A/N: So I was happy to hear that most of you truly enjoyed E & B's long weekend. Yeah, I think there was a lot learned too. ;)

Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.

Most characters belong to S. Meyer.

Chapter 19 – How Our First Weekend Ends

BPOV

Edward kisses my head softly and then untangles himself from my arms and legs, gently easing me onto the couch.

I lie back against the cushion and watch him lift himself up while my body hums; happy and more alive than I've been in months, maybe years despite the fact that we're still both fully dressed and all we did was some good old-fashioned grinding. I smile his way curiously because he's walking all weird, sort of bouncing from one leg to the other.

"What are you doing?" I snort.

He turns around, bright green eyes wide and sparkling, and continues the strange swagger.

"Trying not to get jizz all over myself."

I break out into fits so powerful that I have to hold my stomach while he scowls at me, which just makes me laugh all the more because I know he's not pissed. I mean, we just got each other off, and I know his body's got to be singing just as much as mine is.

"Not funny," he smirks, but it so is, so we both end up laughing.

"Want to join me?" He asks, quirking a brow and those eyes, Jesus those eyes…they stop the funny, and he just holds my gaze…

And he snorts. "Bath towels in the same place as hand towels?" He jerks his thumb behind him.

"Yeah."

He nods slowly, a crooked grin on his too-damn-handsome-for-his-or-my-own-good face, and then he looks down at his crotch and shakes his head, chuckling while he shuts the bathroom door.

And I throw my head back against the soft cushions of the couch, blowing out a long gust of air through my lips, heart tripping in my chest while I picture him stripping: reaching for the hem of his shirt and throwing it off; pushing down his pants and his boxers full of his…jizz. Right now, he's probably stepping into my glass-enclosed shower, completely naked.

I hear the shower go on.

"Oh Lord," I sigh.

And then smile to myself. Edward is here, in my shower. I just dry-humped the hell out of him and it felt so, so good in so many ways, and…and maybe I don't have to tell him about Eli just yet. I mean, when will he see him anyway? Eli hasn't been around the studio in weeks. I send him his monthly cut and that's that.

Maybe Angie is right and the past should just stay in the past.

And besides, I don't want to upset Edward.

Yes, I believe him when he says that he's got his drinking problem under control, but he's got that temper, and I just got another glimpse of it a short while ago. I don't even want to imagine how he'd react if he knew the rest…

Now these thoughts have the pleasant hum in my body quickly fading. I shake my head back and forth quickly, trying to quiet the voice inside that reminds me that Edward just shared something huge with me; he confided in me and that I need to do the same.

But this is different, it is. His alcoholism is something we'll have to deal with together, seemingly forever. It'll affect so many facets of his life, of our lives if we have the future I'm starting to hope for, while what happened with Eli never has to touch us…never has to exist outside of dark memories…

I shake my head again. I won't allow Eli to affect our lives. He's the past, just like Angie said. That entire part of my life is the past.

And Edward is the present, and…hopefully the future.

OOOOOOOOOO

Edward has been out of the shower for over an hour, and though it's two o'clock in the morning and I know we're both exhausted, we've been tumbling around on the couch since he came out.

Fuck, he smells good. His hair is soft and silky, and I'm alternating between running my fingers through it and skimming my hands across his bare shoulders.

His shirt is off, and…I've discovered some things about him.

Well, I've discovered more than a few things about him tonight, from the second he walked in.

But what I've discovered since the shirt came off is that his arms are lined with lean muscles that run up along his forearms and into his biceps. Sinewy veins trace the skin from wrist to shoulder, shoulders that are solid flesh and tendons, and I can't get enough of touching and tasting them except when I stop to kiss his hard chest, to nip at the skin with soft, reddish brown hair, to skim my hands over his tight abs and feel the way they contract at my touch.

It's when my mouth moves over his shoulder that I first see it: swirls of black ink traveling in patterns across his back and further down, but his mouth is on my shoulders, lightly biting, sucking on the skin of my collarbone and my mind goes to other things.

"So are you like, going commando right now?" I ask him when we come up for air.

He snorts again, kissing me once. "Yeah."

I can't help giggling. You'd think all this was new for me.

But it sort of is. All this…flirting, and fooling around without actually…fucking. Build-up.

When was the last time I had build-up?

I push all that down.

"What'd you do with your underwear?"

"Threw 'em out," he says lazily, his hands skimming the bare skin of my stomach, mouth tenderly kissing my cheek before returning to suck on my bottom lip.

"What?" I chuckle. "Why? You should've put them in the wash. I would've washed them for you in the morning."

He smirks, mouth moving to my neck, under my jaw, making me shivery and hot all at once.

"Edward," I say breathily.

He sighs, eyes meeting mine. "Bella, you're not washing my underwear."

"Why not?"

He raises a brow.

"So?"

"You're not washing underwear I friggin'…came in." He chuckles, and before I can respond, he puts his mouth on my neck, trailing it up to my earlobe. "Not just yet."

I giggle, and he proceeds to kiss every last giggle out of me.

OOOOOOOOOO

When I can no longer keep my eyes open, I take Edward's hand, and walking backwards, lead him to my bed.

Our gazes remain on one another. I'm only slightly nervous while he follows silently, his eyes shifting to sweep around my room. With no walls, it's open to the rest of the loft, but it's the last room, past the winding staircase, so that offers it some privacy. Neither the floor-to-ceiling windows nor the glass balcony door have any sort of shades or window-coverings, but my unit faces the river, so unless someone's holding up binoculars from Manhattan, there's no way anyone can see.

The room itself is pretty bare except for basic furniture: a four poster bed, a huge dresser, my comfy white, shag rug and the master bath and closet towards the back.

"Nice and big," he whispers.

I'm not sure if he's talking about the room or the bed. "Thanks."

Heart battering against my ribcage so hard it feels bruising, I let go of his hand and with his eyes still on me, push my yoga pants down, lifting my legs so that they pool at my feet and then push them aside with one foot. Then I reach for the hem of my gypsy shirt and pull it off and stand before him in my matching blue bra and boy short panties.

His eyes linger on mine for two seconds, but then he blinks and they lag down, scorching my skin with his gaze. With a deep inhalation, he seems to force his eyes back up. He swallows and slides his long fingers under my neck, guiding me backwards the few steps and cradling my fall when I land over the soft, down comforter.

He hovers over me, darkened eyes intense and no longer wavering from mine, and then he parts my legs with his and lays over me, supporting his weight on his forearms. My eyes dart between his chest and his face.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs.

I watch him wide-eyed, ready to tell him that he is too, and when I open my mouth…a huge yawn comes out.

He throws his head back and laughs out loud, the muscles and veins in his shoulders and neck straining.

"And exhausted it seems," he grins, eyes twinkling.

"Sorry!"

"For what?" he chuckles. "I've kept you up pretty late."

"I don't mind," I smile shakily.

He watches me, and then leans in and kisses me so, so softly, lips brushing mine back and forth, his hands lightly on my hips while his thumbs rub circles on the bare skin over my panties, and I'm melting, a puddle between soft goose down and hard flesh. But then he backs away and easily eases me over to the right side of the bed before flipping me onto my side. I feel him behind me, firm chest pressed up against my spine, underwear-less, denim-wearing torso against my ass, erection firmly between my cheeks.

"Take off your pants…you'll be much more comfortable."

The words are on the tip of my tongue. But then he'll be naked and...

And I'm tempted. God, I'm tempted. But we've been so good, and the kisses, the gentle strokes, they mean so much.

Strong hands wrap around my waist and interlace fingers with mine.

"Goodnight, Bella," he says, nestling his face in the crook of my neck, warm breath on my skin.

"Goodnight, Edward." I sigh in utter bliss.

OOOOOOOOOO

He kisses me during the night, a soft peck here, the feel of his moist lips there, on my face, on my hair, my shoulders, my back. We shuffle and move around, but we're always touching, always one of his arms around me, my feet tangled with his.

I know Mel will be back tomorrow night, and I have missed her this weekend, I have.

But how am I ever going to sleep without him again?

And the fact that we're just sleeping…that there's no sex involved…that he's holding me without expecting anything...simply makes it all the more wonderful.

So when I feel daylight on my closed lids, but no longer Edward touching me, surrounding me, I panic for about two seconds before I open my eyes.

He's here.

Turned on his stomach, his arms no longer wrapped around me, but rather around his pillow. It makes me smile how peaceful he looks. The generous sunlight streaming in from the windows and the glass, balcony doors shines over his silky hair, and I gaze at it for a few moments before my eyes slowly trail down to his back, to what I now see is a black ink memorial.

The sheet covers most of it, but the top of a large cross peaks out while two black doves fly over each broad shoulder. I carefully trace the intricate artwork, ghosting lightly over smooth skin hardened by constant work, and my eyes sting.

There's more for him to tell me. I know there is. The loss of a brother who was almost like a father, of a sister-in-law who on some level may have been so much more, and of parents to a precocious little girl just becoming a woman is a lot to deal with. The pain is still raw, and God how I want to help take it away from him; from both of them, but a pinch of self-doubt suddenly tickles my stomach because how can I take away their pain? How can I help him and Mel fight their demons when I have my own?

Tears slide slowly down my cheeks while I move in carefully, taking care not to jostle the bed and wake him because he deserves peace. He deserves care and tenderness and…love. When my mouth touches his warm, bare skin, he stirs, mumbling something inaudible and turns around.

"Edward…" I breathe, "Edward, I think I'm falling in love with you so hard."

But his eyes are still closed; warm, steady breaths quietly stream from between his slightly parted lips. Apparently, he's a heavy sleeper. I smile to myself because there's still so much to learn about him.

Dreamily, he reaches out and crushes me to him, wrapping me up in his arms and legs; large, rough hands cradling my back while he mumbles some more.

And I lie there warm and safe in his embrace and close my eyes, drifting once again.

OOOOOOOOOO

When I wake up once more, he's watching me, green eyes bright, relaxed yet intense at the same time. It's that look he gets, like he's trying to figure something out.

"What are you doing today?"

"Laundry," I smile, trying to keep some distance. Morning breath.

But he pulls me close, and I smell his breath, and yes, its morning breath, but just like when he's sweaty after a long day of work, it's not bad.

"How 'bout you?" I ask.

"I guess I'm doing laundry."

I grin widely, and when he pulls my mouth to his and his tongue glides inside, I forget all about morning breath.

OOOOOOOOOO

I offer to make Edward breakfast, but he's anxious to get going. Well, just to go back to his place and pick up his laundry, have another shower. I know he's craving his own toothbrush and a change of clothing. He spends his days in worn clothes and boots, with mud and cement cloaking him, but he's a clean man, and I love that.

So I tell him I'll make us some quick coffee before he goes, and he wanders towards the balcony off the bedroom, slowly swaggering into the Sunday morning, late fall sunshine.

"You can have a smoke out there if you want," I offer because I'm pretty sure he's craving one of those too. He hasn't had one since he arrived last night.

He stops and turns just his head to look at me, shaking it from side to side, hair wild from sleep and last night's kissing and late wash and no shirt and just…perfect.

"I'm good."

"You sure?"

He nods, a crookedly bemused smile on his lips

"What, are you going to quit smoking now?" I tease him.

"Maybe," he grins, stuffing his hands inside his jean pockets and making them ride low on his hips, and I see the deep V outline and the trail…

"Maybe I'll quit anything for you." He winks, and he's got this wicked smile going on.

I grin back at him, feeling all tingly inside.

OOOOOOOOOO

He's still standing by the balcony when I return with two mugs. His: black, no sugar. Mine: café con leche and probably too sweet for the average coffee drinker.

Gazing out at the skyscrapers, he stands still and thoughtful, and I just…stop and stare for couple of seconds, watching the sunlight streaming in surround him because it's just amazing the way it frames the artwork on his back, and I can finally stand still and admire it.

It's breath-taking.

Quietly, I set the mugs down on the small nightstand by the bed.

The cross is braided intricately, with a halo in the background and long, beautiful wings on its sides. It takes up most of his back, straight down his spine. Rays shoot out from every direction; the ones on top illuminate the two doves I was able to see in bed. What I wasn't able to see were the dates under each dove, spelled out on banners, or the angels by his lower waist, one on each side, hands and eyes closed in prayer, with elaborate wings that span halfway up his back.

I trace each complex work of art, the rays, the cross, the dates…up and down his spine, and I feel him shudder.

"Did you design it yourself?"

He nods.

"It must've taken hours to plan out."

"I needed the distraction," he snorts.

My fingers ghost over the names that are forever etched in his skin and soul. Goose bumps rise on his flesh.

"Tell me about…Alice."

He sighs. "She was Jasper's best friend, lived for him and for Mel, and she was…my friend."

"What did she look like?"

He chuckles. "Picture Mel a couple of decades older."

"That similar, huh?"

"Yeah," he snorts. "She was…very pretty…and always…good to me. Even when…even when I'd fall off the wagon, she'd always support me. I didn't accept it back then…what I had, but she knew. She knew and she'd help me get back on, always helping me. She and Jasper…they both would, but she…she never judged. She was special. They had something special." He turns around then, holding my gaze, and I place my hands on his chest.

"She meant…a lot to you."

He studies me and then chuckles once, pulling me into him. I sigh unevenly and rest my head on his bare chest.

"Not the way you're thinking. Did I envy Jasper and Alice? I've thought about it a lot over the past few months and…yeah, I suppose I did. But not because I wanted her. It was because I didn't think I'd ever have what they had. I didn't think I…"

I slowly turn my head so that my lips brush against Edward's chest. Soft, reddish-brown hair tickles my cheek while I pucker my mouth against his rapidly beating heart.

"You didn't think you what?"

"I didn't think I'd ever meet anyone that real," he murmurs unsteadily and then cradles my head and brings my eyes up to his. "I mean, I'd never seen it before, Bella. Your mother left, but you had your father, and then he had your stepmom. I didn't think I'd ever find someone like you." He dips his head down and kisses me softly. "Sometimes…" he grins, "it was hard to be around them. I think a lot of the time I left because I just couldn't watch."

"Why?" I ask, cocking my head sideways.

"Because," he says, reaching out and twirling a few strands of my hair around his finger, watching it intently. "I always wondered…"

"What?" I smile.

"If that sort of…devotion actually existed or if Jasper and Alice were just a fluke."

"I think…" – I swallow thickly – "I think that sort of devotion can definitely exist outside of Jasper and Alice."

Half of his mouth lifts. "I do too…now." And the way he looks at me makes my throat tighten.

"They sound like they were so good together. I would've liked to have known them."

He doesn't respond right away, and then swallows thickly.

"I wish you would've known them too."

OOOOOOOOOO

When he returns from his place, he smells fresh: like shower, mint and cigarettes. He admits he had a smoke or two, but tells me that's cutting down for him, which makes me laugh.

We spend the afternoon just hanging out and doing laundry of all things. I've got my own machines, so he tells me that once again, I'm "bailing him out," this time by saving him a trip to the Laundromat. He rolls his eyes and smirks, but I see the hint of humor in his expression, so I let it go, and when he drops a handful of quarters under my shirt while I'm pulling out my unmentionables from the dryer, I chase him around the loft, and then let him catch me and pull out the quarters and oh, those hands…those rough hands feel so good.

Up against the wall, on the couch, over the dryer, in the kitchen, in the bedroom.

We get busy absolutely everywhere, slow and sensual, fast and hot, soft and sweet. He holds me tight, so tight like he never wants to let go. His hands explore under my shirt, kneading over my bra and groaning, but he doesn't take it any further. We grind a little on the couch again, but then stop because we both know that we're right at the edge, and at this point, if we go too far, we won't be able to stop until he's inside, deep, deep inside, and oh I'm full of want. I want so bad.

I want him so badly it's a physical ache in my chest and between my legs, but at the same time, I'm enjoying this…moment of foreplay, this newfound knowledge that two people who want and care can actually fool around without going there. It's new to me.

And it's beautiful.

And I think that in his own way, Edward might be enjoying it too. He's adjusted himself about twenty times this afternoon, and my eyes have strayed to his pretty obvious erection a few times. It's big, the tent it makes; like eye-popping big, like whoa, fuck me big - literally.

Anyway, he stops himself, and I know he'll wait. And I think I love him for it because we're not innocent sixteen year-olds embarking on the unknown. He's twenty-eight, and from what he's hinted at, he's been…around. I'm twenty-four and have done things that make me cringe at night. But this…this is good. This is great.

And I don't think I'm falling for him anymore.

I know I've fallen.

OOOOOOOOOO

We have leftover steak, and I make us a fresh salad and dressing for dinner, and he says he's never had actual fresh dressing, and he loves it. Afterwards, we clean up together, and it feels…so good, he and I moving around together so comfortably like we've done this a hundred times and will do it a million times more, and it'll always be this way, this feeling of first yet hundredth time. It's been the quietest, longest and most mellow date I've ever had, especially since almost every date I've ever had in the past few years ended with me on my back or on my hands and knees, with whips and leather and chains and...

Bile rises up my throat and into my mouth as I pack away some food for Edward to take home for Mel, and I'm glad I'm facing away from him because I can feel my body stiffen, the way my head shakes minutely back and forth, begging myself to dispel the images.

Then I feel Edward's hands snake around my waist, and I force myself to relax. His jaw skims up and down my neck, and he hasn't shaved all weekend and yeah…it feels amazing, and every bit of negative tension slowly leaves my body, replaced by that lovely tension only he can give me.

"Are you okay?" he murmurs in my ear, sucking on my earlobe.

"Yeah," I smile, closing the lid on the container for Mel before turning around in his arms because I am okay. I'm fine. I'll be fine.

His brow is furrowed when I look up at him, as if he knows there's something bothering me, but won't push, and I'm grateful and so ashamed at the same time. He gave me his truths, and he deserves mine, but I just need a little more time. Besides, it's quarter to seven, and we're already pushing it with the time here. He's told me about Mel's grandparents; they're rich, Manhattan blue-bloods, who do everything to exact specifications and who drove Alice away with their demanding expectations.

So he has to be home at seven-thirty on the dot, or they'll raise hell.

But neither of us can seem to let go.

I bite my lip. "Hey, are you sure Mel will be okay with this?" I ask, resting my palms on his hard chest. He's leaving, so unfortunately, he's got a shirt on again.

"For the twentieth time," he sighs, "trust me, she'll be fine with it."

I have admittedly asked a few times today.

"It's just that…you know, you're her daddy figure, and I don't want her to think I'm trying to hone in on her territory."

He snorts. "First of all, Mel doesn't see me as her daddy figure. Second of all, I'm telling you, she'll be fine," he stresses.

"Okay, okay," I relent. "But you're wrong; she does see you as her daddy figure. At least she's starting to, from what I see. Her face lights up when you arrive to pick her up; she's always talking about how strong you are, and how you help her with her math homework because you're so good at math."

"I am pretty good at math," he grins smugly.

I roll my eyes and chuckle. "Let's just be…careful with how we handle this around her. She's just starting to figure out how she fits in your life. I don't want her to see me as some sort of competition now."

He smirks, and though he doesn't look too convinced, he nods.

"Sure, sure, we'll be careful," he agrees, and then lowers his mouth to mine because our weekend is ending, and we've got to take advantage of every second.

When he pulls away, he asks, "So how did you feel when your dad remarried? Did your stepmom seem like competition to you?"

"No," I shake my head. "I was…relieved when my Dad remarried. He's always been so…controlling of me, and Sue kind of helped him ease up - not too much, but a bit. I mean, it's not too bad now, but when I was a kid, what he said went. Like I've said, I kind of understand where he was coming from, being a single dad. But for a long time…" I move my gaze to the wall just past him – "I equated love with…control…with dominance."

"And when did you stop seeing things that way?"

"I don't really know," I shrug. "One day, I just woke up and decided that…" - my gaze moves back to him – "I just wasn't going to be controlled anymore."

Edward frowns, his lips pursed in obvious disapproval. "I'm sorry, but your Dad sounds like a bit of a hard-ass."

"He's not so bad," I chuckle. "Actually, I promised him I'd go over for dinner next weekend, and…I was hoping you and Mel could come with me?"

He sighs and quirks a brow. "Taking us home to meet the parents, huh? You sure you want to do that? He'll probably have a heart attack when he sees all the shit I let Mel get away with."

"I'm sure he'll love you and Mel both," I laugh. "So…yeah?"

"Yeah, sure, and I'll talk to Mel about being on her best behavior, but I can't make any promises," he grins.

"I'm not worried about that," I smile, then tilt my head sideways and study him. "Edward, do you really not see how great you're doing?"

He snorts, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm serious. I can't even imagine how rough it's been, but considering everything…"

"You mean considering I'm an alcoholic?" he says offhandedly.

"No," I say clearly because I won't let him play flip with this. "I mean considering what you've both lost. Considering how difficult that must be for not just one, but both of you. Considering that your own parents weren't…" I trail off. "When you add in the alcoholism," I sigh. "You've had so much shit on your plate, Edward, yet you still take care of Mel while at the same time allowing her to breathe. Do you know how strong and brave that makes you, and how strong and brave it'll make her?

He searches my eyes and then pulls me against him. "Thanks," he breathes into my hair. "It's good to hear that. From you."

I kiss his chest, his heart, and he tells me that he's addicted…to me.

And I tell him I'm addicted too.

OOOOOOOOO

It's overwhelming how lost I feel right now.

It's ridiculous really. I've been on my own for a while now, yet sitting here on the couch by myself, I feel like I'm floating all alone on a little blow-up raft in the middle of a huge, black ocean.

So I stare at the TV, not really seeing what's there while I replay every moment of this weekend with Edward from beginning to end. From the moment he called me during my date with James to those last fifteen or so minutes up against the door while he tried to leave again and again, and as soon as he'd wander a couple of feet away, he'd turn back for one last kiss. Over and over, until time was just cut too close and Mel had to get picked up.

"I'm going to go crazy without you tonight."

"I'm going crazy already…"

"I'm going crazy," I repeat to myself quietly.

Yes, I'm addicted, obsessed, and it's a beautiful addiction. I know what true need is now, and it's not what Eli once told me it was; it's not control or submission, or sharing the one you crave, the one you're supposed to be devoted to.

I shake my head quickly to dispel those thoughts and the images they conjure because he was wrong; so, so wrong, and it took me a while to figure out just how wrong he was, but I did. And now…now I have Edward. He's what I need, what I crave. Not promiscuity nor back doors and secret clubs and made-up rules.

I close my eyes, pushing it all down, down, down and replacing it with Edward, and I fill my lungs with him because I can still smell him all around me, and I breathe. Just breathe.

When the phone startles me, I open my eyes and grab for it quickly, grinning when I see his name flash on my screen. A quick look at the clock over the wall shows me that it's seven forty-five p.m.

"Hello?"

"Hey," he breathes, and I hear the smile and relief in that one, softly spoken word. "You miss me yet?" he asks lowly.

I chuckle. "Yeah. A lot." I won't play games with him. I won't pretend I'm not addicted.

"Me too," he whispers again. We're both silent for a few seconds, and then in the background I hear a commotion. "Alright, alright, hold on!" he says much louder now. "Hold on, Bella."

"Pain-in-the-ass," I hear muttered, but it sounds muffled, like he's pulled the phone away from his mouth.

"Bella?" An excited voice comes on the line.

"Mel?"

"Bella! Yes! Woo-hoo! Yes! Uncle Edward and Bella sittin' in a tree, k-i-s-s- Hey, gimme the phone back!"

There's more shuffling around in the background before Edward comes back on the line.

"Still worried about Mel's reaction?"

A/N: Thoughts? Love hearing from you guys. Makes me warm and tingly. :)

So the date is over, and next week, it's back to the real world…

Twitter: PattyRosa817

Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.

Have a great weekend!