Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I haven't seen BD2 yet. I'm scared.

Nineteen

I'm left reeling at Jasper's revelations.

Edward - a world-class surfer.

The notion doesn't seem silly to me at all. In fact, it makes perfect sense. If he'd said he was a world-class chess player I'd have been more surprised. But the fact that I didn't know, and more importantly, wasn't told – makes me feel a little stupid, like an in-joke I wasn't aware I was the butt of.

An eddy of warm sea-air whips around me, blowing my sundress against my legs and my hair around my face. I peel my hair from my lip-gloss, tucking the sticky strands behind my ear.

Why didn't he tell me?

Did he think I already knew?

Oh, God. My mind reels back to all the stupid comments I've made about his surfing being "pretty good". I slap a palm to my forehead. Idiot.

Looking back, all the pieces of the mysterious Edward puzzle click into place; the seemingly endless supply of money, the fact that he's never had time for a girlfriend, and the way people in town seem to flock to him.

Has my head been that far up my ass? How did I miss this?

Making the left turn into Edward's street, I try to sort through the myriad of questions in my head, figuring out which one to tackle first. I check the house number Jasper scrawled on the back of my hand, and then the time on my phone.

Six o'clock – I'm early.

Edward's parent's house is both everything and nothing like I thought it would be. A few streets back from the beach; it sits nestled in a quiet street in the older part of town, one of the few places untouched by ultra-modern mega-mansions and housing estates. Neat and tidy, the 1960's white weatherboard is partially hidden by a beautiful, established garden; full of yellow-blossomed wattle and splashes of bright purple bougainvillea. Beach towels hang, flip-flapping in the wind, over a railing on the veranda, black wetsuits hanging alongside. Something about it feels unmistakably like home, or it would if you lived here.

As I push open the front gate, the hinge creaks, and a head pops up from a garden bed on my right, startling me a little. As she straightens, I spy honey-coloured hair poking out from her hat; its distinctive hue a dead giveaway as to her identity.

"Hello," she says, pulling a pair of soil-covered garden gloves off.

"Um – hey - hello," I reply, trying not to sound timid. "Is Edward around?"

She looks at me for a moment, green eyes sizing me up from beneath a worn straw hat. "Yeah, he's down the back. It's Bella, isn't it?"

I nod, smiling.

"I'm Esme, Edward's mum. It's nice to finally meet you."

This time I blush, and she grins, catching the pink as it washes my cheeks.

"Don't worry," she says, shifting her garden clippers from one hand to the other. "He only says good things."

Shifting uncomfortably, I finger the thin leather belt at my waist. "Oh, well...that's very nice of him."

Esme smiles again, and it's easy to see where Edward gets his easy nature from. "Down the driveway on the left, you can't miss it."

Leaving Esme to her gardening, I cross the lawn and make my way down the short gravel driveway to the backyard. Under the carport lies a myriad of kids bikes and play things, a store's worth of surfboards all resting in various places around the outside of the house, some in covers, some not. Right down the far end of the backyard, I spy a bungalow; a tiny little room tucked at the back of the yard, its glass sliding door slightly ajar, the inside dark and quiet. Treading carefully around trucks and Frisbees, I step around a blue, shell-shaped kiddie pool filled with water, and under a set of worn-looking monkey bars, wondering just how many Masen kids there are hidden around the place.

Sliding open the door a little more, I slip inside, hit immediately with Edward's scent intensified. His room smells deep and spicy, like his skin in the sun, like surfboard wax and peppermint gum. It's heady and makes every nerve in my body twitch with delight, tingling beneath my skin like an electric charge. The lights are off; the only sound the quiet strum of music from an iPod dock hidden somewhere. Sprawled on top of his doona, fast asleep, his long golden legs hanging off the side of his bed, is Edward. I stand watching him for a moment, my earlier worries dissipating as I watch him sleep peacefully. His arms are tucked under a pillow, his cheek smooshed against the white cotton slip, perfect pink lips open a little as he breathes steadily. Sitting gently on the bed beside him, I can't help but notice the way his shorts sit low on his hips, the way his lower back dips down gently before sloping upwards to his perfect narrow hips and ass.

And to think, those boy-hairy legs, covered with sandy-coloured hair, have traversed the world, surfed tropical beaches and probably seen things I'll never see in my lifetime – and all by age of twenty-five.

A warm hand slides across my lower back and around my hip, and I turn to see a pair of sleepy-looking blue eyes looking up at me. Without a word, he pulls me down beside him, his arms tucking me into his side as he closes his eyes again.

"Hey," he says, taking a deep, relaxed breath in as he buries his head into the crook of my neck.

I'm frozen in place, at war with my body and my brain. My body, warmed by the sun beaming through the glass door, and by the boy with his arms wrapped around me, is alight with Edward's nearness. My brain however, is still ticking over as I look around, taking in the trophies and ribbons that adorn his walls.

Moving away slightly, Edward squeezes my hips lightly, his brow creased. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"How come you didn't tell me?"

"About what?"

"About the fact that you're like Kelly fucking Slater around here."

Understanding colours his features. "Oh."

I'm waiting for him to explain himself, but instead he just laughs. "I'm sorry; I'm not laughing at you. I promise."

I shove him in the chest, turning my back to him as I sit up, my legs hanging off the bed. "No! I'm angry, Edward."

"Bella," he says between chuckles, tugging at my arm, trying to pull me down next to him again. "Come on, come back here."

"No!" I pout. "And can you put a shirt on please? I can't be angry at you when you're…" I wave a hand at his bare chest.

"What was I s'posed to say?" he asks, smiling. "Would it have made a difference if I'd told you?"

"Yes. I mean, no, it wouldn't have made a difference. But maybe I wouldn't feel like such a dickhead for not knowing."

Sitting up, Edward tucks himself up behind me, his chin resting on my shoulder, he's silent for a moment, the quiet in and out of his breath the only sound I can hear.

"Do you know why I wanted you so bad that first night?" he says quietly a moment later, his fingers dancing absently across my lower back.

"You mean apart from my gams?"

He smirks, and I can feel his cheek brush against my ear. "Apart from your legs and that fine ass of yours."

"Was it my stellar personality? My winning sense of humour?"

Pulling me backwards and rolling on top of me, Edward buries his face in my neck as his fingers dig into my ribs, making me giggle and squirm beneath him. When I'm red-faced and panting, he stops, lifting his head to kiss me softly just once.

"It was because you didn't give a shit who I am. You didn't even give me your real name for fucks sake!"

We both smile at the memory.

"You were just this smart mouth chick with a nice ass, who thought I was some beach bum."

"I still think you're a beach bum."

"Anyway," he says, ignoring my retort. "What was I gunna say? Don't you know who I am? How do you tell someone something like that?"

Pressing my hands against his chest, I push him backwards until we've swapped positions and I'm straddling his hips.

"You could have said; I'm Edward fucking Masen, bronze-haired beach god and surfing extraordinaire!" My hands gesticulate wildly.

His hands slide up my thighs and under my dress, squeezing my ass tightly. "I thought about that," he says pulling me closer. "But then you called me pretty, and bent over to get me a Corona…"

I cover his mouth with mine, silencing him with a kiss.

"I should be pissed off, Edward." With my chin resting atop his chest, he's all I can see; golden lashes brushing against skin dusted with light freckles as he looks down at me.

He sits up a little bit - as much as he can with 60-odd kilos on top of him anyway. "Why aren't you?"

Breathing deep, I close my eyes. I want to be upset with him, in fact, I probably should be upset, and I have every right to be. But I'm not. I figure that if I can be the safe haven he needs, the place he can go to feel normal, then so be it. It's not like he was keeping some hideously painful secret from me, and really, if I'd taken my fucking blinders off, I would have seen it months ago. Apparently I get a little oblivious where hot boys are concerned.

Opening my eyes, I find him still looking down at me. He brushes his fingers over the shell of my ear, letting them slide across my cheek.

"It's not like I don't feel a little upset that I didn't know. But to be honest, it's probably my pride more than anything." I groan, burying my face against his chest. "All the stupid things I said."

He laughs, and we roll over again, this time until we're on our sides facing each other.

"If it makes you feel any better, I figured you'd work it out one day." His brow creases. "How did you find out?"

"Jasper."

He groans, shaking his head. "Fucking Jasper."

I smile, shifting a little closer until we're almost chest to chest.

"So you're not pissed off?" asks Edward, and my skin prickles as he runs a finger gently up and down my arm. I'm sure the move is meant to be comforting, but being this close to him clouds my mind, and all I can think about is him, and how right it feels to be near him.

I sigh. "No. But you can grovel if it makes you feel better."

"Me? Grovel?" His eyes flicker between my face and the top of my tits as they peek out the top of my dress. "But I'm Edward fucking Masen, bronze-hair…"

Clamping a hand over his mouth, I silence him. "We had a deal."

His brows pull together, and I remove my hand from his lips. "I don't remember a deal."

Sliding my hand down his shorts, I palm him through the material, revelling in the way his mouth pops open and his eyes darken.

"You don't remember anything?" I ask mockingly, increasing my pressure, and enjoying the jerk of his hips against my hand.

Not one to be out done, Edward leans forward, his hips shifting into my hand, his mouth at my neck. His fingers draw my hair aside as his lips leave cool, damp spots over the skin of my throat and jaw line. "I think I'm starting to remember." Warm breath washes over the damp skin of my neck, sending a shudder down my spine, all the way between my legs, where already the blood is pulsing with need.

Nodding, I try to keep myself from writhing against him as his lips dance over my neck softly. "Uh-huh. You called me a fiend if I'm not mistaken."

He chuckles quietly in my ear, and the sound makes me arch against him as the shockwaves ripple through me.

"You are," he insists, slipping the strap of my dress from my shoulder. "You wear me out, woman."

"Woman!" I baulk, teasing. "Excuse me, Mr. Pro-Surfer, you should have the…" My breath leaves my lungs in a whoosh as his mouth closes over the skin above my thundering heart, my blood pooling at the surface of my skin as he sucks gently. "…stamina to keep up with me."

He laughs, lifting his head from my chest and pinning my arms at my sides, pressing me into the bed. "Oh, I've got the stamina," he says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. "You wanna test it out?"

Still beneath him on the bed, I giggle as his kisses tickle the skin of my décolletage. "You sure you don't want another nap, old man?"

He silences me with a wry look and a kiss that leaves me breathless and dizzy. As Edward moves his leg, pressing his thigh between mine, I spy a little blonde head over his shoulder, the sunshine highlighting golden curls framing a pair of bright blue eyes.

"I think we have an audience." I squeeze Edward's shoulders, pushing him away lightly.

Edward turns, groaning as he palms himself through his shorts. "Fuck," he whispers. "Eli! What are you doing? Where's Mum?"

The toddler stands silently, ignoring Edward as he looks at me instead, his sparkly little eyes frozen in wonder, a Tonka truck hanging from one hand.

"Another one?" I ask quietly, gesturing to the little boy. "How many of you are there?"

"Five."

Suddenly, a pair of hands wrap themselves under Eli's arms and whisk him up and out of the room. Embry's head pops in a moment later, his face apologetic. "Sorry!"

I watch as he tosses the little boy over his shoulder and carries the giggling toddler back across the lawn towards the house. Obviously, Embry is nanny for the afternoon.

"Five kids?" I repeat, and Edward nods.

"Four boys, one girl."

I think back to the delicately-framed woman I met in the front yard, wondering how on Earth she popped out five kids and managed to stay looking so good.

"See, this is why we go to your place," moans Edward, sighing dramatically.

Rolling my eyes, I stand up and stomp over to the door separating us from the outside world. With a huff, I close it, lock it, and pull the blinds closed.

"It's not that hard, Edward."

He smirks, opening his mouth to reply, but I silence him with a hand. "Don't even."

A matter of seconds after returning to the bed, my dress is on the floor beside Edward's shorts, and he's making short work of my bra.

We take our time, learning each other with lazy touches and whispers, and soon I'm aching and wet and so ready for him. I've never been needy like this before, never wanted someone the way I want Edward. It's scary and exhilarating at the same time.

The inside of my thighs smart as he settles between them, and I know there will be bruises the perfect shape and size of his hip bones soon enough; little reminders of times like this. He rocks into me, burying himself in one swift movement, his arm flexing above me as he uses the bed head for support. My back arches off the bed as he starts to rock forward slowly. It's almost impossible to do, but I try to keep quiet, not knowing who's lurking outside his door. But when he sits back on his haunches, pulling me astride his legs, I have to bite my lip. I feel the burn as he goes deeper than before; feel myself stretch around him as we rock together.

"Oh, fuck."

With my hands wrapped around his neck, I grip his shoulders, using them as leverage as I roll my hips against his, edging closer and closer to orgasm with each move. My head lolls against his shoulder as Edward's movements intensify, and I know he's close when his thrusts begin to lift us both off the bed.

"Look at me," he rasps, his voice a breathy whisper against my collarbone. I lift my head to look at him, and his index finger brushes across my lower lip, pressing it into my mouth and across my tongue. He slides the finger out of my mouth and down between us. When he presses it right above where we're joined, I cry out, biting my lip in an attempt to keep quiet. But when he starts whispering, his hips meeting mine with a jolt, I can feel myself beginning to unravel.

"You like that?" His dark, stormy blue is almost hidden behind heavy-lids, his cheeks pink from exertion. "You like that, baby?"

My fingernails dig into the skin of his shoulders as my legs begin to shake. "Yeah, right there. Oh…don't stop."

The euphoria builds and builds until suddenly it crashes over me, the waves of my orgasm washing over me as Edward continues to push up into me, whispering my name into my skin as he follows, his movements pulling every last shudder and moan from me that he can.

Breathless, boneless, floating on a post-orgasmic haze, we lie under his cotton sheets. I'm sweaty and my hair is damp around my temples, the sheets beneath me are sticky and smell like our sex, but I wouldn't move even if I wanted to. He's on his stomach and fast asleep already, breathing steadily, his arm stretched out seeking my skin, his hand draped over my stomach.

Seeping into my dreamy state is the creeping notion that at some point this will end. One day, and one day soon, he's going to leave again. He can't stay here anymore than I could have stayed in Forks, and I won't be the one to make him do it. My stomach twists painfully at the idea of being in Clearwater without him. But I'm not his girlfriend; he doesn't owe me anything, and I've made it clear I don't want that. So for now, I have to enjoy him while he's here, make the most of our time together, and hopefully, when it comes time for him to go, I can let him go knowing we'll both be okay.

As his fingers tighten across my stomach, instinctively drawing me close, even I know I'm lying to myself.

Wattle and Bougainvillea - Native to Australia, Wattle is a tree with beautiful yellow blossom on it. Bougainvillea, while not native to Australia, is common in our gardens. It's a vine with lovely purple flowers on it.

Tiff, Thimbles and Ink are my Beta Team.

I'm tired. No witty tonight. Love. Hugs. Gropes. Wink