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LadySharkey1 rocks my world by being the most amazing, kick-ass beta I could ever imagine.
12.
As Edward ran away from Bella, he was acutely aware of the fact that he was gasping. And it wasn't just because of the pace he was running. Or even from what could only be called the best fucking kiss of his entire life.
Nope, it was a full blown panic attack creeping up on him that made him wheeze.
What was it about that girl that made him want to reveal shit to her he'd never even thought about telling anybody else? How did she manage to strip him completely bare with just one look?
She made him want to be a good man—or at least a better man. A man who could stand next to her and not be worried about the way he was tainting her beauty and innocence. The problem was, though, that he wasn't quite sure if he could ever live up to that expectation. As completely rotten and profoundly unredeemable as he felt, he'd long given up the thought of any sort of lasting love.
He just wasn't cut out for it.
His life on the road meant that any relationship—even his sister and her kids—would have to be handled through phone calls and FaceTime conversations whenever he was touring and then, of course, there were always the enticements of life on the road.
And he wasn't just talking about the drugs.
Even if Bella could ever find it in herself to live with the fact that sometimes he just needed to medicate on whatever uppers or downers were readily available around him to make his life remotely bearable, he wasn't sure if he could remain true to her.
He'd never tried.
Even back in the days when he had thought he was in love with a woman, monogamy had been about as far away from his lifestyle as the earth from the moon. There was no high that could compare to the one he felt when he came off stage; the exhilaration and pent up energy needed a place to go before they would explode out of him. He wanted to prolong that feeling, knowing that when it left him, the crash would be ferocious. And prolonging it worked best through other highs.
And sex was always so readily available on the road; even if he'd try to put a stop to groupies sneaking backstage, he knew it was pointless. He'd seen enough over the years to know that the most determined among them would always find a way to get in; they either knew someone on the other side of the fence or it was because they didn't hesitate to drop to their knees and suck some bouncer cock if it would get them past security.
And they always managed to get to him when he was weak.
Back in those days, Tanya had been in no illusion of what exactly went on when he was on the road. Edward deemed himself a 'class A asshole' but not even he would go as far as to cheat on a woman brave enough to call herself his girl. She'd been the only woman who'd stuck with him for longer than two months and Edward had thought she was okay with his lifestyle.
At least, that's what she had said.
When she was confronted with it, though, it seemed that she'd somehow fooled herself into thinking she could live with it when in reality she couldn't. And it had eaten at her until there was nothing left to fight for.
Edward wasn't going to stand by and let that happen again. Not to himself but most of all not to a good woman; a woman who deserved to be loved by a good man.
A man who would make her happy, instead of one who would only cause her worry and pain.
For Bella, he could almost see himself giving up the whole fucking thing. He hadn't as much as thought about another woman ever since he'd first met her and, though the pills James had brought him were still taunting him from the place where he'd safely stashed them, he had been able to resist their call. Her call was simply stronger.
But would it last?
He wanted to be strong enough to answer that question with a resounding 'yes' but deep down inside he doubted himself. After all, when in his life had he ever mustered the strength to fight temptation? In all his years, he'd become accustomed to having everything brought to him on a silver platter, wherever and whenever he needed it.
Look at that morning.
And yet he couldn't bring himself to regret their kiss. Whatever kind of magic Bella Swan had wielded over him, it made him hunger for more, for in her eyes he could see a shimmer of hope for the man he might be and the future that man might have.
With her.
So being as confused as he was, he let off steam in the only way he'd ever known: by making music. Locking himself back inside the music room, his doubts, fears and desires poured out of him through melodies until, by the end of the afternoon, he had nothing left to create. The strain of being awake for almost forty-eight hours finally caught up on him as he slumped over the piano, the relaxation of his fingers forced a dissonant chord from the finely tuned instrument.
Sighing, he carried his weary, bone-tired body across the hallway to his room, once more thanking his sister for the mercy of having a downstairs guestroom.
Sleep came easily, just as it always did after he'd had a creative outburst. Once he'd poured all of himself into his music and neither his mind nor his fingers had anything left to give in them, he just crashed. Sometimes it was only for a couple of hours before his nightmares started to catch up with him, sometimes it was almost a day of blissful nothingness before he'd wake. But it always ended the same: bleeding faces above destroyed bodies and the knowledge his life was never going to be as good as it used to be again. It had been the same way for almost twenty-five years.
And people still wondered why he'd turned to drugs?
Waking up a few hours later in a familiar state of breathlessness and with his clammy hair sticking to his forehead, he wasted no time lamenting his state. Instead he got through his tried and tested routine of showering, shaving and putting on some clothes, his tense muscles slowly relaxing under the rays of burning hot water and the cool of his aftershave driving away the cobwebs his dreams had left behind.
Throwing the patio doors of his room open, he wasn't surprised to see that day had turned into night. What did surprise him, though, was the lone figure, perched on top of the railing that separated the deck from the beach.
"Bella." Her name was out of his mouth before he could think about checking himself; the desire to see her and talk to her overrode all common sense about leaving her alone.
Startling, she barely managed to catch herself from toppling from her perched seat. "I didn't hear you," she mumbled, her voice barely audible above the ocean breeze. "So…that's your room?"
"It's the guest room, yes," he confirmed, hopping up on the railing next to her, "And it happens to be the closest room to the music room, so I usually use it whenever I'm here."
"That makes sense." She nodded, her eyes still focused on something that wasn't him.
He sighed, judging from the way she studiously avoided him, that she'd been hurt by his hasty departure. "Look…about this morning—"
"I get it," she interrupted him. "I get why you had to walk away. It was too much all at once."
He didn't bother to hide his surprise. "So you don't think I'm an asshole?"
Finally looking at him, her eyes were slightly mocking and completely guarded. "I didn't say that, did I?"
"So I'm an asshole but you understand why I behave the way I do?" he filled in for her, feeling as uneasy as he always did whenever he caught her understanding the kind of shit he really wanted to hide.
"I do." Shrugging, she let out a big breath before she went on. "I know why you ran away and I know why everyone around me, including you in an offhand way, keeps warning me about not getting into anything with you but, still…, I can't help myself."
"You want to get into something with me?" he asked, knowing he was entering very dangerous territory. Still, he wanted to know if she felt the same things he did. He needed to know.
"Yes." The words sunk in like a brick; happiness and fear battled inside him as he picked up on her next words. "Even when I know it will probably end in heartbreak."
"I want to be the kind of man that would be proud to call himself yours," he admitted, matching her honesty with his as he went deeper with her than he ever had. "I don't know if I can, though."
"And I know I can't put up with it if you don't," she was quick to let him know, "but at the same time, I asked myself if all of those questions are still relevant or if I'm already in too deep."
Hopping off the fence, his hand stretched out to her as his heart hammered in his throat. The precipice they were on scared him as much as it made him want to jump. "Deep enough to put your trust in me?"
She didn't answer; her lip wedged in tightly between her lips as she placed her trembling little hand in his and allowed him to tug her down, her footsteps light against the wooden deck as she followed him into his room.
And straight into his heart.
"Bella…" he whispered, his hands closing around her slender shoulders as he touched his lips to hers. Once. Twice. Three times before they lingered.
And when they did, it was as good as it had been that morning; softness and fire dancing together and bringing both awareness and oblivion in a way he hadn't known before. At that moment, only the two of them existed.
In a tangled mess of tongues and hands, clothes were shed on their way to the bed. The awkwardness they felt at being physically naked only stood in the shadow of the greater step of baring their souls as he finally lay her down on his bed, her hair fanning out around her like a halo as he drank her in.
"You're perfect," he whispered, letting his fingers trace a trail from her from the base of her throat through the valley of her breasts and downwards until they met nothing but soft, yielding wetness. "I want you," he voiced, his words trailed off into a low groan as his fingers progressed upwards again, his lips kissing skin wherever they could reach.
"Then take me," she breathed, her hands dug into his hair as she pulled his lips towards hers. "Before I change my mind."
Kissing her, their bodies aligned, the heat of her already so warm and welcoming even as he did nothing but lay against her.
She was perfect.
She was everything.
Reaching into the bedside table, he found the stash of condoms he'd kept there since the last time he'd visited his sister's house, quickly slipping one on before aligning himself with her again. "Are you sure?"
She nodded, her strong little hands grabbing hold of him as her big, honest eyes burrowed right into his soul. "I want this, Edward."
It was all he needed to push forward; her heat enveloped him in a warm embrace as he slowly slid into her. "Jesus…fuck!" Closing his eyes, he steeled himself above her, trying to keep his mind in the game when all it wanted was to spiral out of control.
"It's okay," she spoke, her hands trembling as she brushed a few strands of hair out of his face. "I feel it, too…"
Crushing his lips to hers, their bodies started to find their pace, moving together, working together as they pulled and let go. Soft moans filled the air as he sped up, her hands caressing the crevice of his back, spurring him on as she neared her release.
And then they were falling; she first and he following soon after as the clamping of her walls around him and the look of her face pushed him over the edge.
In that moment, it was as if the past had never existed.
Even if it did, it didn't matter.
In that moment, he felt himself reborn.
Thoughts?