FYI: These chapters have been re-posted now with extra beta! No major changes, just a few little additions here and there. Nothing that changes the story.
Thank you Wednesday in LA for saving my butt!
Chapter Thirty-Two
"I got this need for you, forming in my beating heart." - 'Warm Water' by Banks
One week slips slowly into another, and before I know it I'm closing in on almost eight weeks without Edward. As far away as it seems, though, we're already making plans for his homecoming - plans that include my bedroom, zero clothing, and not much else.
After sleeping on my own for so long, I never thought I'd miss having someone else in bed with me, but I want nothing more than to feel him tucked up behind me in the mornings. I miss his warm breath on the back of my neck, the scratch of his hairy legs tangled between mine. The rest – the way he tastes, the way he touches me, the way he loves me – it all comes second to just having him home.
We haven't tried the phone sex thing again since he left me hanging the first time. To be honest, two full grown males sharing a tiny hotel room with one bathroom doesn't sound like the pinnacle of privacy anyway. I think we've come to terms with the fact that we're both stretched tight with pent-up sexual tension, but it's there all the same. I try my hardest not to think about him relieving the stress in the shower. Or in bed, his skin shining in the balmy island heat-
"You okay?" whispers Rosie, her knee nudging mine. Blinking the lusty haze from my eyes, I nod, making the effort to curve my lips up a little into a smile, and trying not to blush as I realise I've been fantasizing about Edward touching himself while his mum and dad sit just feet away.
After running into her at the supermarket, Esme twisted our arms into coming over for dinner. Well, to be totally honest, there was very little twisting. Once she said she was making sticky date pudding, there wasn't a chance in hell we were going to miss out.
Full-bellied and sleepy from a huge meal, the rest of the Masen family lounges in various positions around the TV as Esme figures out how to work the DVR.
"Embry'll be home in a minute," says Carlisle, as Emily climbs up his chest like a monkey, her pointy little elbow smacking him in the side of the head.
"No, I can do it," says Esme, stubbornly pressing another button. "What does HDMI mean?"
"Are you sure you taped it?"
Esme stabs the remote a few more times, becoming visibly annoyed. "Yes, Carlisle. It was on right after The Morning Show the other day."
Eli sits beside me on Rosie's lap, listening intently as she reads a story to him in a hushed tone. He's such a sweet, quiet little boy. Totally the opposite of most of the other Masen boys, and even Emily, who I have no doubt is the cause of many of Carlisle's new grey hairs.
Frustrated, Esme gives up on the remote and begins pressing buttons on the DVR. She's so excited that Rosie and I don't have the heart to tell her we've already seen the TV spot with Emmett and Edward.
One of the morning shows ran a minute-long piece about the boys and included a tiny snippet of an interview with Edward. He mumbled through most of it, and touched his hair like he does when he's nervous, but for a brief moment I got to see him, and that's all that matters.
Embry arrives a few minutes later, still wearing his footy shorts and boots, the little plastic cleats on the bottom click-clacking across the linoleum floor.
"Embry Masen, get your boots off my lino!" says Esme. With a loud sigh he rips the muddy shoes off and chucks them into the corner.
"How was training?" asks Carlisle, wrestling Emily off the back of the sofa.
Embry replies with a shrug and a mumbled "all right" as he goes straight for the fridge.
"Aha!" cries Esme, pointing at the TV. The end of a morning talk show flashes up on the screen and, before I know it, there's Edward in glorious 56-inch HD colour.
The interviewer has obviously followed Edward's career; he's as close to a giggly fangirl as a guy can get. "You've got a competition in Fiji after this, and then on to Trestles in California. They're both known for their big waves, but which one are you looking forward to most?"
The skin between Edward's eyes creases as he thinks, his eyes cutting to the side for a moment before sliding back. "Um, I guess Trestles is pretty amazing. I always have a really good time there. The waves are always a bit of fun, and it'd be nice to get a good result this year, you know, take advantage of the conditions. But Tavarua is beautiful, too. I'd love to take my girlfriend there actually. All the white sand and the rainforest and stuff – she'd love it."
Esme beams at me from the floor in front of the TV. I blush, smiling back.
"So, what do you do in your down time? You can't surf all the time, but what do you do when you're so far from home?"
Edward's fingers brush at the five o'clock shadow on his cheek, and he smiles. "Not much really. I read a bit, hang out with my brother ... I try to stay in touch with my family back home and stuff." He runs a hand over his hair, his long fingers making a mess of the stylist's work. "Distance makes it hard, you know. But I'm really lucky to be surrounded by loving and supportive people."
"Finally, your pick for the world title this year. Who will it be, and why?"
The smile I've been without for months explodes across his face, making his eyes crinkle at the sides. "Ah, can't go past my brother, man. He's come home strong these past few heats, and he's got it in him to win. I'd love to see Laurent get up there, but I think Cameron or Emmett will bring it home for sure."
The segment continues with a few seconds of footage and some stock photos of the boys from a few years back before it ends and the screen goes back to the menu. Even though I've seen it, viewing it on the Masens' huge TV screen was infinitely better than my laptop.
"Any idea how long they're home for?" Rosie asks.
Esme shakes her head, looking back at the screen like she could watch the ten-second clip for hours. "They haven't said anything, but I imagine it'll be about two weeks. They've got Trestles in August."
Two weeks. All this waiting, and then just two weeks.
Later that night, Rosalie slips from my bed back to hers after watching the ASP coverage with me well into the night. As the autumn wind buffets the side of the house, I dream of hot, sun-warmed skin, of lop-sided smiles, and bright blue eyes. I dream of the front seat of his yellow van, the wind whipping my hair around my face as I watch him behind the wheel, the light streaming in the front window, casting him in a yellow glow.
I can smell the salt in the air.
Feel the hot vinyl under my legs.
Hear the rumble of the van's engine.
When I turn to look at him and he gives me one of those smiles and yearning blossoms deep in my chest, the ferocity of it wakes me up.
It's cold and dark in my room, and the smell of salt and summer wind drifts away. Even with my new electric blanket on, I tug the covers up higher, burrowing deeper into the pillows to push away the lingering sounds from my dream.
Only, there's one sound that still cuts through the night, that still rattles and whines in the most familiar way.
I sit up slowly, and when the sound doesn't stop, I'm up and out of my bed before I realise what I'm doing.
My socked feet slide across the tiled hallway and out the front door, the screen closing with a loud bang behind me.
There, in the dark of the early morning, standing beside his rusty yellow van, is Edward.
Reaching into the car, he turns off the engine and takes a step towards me, and without a second thought, my feet propel me forward until I'm in his arms. He clutches me tightly, but not nearly tight enough, lifting me onto my tiptoes as I bury my face into the crook of his neck. His hoodie smells like peppermint Extra and the inside of his van, and I've never loved a smell so much in my life.
"What did I tell you about pajamas?" he mumbles, his voice muffled by my shoulder as his hands slide down my back to squeeze my butt before he lowers me to the ground.
I step back, taking in his navy hoodie and jeans. "What are you doing here?"
Edward shrugs. "I left early."
My fingers clutch the soft cotton of his jacket as my eyes catalogue every inch of his face, from the stubble on his jawline to the hair peeking out from beneath his hood-even the dark rings beneath his eyes. "Will your team be upset? What about Emmett? When do you have to go back?"
He smiles, tugging me close by the flannel of my pajama shirt. "How are you so talkative for four o'clock in the morning?" His forehead is warm as he presses it to mine.
"I can't believe you're here."
His fingers brush my sleep-mussed hair from my face. "Believe it. Now, will you shut up so I can kiss you?"
His lips are on mine before I can answer.
An overwhelming sense of rightness sweeps over me at the touch of his lips. His kisses feel like home, like familiarity, like everything in the world is right again. I can feel the cold cement of the driveway through my thick sleep-socks, and the wind is frigid against the small parts of my exposed skin, but I don't care.
Breaking the kiss, Edward sighs. Goosebumps rise across my skin, and I shiver as the wind picks up, and Edward rubs his hands up and down my arms in an effort to warm me. "Can we go inside, or do you want to stand out here all night?"
Once we're inside, I'm not quite sure what to do. For once, Edward doesn't seem at ease enough to make himself at home. Instead, he stands in the living room with his hands in his pockets, watching me as I stand around looking awkward in my pajamas.
"Do you want a drink or something?"
He shakes his head. After a minute or so, he tugs the hood off his head. "Can I have a shower though? It's been two days since I've had one."
His gentle smile snaps me out of my idleness. "Oh shit, of course. I'll get you a towel."
As I place the clean towel on the bathroom vanity, Edward closes the door behind him, unzipping the front of his hoodie. I watch as he slings the jacket over the bathroom rail, and tugs his t-shirt off over his head. My eyes devour the bare skin of his upper body, the form I've come to be so familiar with. His skin is impossibly darker and there are new patches of freckles across the tops of his shoulders from days spent in the sun.
When he unbuttons the fly of his jeans and they drop to the floor, I'm unsure whether to go or stay. After thirty hours of travelling he must be tired, but after two months of not seeing him, the thought of leaving him, even while he showers, is too much.
"Stay?" he asks, his fingers wrapping around the tips of mine as the steam begins to fill the bathroom.
Suddenly speechless, I nod, and he reaches forward to unbutton my shirt, letting it fall from my shoulders. The bathroom air is still cold, and my skin flashes with goosebumps instantly, the reaction increasing as his palms slide down my sides to rest chastely on my hips. His fingers are still cold from the air outside, and I shiver again as they graze the skin of my abdomen, brushing against the elastic of my pajama pants. He kisses me again, and tugs at the stretchy flannel until it falls to my feet. Ridding himself of his boxers, he pulls me by the hand until we're both under the hot water.
Rivulets of water fall over his head, catching in his sun-bleached lashes and falling in trails over the skin of his cheekbones. The heat from the shower intensifies the scent I've come to know as Edward - sweet but masculine, like hazy summer days and Sex Wax.
His warm hands slide up my back until I'm pressed against him from head to toe, the water cascading over the two of us. I can feel him hard against my hip bone, but when I reach for him he captures my hand and holds it tightly in his own.
"Just… not yet."
But I can't help but touch him everywhere else. His chest is lean and taut - muscle stretched thin over bone - and my fingers skim his sternum as my lips kiss each new freckle on his honey-brown skin. His hand tightens around my hips as his head falls to my shoulder.
"You're not making this easy."
Turning, I kiss his cheek, his hairline, his ear. "I missed you."
Sliding a hand up and into my wet hair, Edward lifts his head and stares down at me with a look of reverence that makes my heart swell. Instead of answering, he kisses me again.
I don't know how long we stand there. My skin is soft and wrinkled by the time he turns the water off, its heat having made me drowsy all over again. Stepping out of the shower, I shiver as the cold air hits me, my hair sending streams of cold water dripping down my back and onto my legs. Shaking, I wrap my towel around me and watch as Edward does the same.
With my hair still wet, we climb into my bed and immediately he tucks me close, closer, closer, like he can't get near enough. It might be weird if I didn't feel the same way - like there is no possible way that I could be close enough to him. It's a little awkward; my nose is pressed to the skin of his sternum, my head tucked under his chin, but I don't care. My left arm will go numb soon from his weight, and I'm pretty sure he must have a mouthful of my hair, but as he pushes his thigh between mine and tucks me nearer still, I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be but uncomfortable in my bed with this boy.
Still warm from the shower, his hands trail up the dip in my spine, the movement sending a shudder through me. My eyes beg me for sleep, their lids heavy and gritty, each blink harder than the last.
"How long?"
Edward sighs, his whole chest expanding and contracting beneath my arms.
"Not long enough."
I will be re-posting the next chapter and then a brand new one very soon!
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