the kneading, the patience to let it rise, then punching it back down again."
"You should have seen his face the year I bought him a bread machine for Christmas," Esme laughs. "Carlisle tried so hard to look pleased. I had no idea it was all about the kneading, I just thought he liked bread."
"Bread machines," he scoffs, "sacrilege."
I try to participate, but I'm having difficulty staying in the moment. Instead, I find myself fantasizing what this dinner would be like with my parents. My father, so debonair, would charm Bella to no end. I'd have to pull him aside after dinner and teasingly tell him to back off. He'd take the opportunity to tell me how much he and Mom adore her, how happy they are for me, for us.
"So Esme, how did you and Carlisle meet?" Bella asks and I'm pulled back in; I love this story.
"Well, that depends…" Esme answers, "do you want the truth or Carlisle's rendition."
"I saved her life," Carlisle says with a wry smile.
"My husband is a liar. He did not save my life; he asked me to have coffee with him."
"Which is how I saved her life." The two of them stare across the table at one another. Esme raises her glass of wine to him and Carlisle begins.
"We met on The Pedestrian Bridge…"
"The Agmen," Esme clarifies for Bella.
"I was taking a walk and saw this woman, this beautiful woman, staring over the railing, looking so… sad."
"Contemplative, not sad, not depressed, Bella, I was contemplative."
"Of course, I was worried about her. I couldn't keep walking and leave her there alone. What if she did something tragic?" Carlisle embraces a melodramatic narration. "So I stopped a few yards away and devised a plan for talking her off the bridge."
"So I'm having my moment, my contemplative moment, and I notice this man standing a few yards from me. I move further down the bridge figuring we could each use our own space… and he follows me. I am thinking, wonderful, I have a stalker."
"I had to follow her. What if she jumped? I was ready to dive in after her."
"Carlisle, there isn't any water under that bridge."
"I know dear, but the story tells so much better this way."
"Anyway, after three or four moves down the bridge, I am preparing to run."
"I would have run after you."
"I know. That's the only reason I didn't run."
They hold each others gazes for a moment. It is rare for even me to see this much affection between them. Or, maybe it isn't, maybe I just didn't notice it before.
"Well, what happened?" Bella eagerly looks between the two of them. Carlisle looks a little smug as he tips his glass to Esme, and she let out a long, embarrassed sigh.
"The wind blew."
"The wind blew?" Bella is lost.
"The wind blew and I caught his… scent." She shakes her head, "Not necessarily a wise decision on my part, but I honestly thought, this man could not be a serial killer, he smells too good."
Carlisle does a poor job of concealing his huge grin, "I think the decision worked out in your favor."
"So, I let him inch nearer and nearer. The whole encounter probably took an hour. Eventually, he was standing right next to me."
"Coffee?" Carlisle says to her, as if they are the only ones in the room.
"Coffee. That is all he said." She returns his stare and then opens it up for all of us saying, "Less than a year later, we were married. And that is how Carlisle and I met."
"And that is how I saved her life," he smirks.
"That is so romantic." Bella says, meeting my eyes.
I drift out again, wondering what story Bella and I will tell. Will we even include Mike Newton? No. We'll come up with our own story. 'Edward saved my life.'
My eyes fall to her plate as they continue to talk. Why aren't you eating, Bella?
She moves the lettuce around with her fork, but never lifts it to her mouth. There's a piece of bread in her hand. Bella gestures with it as she talks, but she never eats it.
"As I told Edward, I can't wait to meet his parents."
Fuck.
I hear Carlisle's fork clank onto his plate. Esme turns to me, with a big smile and raised brows that say, this is on you, kiddo.
I drop my head, not because I've been caught in a story or feel their disappointment, but because someday Bella will look back on this moment and feel like a fool. She will cry. It will be my fault. I can see it all in my mind.
The silence might be a split second or an hour. I have no idea. It's crushing my chest, I can think of nothing. Lord, help me.
It is Isabella Swan, Professor of Grace, who slices through the tension. "Well, I know they travel a lot. All in good time, I guess."
"All in good time," Carlisle repeats.
"Has everyone had enough to eat? Bella, can I get you anything? More ice tea?"
"No, I'm great. Everything was delicious, thank you."
We all begin to rise to carry our plates into the kitchen.
Esme asks, "Coffee for everyone? I made dessert."
We all murmur our consent.
"Could you use a hand?"
"Yes, Bella, that would be great."
Bella and I bring our dishes into the kitchen while Carlisle and Esme stay behind. I'm sure they are sharing hushed words about me.
We put our dishes in the sink and I give Bella's shoulders a quick rub. She turns to face me and I kiss her forehead. I have nothing to say. I'm sorry, Bella.
I go into the living room and pretend to scan the new books on the bookshelf. Really, I'm just waiting for Carlisle.
I feel him approach.
"I've only known her a week," I say quietly. Carlisle says nothing, but when I glance at him standing next to me, I see he is slowly nodding. He, too, stares straight ahead, feigning interest in the books.
I lean in close to him and roughly whisper my defense, "What am I supposed to say, 'Hi Bella, I know you're going through a hard time, but can you put that on hold so I can tell you my sob story?" Quickly, I look over my shoulder hoping my voice didn't carry. Carlisle looks back, too. We listen to them laughing in the kitchen. They didn't hear, but they might.
When I meet his eyes, I see no trace of the disappointment I feared. He purses his lips in a firm line, but I think he might understand that my situation is difficult, my choices necessary. Maybe.
"Carlisle, you know I don't like telling her… you know… not the truth, right?" His eyes flash—long enough for him to say the word 'lie' in his mind.
He tilts his head towards the front door, and after I nod my consent, he calls out in a light voice, "Edward and I are going to grab some more firewood from the shed."
"Great idea," Esme calls back, "let's keep the fire going."
Carlisle takes his time slipping on a jacket. He doesn't look at me again until he offers me my own, which I decline. Already reevaluating his disappointment in me, I'm far too warm for a jacket. I'm starting to perspire.
The cold wind on my face does little to dry my sweat, but gives me the air I need to take a full breath.
We walk to the shed in silence. I'm not sure what more there is to say. He's been quiet too long.
"Alright, I know it's a lie and I'm sorry for that. But, I'm doing it for her. You know that, right?"
"Oh, Edward," Carlisle sighs and puts his hands on my shoulder, grounding me, stopping me from twisting in the wind. "Let's talk about that." We enter the shed and he turns on the light. I immediately busy myself by going to the pile of firewood he keeps on a pallet. I sift through the kindling and reach for the larger pieces. Feeling each log from the pile, I collect the driest. I'm not sure what there is to talk about.
I shrug, "I don't think it's a good time to tell her, that's all. I've only known her a week." Is this only obvious to me?
"I know, Edward, you've already said that." His tone is careful. Arms crossed, leaning against his workbench, he keeps watching me. "Do you think there is a good time? Are you waiting for a good time?"
"No… yes… I mean, I think I'll know when it's time."
"And what if that time doesn't come? How long are you willing to wait…? How do you think she'll feel when she finds…"
"I don't know." I cut him off, not willing to imagine her tears again.
"Edward, I know you don't talk about that night. Can I ask… who was the last person you told?"
"Jasper," I whisper. Carlisle starts putting the pieces of wood I've gathered in a heavy canvas tote to bring back to the house.
"It didn't seem to hurt your friendship." He says this like it is an answer to a common math problem, logical. Maybe this is where I get it.
"He was already my best friend when I told him," I mutter.
"Oh." And the logical voice gives way to the compassionate one and he says, "You're waiting until you think Bella won't reject you."
"No. FUCK. I don't know." The piece of wood in my hand is perfect—only a foot long, but the thickness of the gripping end of a baseball bat. "Excuse me, Carlisle."
I walk outside and hurl the wood with all of my might towards the water. As soon as it releases from my hand, I feel a sharp stab in my shoulder, then hot pins and needles from my neck to my ribs. The stick flies end over end and I hear a distant splash. I grip my neck as it starts to cramp. I prefer this sensation to the one I felt a minute ago.
I turn to see Carlisle watching with a faint smile. "You still have a great arm."
"Thanks."
"Feel better?"
"A little." He steps aside to grant me entrance back into the shed. We aren't done.
"Sit down," he orders. I take a seat on the stool by the wood. "Rotator cuff?" Carlisle has a long history with my injuries.
"No, a cramp." He starts with firm pressure on my shoulder. "You know, Carlisle… I like the way Bella looks at me. If you could see how she looks at me…"
"Ohh… I've seen, I've seen. I've seen all night." I think he's rolling his eyes.
"Well, then you know. And I don't want that to change."
"You think it will change?" He says incredulously.
"I don't want her pity. I've had a lifetime worth of pity. Ow. And, I don't know… I think she looks at me the way she does because I take care of her, you know. I'm the strong one… sort of." Carlisle starts to chuckle and digs the heel of his hand further into my shoulder.
"Oh, great… so this is funny?"
"No. It's not funny, at all. I'm not laughing at you. I'm thinking about myself… how badly I wanted to be—tried to be—the strong one for Esme. I wanted to be the… well, the man. I thought that was what she liked about me."
"And?"
"And I learned it doesn't work that way, Edward. It's give and take. 'Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ."
"Galatians 6:2." I nod. Intellectually, I understand this concept. But, at my core, I still want to be the strong one. I can be. Carlisle starts to work the muscles in my neck, "Ow," painfully so. This is sometimes his method: the rougher he is now, the more quickly I'll feel better.
"Here's another way to look at it. Right now, emotionally, Bella doesn't have much of a choice of what she can and can't reveal—she's too vulnerable."
"She tries. Trust me, she tries."
"Well, she might try. But she isn't very good at it, is she?"
"I guess not." I don't know, is she?
"Offer her the same vulnerability. It's only fair. What happened to your parents is a part of you, but it is not all of you."
"Mm-hm." He has said this to me before, but truthfully, this is where we disagree. My past is my shadow, attached to me forever. It follows me, haunts me, and on some days, is bigger than me. A long time ago I learned I cannot rid myself of it, but I can choose to ignore it. It is only there if I look at it.
And now, both of his hands are on my shoulders. His tone is so gentle, measured; it is almost my undoing. "I understand your fear, Son." Please don't make me look at it.
"People reacted very, very… poorly. They didn't know what to say. You lost some friends." A bubble of emotion slowly rises from my stomach, I try to push it down before it reaches my mind… before feelings crystallize into thoughts-memories I'm forced to relive. "And we tried to help…"
You did help. You did everything. Fear, despair, fury, gratitude—feelings from the past crash into those from the present, churn together in my stomach, I no longer can decipher one from the other. I am falling. I don't want to look.
The shadow is here… covering me… suffocating me.
I'm spiraling. In my bedroom—in this shed—I'm spiraling.
Lord, don't make me do this—not now.
"Stop. Please. I can't do this right now," With ragged breath, my internal prayer becomes a vocalized appeal. Mercifully, Carlisle steps away and gives me time to come back to myself.
He finds his cooler, more logical voice, and gives me simple instructions: "Give yourself a few days to get used to the idea. Pray on this. You will tell her. She will understand."
"Okay."
"When you come back next Sunday, show her your bedroom. Tell her about your life here." He's giving me a deadline. "Esme and I will help in any way we can."
"I know. Thank you." Slowly, I roll my head and shoulder, feeling the muscles stretch back out.
Carlisle's face is still etched with remnants of worry, "You need a few more minutes?"
"No, I'm good. Let's go back."
~0~
I'll take Bella out to dinner, a second date. I should have a few drinks over dinner—but not too many. We'll go back to my condo; I'll be more comfortable there. I'll sit her down and tell her. It's no big deal… I'm making much more of this than it needs to be. What happened to my parents happens all the time. I can tell her the whole story in about three sentences… and then I'll kiss her. We'll kiss so we don't have to talk. That's it. We'll kiss and have wild sex and forget about the whole conversation. But our sex isn't that wild… maybe it should be. I'd like to have some wild sex right now.
"Edward," her voice startles me, her touch on my upper arm, even more so. "Are you okay?"
"What? Yeah." I focus back on the road, on my driving. "I'm great Bella-bean."
"Bella-bean. That's sweet." Her smile can't cover her wary expression.
"I think I'm just tired."
"I know. We should go to sleep early tonight. How is your paper coming?"
"Good. Maybe an hour of editing and I'm done."
"Oh, good. I have a little surprise for you when you're finished." Blowjob?
"Really?"
"Yes." She giggles at my exuberance. "Now don't get your hopes up, it's not that big of a deal." If it's a blowjob, it is a very big deal.
"Look at that salacious smile. What are you thinking, dirty boy?" I can't help but to laugh; she is starting to read me so well.
"What? Nothing." I reach over and put my hand on her knee.
"Edward," her tone mocks admonishment.
"What? It's just on your knee." I slowly glide my hand up her skirt, up her thigh.
She squeals, and before I get too far, she squeezes her legs together and grabs my hand. "Stop. Keep your hands on the wheel." I comply, but shift my eyes to catch her huge smile as she says, "Later… after you finish your paper."
Sex is the ultimate distraction. I feel better already.
"If I don't finish it, will you dress like a school teacher and spank me with a ruler?" Where did that come from? Filter, Edward, filter!
Before I can apologize, she says, "No, I will not. That is hardly motivation for doing your schoolwork. But, who knows, Halloween is coming up… you might get lucky."
Marry me, Isabella Swan.
~0~
I stand in the doorway of her little bedroom and watch her sitting cross-legged on her on her little bed. Everything is so little here. Bella intently stares at her computer screen and her ear buds are in, so she doesn't notice me. There are cds scattered everywhere. She's taking this happy iPod thing quite seriously. I notice an outfit, a work outfit, hanging on the back of her closet. My mood does a nosedive.
"Hi. I didn't see you there."
I snap my eyes back to her. "I… um… was just watching you."
"I'm working on my music project. Are you all done your paper?"
"Yep. And I brought you something." I reveal the milkshake I was hiding behind my back.
"Oh. A milkshake. I guess I didn't hear the blender." She holds up her ear buds and gives a weak smile; she doesn't sound enthused. "Thank you." Bella rolls up to her knees, takes it from me and, without drinking any, places it on the nightstand behind her. "Let me clean up my mess here." She starts to pile up the cds and place them back in their cases.
I shove my hands in my pockets and lean in the doorway. "Would you rather have cereal?"
She doesn't look at me when she says, "Um… no. I like that these are special for me. Really, thank you." She shrugs and scrunches her nose, "I'm not really hungry right now."
"You barely ate today." My voice is a cold whisper. I know I sound like a prick. But she scarcely touched her dinner—even Carlisle asked about her eating. What will Charlie say when he sees her next week? I'm not doing my job.
Though she smiles, Bella's brow is creased. "What are you talking about? We just came from dinner."
I say nothing and Bella knows why. The longer I stand here, the angrier I become. She glances at me a few times as she pretends to write something on her notepad.
"Oh, you know what," she taps her forehead and meets my eyes again, "I ate lunch with Alice while you were working on your paper." Bella moves onto her knees and begins to organize cds. "Didn't I tell you? You ate, didn't you? It was completely rude of me not to get you something. I should have…"
"You ate half of a cheese sandwich. That hardly constitutes lunch."
In mid-reach for a cd, she freezes, then sits back down and brings her knees up and pulling her skirt down to cover them.
"I don't like that you're talking about me," she whispers, her eyes downcast. I can't tell if she's hurt or angry, probably both.
"Why aren't you eating?" I aim for some tenderness in my voice, but completely fail. She doesn't answer, so I press on. "You promised to tell me if you weren't doing fine." I am a raw nerve. This day has been too long and I have no patience left. You said you would surrender. "Too upset about Alice? Is it work? You know I don't think you should go back there…"
"No. I'm just not hungry." She shrugs, and holds her knees more tightly, "It feels like my stomach shrunk… I get full quickly."
"You have to fight against that. You have to eat more calories than you are."
She leans back, grabs the milkshake, and takes a sip through the straw. She's not only placating me, there's something else here. "Edward, I am trying." She finally looks up at me, but I don't soften. Rather, I continue blinking down at her.
"I am trying," Bella's frustration surfaces. "And… I wanted to have a nice night together. And I made this playlist… and… I'm trying. And... I got you a surprise… And now Carlisle and Esme think I'm rude. And I hate disappointing you." Oh. Fuck. She's losing it. She's going to cry and it's my fault. Damn it. "I can't… can't take disappointing you."
I step out of whatever role I was playing, and leave it like a shell behind me. Before her tears fall, I take the glass from her and put it on the desk. Quickly, I lean down, hold her face and press my cheek to hers, whispering, "I'm sorry, Bella. So sorry." She nods.
I hold her face, but she still looks down. "You're not disappointing me. You could never disappoint me. Sometimes I get carried away. I get… I get carried away with worry… and I sound like a douche." I hoped my word choice would bring on a laugh, but it doesn't. I tilt her head up. No tears. "Yell at me. Tell me when I'm sounding like that."
Bella nods, but the aura of hurt still surrounds her. Was this a fight? I don't know. "Bella, tell me we're okay."
"We're okay," she attempts a smile for my benefit.
"Carlisle and Esme didn't notice anything. It's just me worrying. You know I worry because I care about you, right?"
Bella sniffles and nods before saying, "I do. And you know I care about you too, right?"
"I do."
Bella pats the bed in front of her, and I sit down.
"Talk to me."
"I don't know. Trying to eat has been harder than I thought it would be. But I'll figure it out. Let me figure it out. I can handle it, alright?"
I look into her eyes and realize that, no matter what I am really feeling, there is only one correct response, "Alright." After planting a kiss on the side of her mouth, I whisper in her ear, "You are so tough, Isabella Swan." So tough, you're driving me insane.
I feel her smile and she drags her lips along my face until she reaches my mouth and kisses me. Her lips are gentle but wanting, open, wet.
"Promise you won't get so tough you shut me out."
"I won't. I promise." Now I'm kissing her. Single, soft kisses as I lay her back on the bed. Sweet, wet kisses. The sound of our mouths is as arousing as her taste.
Continuing to kiss her as I climb further onto the bed, I reach down into my pants and adjust my growing erection. And then my hands are on either side of her and I'm lowering myself to kiss her again.
Her hands on my chest halt me, "Wait." Wait?
"We should… um…" She looks around, for what, I don't know. Please not the lamp, you look so pretty in this light. "There's music… and a surprise." Blowjob? "Edward, I had things planned out. Please, patience is a virtue."
"Touché." I give her a quick peck. "You're killing me Bella."
I crawl off the bed. With urgency, Bella grabs her laptop presses some keys and looks down at my iPod. "Hold on… I just need to do a couple of things."
"I have an idea. Let's have a complete do-over."
"Do-over?"
"Yeah." I take the milkshake and leave the bedroom. I put the glass down and from outside the door I say, "Let me know when you're ready." Come on, Edward make her laugh.
"Ready."
I take a single, wide step into the doorway, raise my arms in victory and say, "I finished my paper. Let's have sex." Bella laughs. Thank you, God.
"That sounds great. But first… um… Edward, I'm not really hungry, but I should eat a little something. Would you share a milkshake with me?" She's trying. She's really trying. I want to ask her if she's doing this for her or for me, but really, I don't care.
"Yes. Half a milkshake coming right up." Bella mirrors my wide smile.
I take two new glasses out of the cupboard and split the milkshake between them. I bend down to see the glasses at eye-level, and carefully go back and forth filling each glass until they are even.
When I return to the bedroom, there is a small, silver Nordstrom bag on Bella's bed. Blowjobs from Nordstrom? No, it's a tie. The bag is the right size for a tie. I'll wear it everyday.
Bella takes the glass and a long sip through the straw, "Delicious, thank you."
She nudges the bag towards me and I sit on the edge of the bed. "When did you go to Nordstrom?"
"Oh… I didn't. It's not from Nordstrom. I didn't have any wrapping paper or gift bags. This was the prettiest shopping bag I had so…" Her voice trails off and she shrugs. I reach for it, and she snatches the bag back, "It's really nothing… it's not a big deal… I hope I didn't build it up too…"
"Hand it over, Swan." She smiles and slides it back across the bed to me. Somehow I know that anything that is in this bag will be better than a blowjob. I reach my hand in, but watch her anxious face, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. I'm surprised to find the crinkle of cellophane.
I want to guess, but I have no clue. "What did you do?"
"Nothing, just open it… look at it… whatever."
I pull the contents out of the bag. Three pairs of hospital socks. Three pairs of hermetically sealed hospital socks. I'm speechless.
"You see. It's not a big deal. I found Nurse Siobhan from Emergency. And, um… she gave them to me, for you."
"I…" I shake my head to clear away dark memories and try again. "I… " My eyes begin to burn. I swallow and try to fight off the tears. It's stupid. I'm so stupid.
I'm falling again—dizzy. I get the words out before it's too late, "I love them. Thank you. It's the nicest gift I've ever received."
I close my eyes and wait for Bella to say something pithy or snarky, something to cut through the heavy air, because I have nothing. Instead I feel her gentle hands on my face, her forehead pressed against mine.
I hear her soft voice, "Edward, what's going on? Please tell me."
I want to be the strong one. And it is the raging sixteen year old who saves me, 'Don't cry, you pussy. Pull it together.'
"It's nothing… I love them." She searches my eyes a little too long. "Really. It's just been a crazy day." Her thumbs are under my eyes, as if she's wiping tears, but there are no tears. Are you looking for tears? There will be no tears.
Pulling away, I start to open one of the bags. I want to put them on right now, show her how much I love them. And I need to move, move away from her touch, away from her pity.
"You're putting them on right now?"
"Yes. That's how much I love them," I say slipping them on. I stand and show them off like I'm Vanna White showing a letter. "What do we think?" Please laugh, Bella. Please stop looking so concerned. I wiggle my toes. "Well? Don't like them with these pants?"
Bella reaches out and grabs my hand. She rubs her thumb over my knuckles, pulls my hand to her mouth, and plants a soft kiss. "I'm glad you like them, Edward."
Desperate to divert her train of thought, I enthusiastically say, "I love them, they're great. And I believe our night isn't over. You mentioned something about music. I am open to whatever you picked for tonight's selection. Lay it on me." The shy smile lets me know we can move on.
"Well, I… um… want to dance."
"Dance?"
"Yeah," the smile grows. "This morning, I saw that you have a playlist titled, Dance, and I got curious and excited and I've been thinking about dancing with you ever since."
"Dance." Bella, this is one of my only skills. I want to dance with her so badly, there are no words.
"Um… yeah, dance. You have really good songs in there—like things written after 1975. Your workout playlist is really good, too."
I turn my wrist so it is my hand holding hers instead of hers holding mine, "Ms. Swan, I thought you would never ask." The bright pink that flushes her cheeks is so girlish, I almost feel lecherous. "Please dance with me, Isabella."
"Oh, um… okay." She's flustered, sincerely flustered and I am feeling like the man. "I don't have speakers or anything. It's just from my mac."
"Your song choice. What will it be? Sinatra? Johnny Mathis? Nat King Cole?"
As I hold one hand, Bella scrolls through her playlist with the other. "It's the new Sinatra," she giggles. My confusion must be evident. Bella continues, "You'll see, it's only a couple of years old." The synthesized percussion squeezes its way out of her laptop. "Good, right?"
"Very good. Come here, sexy." I pull her up and hold her firmly to my proud chest. Small movements—I rock her with me in small movements.
Yeah I'm out that Brooklyn, now I'm down in Tribeca.
Right next to DeNiro, but I'll be hood forever
I'm the new Sinatra, and since I made it here
I can make it anywhere
"Jay-Z on your iPod."
"Don't forget Alicia Keys, she makes the song."
"Edward, will you be hood forever?"
"This white boy is so hood Bella, it would scare you. Didn't you see my colors back at the condo."
"Must have missed them. Are you a Crip or Blood?
"Both. That's how hood I am. Oh. And I'm a Latin King."
One hand on the small of her back and the other is holding hers. I feel her hand move from my shoulder to the nape of my neck as I move her with me in small, perfect rhythmic steps. Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for my kick-ass dancing abilities. Never in my life have I been more grateful for them than in this very moment.
I turn Bella under my arm, feeling her tiny waist rotate under my fingers. I pull her into me more tightly than before and start to move us into the living room. And she lets me. Bella lets me lead. I am amazed.
"A Dance playlist? Does this mean you dance around your home?" Yes
"Maybe." I can't help myself, I hunch down, press my cheek to hers and rap with Jay-Z:
"Yellow cab, gypsy cab, dollar cab, holla back
For foreigners it ain't for they act like they forgot how to act
Eight million stories, out there in it naked
City is a pity, half of y'all won't make it."
She responds by singing Alicia Keys' chorus, "New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of. There's nothin' you can't do…"
Bella rests her face on my chest as she sings and I continue to move us. This is all I need. The scent of her hair, the feeling of her warm body pressed against me, and her trust in me to move for us. This is happiness.
She looks up at me with a calm expression. You feel it too, Bella don't you? Let me lead; always let me lead. "Edward, where did you learn to dance so well?"
"The nuns."
"There's a story here."
"Parochial middle school. We spent two solid weeks every year learning how to dance."
"Get out."
"No, it's the truth."
"What did they teach you?"
"Waltz, Foxtrot… Swing… pretty much everything. But they went light on the Latin dances."
"Oh, what I wouldn't give to watch a bunch of little boys in blazers… did you have blazers?"
"Of course."
"Little boys in blazers partner dancing with one another."
"Whoa. You don't think they'd let us dance with each other do you? Ohhh, no. Every morning for two weeks, they bussed in girls from our sister school."
"You're kidding." I spin her away from me and when I bring her back, I crush her a little hard against my chest. I try to keep my erection away from her, just as the nuns taught us, but I feel a growing need everywhere.
"At the end of the two weeks we would have a dance. Big competition."
"And?"
"Theresa D'Archangelo and I won the Swing contest three years in a row."
"Theresa, huh? I'm a little jealous."
"You should be. She let me feel her up in the locker room after every win."
Bella gasps, "That little hussy."
"Genius really. She knew how to motivate me. We also took second in the Free Style competition in our last year. Who knows what would have happened if we won."
"I'm going to call her up and give her a piece of my mind."
"The last I heard, she was on her sixth child."
"Gauh. We Catholics. When are we going to learn that the rhythm method just doesn't work?"
Bella releases my hand and moves her palms down my back. She tentatively rests her palms close to, but not on, my backside. I cup her sweet ass, my touch, not so tentative. The nuns are not here—nothing wrong with a little bump and grind.
It is Alicia Key's melody that guides the movement of our hips. In a bold move, Bella turns her back. I hold her to me, my arms around her waist, and she allows me to grind my erection into her. She reciprocates, moving with me. I bend my knees and my arousal finds a happy place nestled between her cheeks. I think I'm becoming obsessed with her backside. The grinding only lasts for a few measures of music, but it is enough to awaken the Keith Richards inside of me.
I spin Bella away from me and release her hand. I sit on the sofa, slouch down, and stretch my arms across the back, watching her spin again and again, her hands in her hair, lost in the music. For just a second she becomes self-conscious seeing me sitting there, but she doesn't stop moving.
"Dance for me."
Hesitating for a moment, I see her chest heave, then she complies, starting to move again. Her willingness makes my arousal heavy and hot.
Bella's eyes grow dark and she starts to move so slowly, so seductively. Her hips make a continuous figure eight as her hands skim over her body. She brings her arms gracefully up over her head. The sweater rises to show me that sliver of creamy flesh above her skirt.
"The sweater." I don't recognize my own husky voice.
Bella hips continue to undulate, her eyes burning into mine. At a painstaking pace she removes the sweater and lets it slink off of her bare arms and drop to the floor. She is in nothing but a camisole and knee-length, full skirt. Her nipples are straining through the thin cotton. This is criminal.
I don't know if she is toying with me, but Bella bites her lip and my erection begins to pulse. The muscles in my thighs clench and release involuntarily. My pants are soaked with pre-come.
I want to stroke myself as I watch her dance for me… as she strips for me. The thought alone makes my hips jerk. I can't bring myself to do it, but I can't hold out any longer without touch.
"Come here."
Bella meanders over and straddles me on the couch, keeping her sex off of mine. She looks downs at me and quietly sings with Alicia Keys—this must be on repeat. Nice move, Bella.
Her hips continue to swivel as she lowers herself slightly, enough to graze my cock with her heat, before she rises again, leaving me wanting. My head falls back and a low growl rises from deep within my chest. I can't take any more. I'm not sure what kind of dark game we're playing. And I'm not sure I like it, but I'm certain I shouldn't. I don't even know why I haven't held her yet, my arms still stretched out.
Finally, Bella reaches down and, with one finger, strokes the hard line of need in my pants. "Fuck, Bella," I pant out.
She sits back on my thighs and unbuttons my pants—my erection is straining against the zipper. I'm gripping the couch. Finally, she frees me. My cock throbs between us.
Bella says, "I like this." Holy fuck. I'm dying. Even Keith Richards is dying. I start to move my hips, shallow thrusts into the… air. Great, now I'm fucking the air.
"I like this because it's for me. You get it for me." And her voice, her sweet, bashful voice brings me out of the dark.
I put my arms around her and slide my hands up the back of her camisole. Her skin is so smooth. "It's for you, Bella. It's only for you."
I kiss her forcefully—commanding, controlling her mouth and tongue. My need so evident, overpowering any thought. My hands slide up her soft thighs and immediately find their way under the silk of her panties. The music becomes obscured by the sound of our warm breath, sucking mouths, and pounding hearts—it's better than any music… it's our song.
My fingers explore the flesh in the clef of her backside and slide around to graze her clitoris. I'm no longer surprised by her wetness, but nonetheless, thrilled by it. The scent of her desire is obscuring all reason. I want to be inside of her… need to be inside of her. "Ride me, Bella." Did I just say that? Yes, I did. "I want to feel you. I want to feel you come on me."
With wide eyes, she stumbles through her sentence, "If you… I'm… not sure… if you want… I don't think I can…" Keith Richards allows it to go too long, hoping it would somehow end in a resounding yes. The guy holding the bible gives Keith a kick in the teeth and he falls to the back of my mind.
"It's okay, another time. But I need you, Bella, I need you right now." I should take her into the bedroom. The couch would be messy. Fuck it, I'll buy a new one.
We're moving fast. I lay Bella back across the cushions. Keeping one foot on the floor and one knee on the couch, I pull off her panties. She sits up and pushes down my pants, feeling the circle of pre-come. "You're all wet."
"Right back at ya, Bella."
I position myself at the center of her. "I'm going to come fast," sorry, "are you ready?"
"Yes. It will be our first quickie."
"Thanks for calling it our first."
Bella squeezes her eyes shut, looking like she's preparing for an amputation without anesthesia. No, No, No.
"Are you still sore?"
"No, I'm good… go ahead… please." I pause, wondering what to do next. When Bella lifts her pelvis to meet mine, I decide to take her at her word. I hold her hips in the air and begin to push into her; only the tip of me feels the warmth of her flesh, when met with the wall within her that shuts me out—always shuts me out.
"Fuck." The coarseness of her voice and word surprise me. She squeezes her eyes shut and turns her head. Though she articulated my thought, hearing it out loud, and from her, gives it a different meaning. I rest our hips down, trying to keep that small part of me inside of her.
"Hey." Bella doesn't respond. Leaving one hand on her hip, I take the other and turn her head to me. "Hey… Bella, look at me." She opens her eyes, but stares at the ceiling. My voice is assured, "We do not get upset about this. Do you hear me?" The flutter of lashes tells me she's holding back tears. "No, no, no. This is not something we cry about."
Bella's expression melts into a pout, a very real pout, as she continues to fight off tears and says, "What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing is wrong with you, Isabella." I hope.
"I'm frigid," she whimpers.
"No, no you're not. You know what I think? I think the last time my guy parts were this close to your lady parts, there was a lot of pain."
A flash of dangerous determination crosses her face, and in an instant, she's digging her heels into my backside and trying to buck her hips into me.
"No." With both hands, I press her hips to the sofa, and I pull out of her. Under her skirt, I feel my cock on her thigh. It wants back in. It is restless.
"Please. I can take it… just thrust, push into me." Bella Swan might have a death wish, after all.
"Oh, yes. That will make your lady parts real happy." I reign in my temper, but speak quickly, "We need to be gentle here, because right now they're scared. They're saying, 'Hey Bella, we like this guy's mouth and fingers, but we're not too sure about what's going on between his legs." Bella smiles sadly at my falsetto. I will gladly make myself a fool if it stops impending tears.
"And they should be scared," I continue. "Because my guy part is a total doofus who's like, 'When do I get to go in the warm place?' He thinks about being inside of you all the time."
"He does?" Can't you feel him twitching on your leg?
"Yes. And he's not alone, he's got a couple of friends with him." Please touch his friends someday. "And they're all hood, all three of them, just like me."
I'm still standing on one leg, and find balance by resting my forearm on the armrest behind Bella's head.
"Gentle, see?" I reach between her legs and brush my thumb over her clitoris. "Gentle."
"Gentle," she breathes back. I continue to stoke her swollen flesh as I stare down at her.
"Good, right?"
"So good," she mewls.
I tease the opening of her sex, tapping my fingers. Bella stifles a long, moan by biting her lip.
"Oh, no, Isabella. I want to hear you. I want to hear what my touch does to you." I continue to tease and stroke, "Say my name."
"Edward," she whispers, her voice is as raw as my body.
I slide two fingers into her, not far, and Bella bucks her hips and lets out a cry of ecstasy.
"Does that feel good?" I know it does.
"Yes. God, yes." I use the heel of my palm to give her more pressure and Bella starts to grind on my hand, controlling her own pleasure.
"That's it, Bella, move on me. Do what feels good."
Our gaze never breaks as she lifts her arms above her head. Her hands push against the armrest as her sex pushes against my hand and she finds her own rhythm.
"Edward," she cries out.
"That's right, Bella."
My need has become raw, burning. Involuntarily, my cock starts to flex—tensing and releasing on her thigh. A quiet tremor courses throughout my body. I begin to flex my fingers inside of her in time with my own body. Loud moans pour out of her and I watch, in awe, her mounting arousal.
"That's it, Bella. Come on my hand."
I gaze down at her dark chocolate eyes, her writhing body- her glowing face in the center of a halo of chestnut hair spread out over the sofa. Her face, a mix of bliss and torture—I want her to come.
My cock brushes against her thigh with her movement. Every molecule of my six feet, two inches is ignited. Wanting.
"You're so gorgeous. Let me see you come."
My balls tighten. Fuck.
Bella gasps and cries, "I feel it. I'm open"
I slide my fingers into her. Oh, she's open. Quickly, I withdraw and grip the sofa behind her. In one motion, I lunge at Bella, and slide into home. The second I am enveloped in her tight heat, "Oh, fuck," my orgasm rockets through me. My hips jerk wildly as I climax. I bury myself into her. Loud, guttural sounds cry from deep within me. I am a trembling mass of white-hot ecstasy forcefully releasing into her-every emotion, every thought, every memory, all of me. I come so hard, so hard, "Oh, God," so hard.
I collapse, sucking inadequate amounts of air through the upholstery. I still can't breath. I feel her arms and legs wrapped tightly around me, my skin still ablaze. She is touching my face, stroking my back. Her voice soothing, encouraging. I'm too far away. They are sounds, but not words. In my daze, I fantasize she's telling me she loves me.
"Edward," Bella's voice is clearer, but still soft. I must be crushing her. I try to move off of her body and onto my leg, still on the ground. Clumsy and exhausted, I fall onto my back between the sofa and the coffee table.
Bella crawls onto me. "Edward, did you hurt yourself?"
I stroke her legs on either side of me. "No, I'm great." She rests her head on my chest, pressing her body to mine. I relish the feel of her rising and falling with my breath.
Oh, she needs to come. How do I do this? Fingers? I palm her backside, yes, I'm becoming obsessed, and move my fingers to her sex. Bella inhales sharply. Too sensitive?
"I'm good," she says.
"But you didn't…"
"Yes I did." She smiles up at me.
"Isabella…?" I narrow my eyes.
"No. I did… I swear." I can't tell when she orgasms. Best. Lover. Ever. "It was different. Awesome, really."
I move my hands over her body in long, circular strokes—her legs, her back, her arms.
"Awesome?"
"Yeah. You starting first… I could feel… um… everything."
"You mean you could feel my hard, hot cock coming inside of you?"
"Stop it." Bella slaps my chest and rests her head back down, "You and your perverted dirty talk."
"You know you love it." Her giggles shoot to my heart.
"Maybe I do. Yes, Edward, I could feel your penis orgasm inside of me… my vagina," we both laugh even harder.
"It wasn't just my penis, gorgeous, it was all of me." The heat of her blush warms my chest.
"Whatever. I liked it."
"Good. Because I'm sure it won't be the first time I orgasm first."
"Mmm. I could fall asleep right here."
"Good plan, I'm in." I turn her head and blow in her ear.
"No, we can't."
"Convince me."
"This song will be etched in our heads forever."
"I can live with that."
Bella wordlessly grumbles and peels herself off of me. I grab her hands as she stands above me. I whine like a child, "Noooo. Come back to floor with me. I want to cuddle."
"Come on, we'll cuddle in bed."
"No. Cuddle here."
"Edward, bed." Bella tries with all of her might to pull me off the floor. It's quite comical. With one slight tug, she falls back onto my chest.
"See, we're perfect right here."
"Edward."
"Give me one good reason why we can't stay here all night."
"I have to set my alarm. Work tomorrow."
.
.
A/N:
Though it took 100,000 words to get through week one of their relationship, it won't take that long to get through week two… more information is coming.
I've added some details about myself on my profile—it might interest some of you.
I'd love to hear what you think.
Warm regards,
Liz x