Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chapter 26 Chaste Christmas
BPOV
There was no sleep humping, the giant child that is Emmett Cullen woke up a long time before Edward and I did. There wasn't even time for me to second guess whether sleeping with him was a good idea before Em pulled us both bodily from the nice warm bed and strong armed us down the stairs to open our presents.
After that we laid waste to Esme's awesome breakfast and wrapped ourselves up to rescue Carlisle's car. Eight people armed with shovels, snow chains and a couple of lumps of two by four. Fortunately for Edward it was easy to retrieve and relatively unscathed though we all knew who would be paying for the repairs. Just like last night Edward took their insults with good grace, and just like last night he did his best to keep me by his side.
Eight people. Four couples.
No different at face value than any of our other Christmases.
But different.
...
On the first day of Christmas we cooked dinner, we got drunk, we ate dinner and after dinner we crashed out in the family room and pretended to watch movies while we all fell asleep. Edward made a cushion nest for us on the floor and I only hesitated briefly before I snuggled into it, because that's what we do every year, and things shouldn't be awkward.
After supper Edward caught me in the darkened hallway and molested me, thoroughly yet chastely with his lips, but our subsequent cuddle was interrupted by Em who was anxious to get the Christmas games going.
I felt like a teenager again.
Anxious, excited to the point of passing out, and full of longing for unnamed and indescribable things.
Of course that could have just been the alcohol but nevertheless I was the first one to call time and head up to bed.
...
On the second day of Christmas I woke up in Edward's arms being gently but insistently sleep humped.
Oh, I thought about waking him up and having him make good on the hardness pressed against me, but not in his Mother's guest room and not now.
So instead I slid out of bed and padded down to the kitchen in search of coffee.
As is our tradition we cooked dinner, we got drunk, we ate dinner and after dinner we crashed out in the family room and pretended to watch movies while we all fell asleep. Edward and I bagged a couch this time and Rose and Em were inappropriate on the floor when they thought the rest of us were asleep.
...
On the third day of Christmas I woke up in Edward's arms again. All was quiet and still until I tried to extract myself and then the sleep humping started. I finally escaped leaving him flung out, frowning and muttering incoherently.
He was so cute I forewent coffee and sat and watched him for a while.
The Cullen household comes back to life on the third day of Christmas.
We all went for a walk on the beach, Edward and I hand in hand, hanging back so he could kiss me when no one else was looking. Soft sweet kisses that thrilled me.
...
On the fourth day of Christmas I woke up to soft sweet kisses being pressed to my face.
I'd like to say that I slid out of bed like a good girl, or that I at least called time while I brushed my teeth. But I did neither of those things. I let him kiss me on the mouth and I kissed him back. Soft and sweet rapidly turned slightly more energetic because, damn, he's a good kisser. However no bases were rounded and we eventually managed to tear ourselves away from each other, breathless and laughing.
We haven't discussed where we stand with our physical relationship and for the time being I am happy to be passive and let him lead.
Am I testing him?
Maybe?
Is there a pass or fail?
No idea.
...
On the fifth day of Christmas I woke up from the throes of an intimate dream starring one Edward Anthony Cullen and nearly cashed in my 'passive' card.
Not that he seemed to mind.
Again no bases were rounded.
And I started to wonder if he was slowly and gently seducing me.
Or trying to kill me.
Carlisle went back to work. Esme went to do 'things', which I think translated as anything that got her away from the younger generation for a few hours and we, the younger generation, went into town to shop and have lunch.
...
On the sixth day of Christmas I woke up to fresh coffee as the men were up early to play snow golf.
I hid my pout when Jasper called him downstairs but I started to wonder if too much uninterrupted Edward time was going to be bad for me, us. I'm pretty sure Edward isn't going to want a needy clingy girlfriend and I'm just as sure I don't want to be one.
God, but there are a number of ways this could get complicated . . . .
...
On the seventh day of Christmas I woke up to a good solid sleep hug.
I can already hear Em blundering around downstairs, excited about setting up the fireworks for tonight's New Years Eve party, and I know he'll be up here to rouse us from our pit any minute.
"EDWARD! BELLA! Up an' at 'em love birds, we've got shit to do!"
"Language Emmett!"
"Sorry Ma."
Edward stirs behind me, tightening his hold on me as he burrows his face into my bed hair.
"I don't suppose there's any chance a small localised black hole might blink him out of existence?" He murmurs sleepily.
"EDWARD! You lazy douche bag. Don't make me come up there!"
"Apparently not." I drawl.
"Edward!" Esme calls up the stairs. "Get up, your brother is giving me a headache!"
"Yeah Mom . . . . coming!"
"You'd better not be little bro . . . ."
"Emmett Mac Cullen!" Esme again. "I have a skillet in here with your name on it."
"We'd better get up." Edward sighs, rolling his hips into me, just the once.
...
Everyone has a job to do to get ready for the party, even me, but though I have been designated 'kitchen elf' I am not, for obvious reasons, allowed to even attempt to use my own initiative. I'm not offended since they've given me every chance to show some sign of culinary talent over the years, lovely people that they are, before finally recognising that I have none. I am, however, shit hot at washing up and following detailed instructions. I am also 'chief taster' a role which Em covets but cannot fulfil with quite the same 'je ne sais quoi'. Or as Rose puts it, without getting a fat ass.
At three Esme declares us ready and shooed us all off to beautify ourselves for the party, always a black tie affair.
I told myself I didn't know if I was going to stay for New Year, probably wasn't, but I'd packed an 'Edward Blue' cocktail dress just in case.
I don't know why I was so nervous about it, I just, was . . . . it was another new thing I suppose . . . .
...
Alice, Rose and I got ready together.
Laughing, drinking and taking turns with each other's hair and makeup until the guests started arriving.
...
The party's gone from dull roar to cacophony of noise fairly quickly. And it's brilliant. I know most of these people, actually like quite a few of them and not one of them wants to 'network' or be photographed with me. Jake loved the glitz and glamour of a New York party but I much prefer this. Even if I've barely seen Edward all night. He's haunting me I think, flitting here and there on the periphery of my vision, his laughter or voice occasionally reaching my ears.
At one point we pass each other while engaged in our hosting duties and he snatches a brief kiss and feels up my ass before being spun away by the heaving crowd.
Stupid how it makes me grin from ear to ear.
I can't remember the last time I actually had a drink but colors are brighter and people generally funnier so I must have managed to fit in a few, I think. What I am right now is ravenously hungry and not as focussed on the conversation I'm part of as I should be. Food, I need food . . . .
A heaped plate of it appears in front of me.
"Can I steal her for a moment?" Edward purrs, drawing me away before anyone can answer.
"Quick." He urges. "Get your coat on, the only place to eat safely is the deck . . . ."
...
"Cyggers!" Em greets as we push our way outside. "Come join the oppressed minority."
He and Rose are also bundled up against the cold, leaning against the railing with their own heaped plates.
"Eat while you can." Rose advises, preparing to pop a Vol-Au-Vent in her mouth. "Oberführer Carlisle will be wanting to start handing out the champagne in a minute."
Edward laughs at the expression on my face
"Trust me." He chuckles. "This is the party in the year when family takes a back seat to being a good host. Let's eat while we still can."
Edward and I have barely tackled half the plate, though it was a big plate, before Pa Cullen finds us.
"What are you doing out here? Come on, we need to get the champagne circulated before we start the fireworks. We're on a deadline here people and your Mother is having a conniption . . . ."
...
A whirlwind of activity later and I'm stood on the beach with Edward's arm round my waist, waiting for Em to unleash his master creation on the shouting crowd.
"TEN, NINE . . . ."
I've done this countdown before, of course I have.
"EIGHT, SEVEN . . . ."
Just never with someone.
"SIX, FIVE . . . ."
Edward's arm is drawing me closer and closer.
"FOUR, THREE . . . ."
Turning me.
"TWO, ONE . . . . HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
The sky is alight with color and noise but for me there is only Edward.
Wrapped around me. Kissing me. He obliterates everything else. His cologne. The taste of whiskey on him. The intoxicating scrape of his five o'clock shadow on my skin. His warm firm tongue, caressing my mouth with deep needy strokes. My cold fingers, no gloves, twist into his equally cold hair, no hat. Congratulatory hands rain down on our backs, unheeded felicitations for a happy and prosperous New Year.
Edward's large hands are easily covering my winter coat padded shoulder blades, holding me tight, lifting my mouth to be devoured by his.
There is nothing chaste about this kiss but neither is there more than a promise of sexuality about it. I feel like he's talking to me, telling me something, something I ought to hear . . . . want to know . . . .
I don't know if he pulls back first or I do. All I know is that I've gone from kissing him to gasping against his chest, relaxed, weak kneed, in his arms.
Fuck.
I love him.
Crazy, stupid, love . . . .