BPOV
On Wednesday, after U.S. History and just before American Lit, Angela snags me off the lawn, and we head over to Hallowed Grounds for a cup of something hot to warm our frozen bones. It's hardly the end of September, and already the air is crystalizing into an arctic chill. The leaves have yellowed, and it's a startling effect against the backdrop of the pale blue granite of the mountains, the supple verdant pines.
"So dish," Angela says as we wait for our coffee. Her milky blue eyes are a stark contrast to her long, dark hair, her pale as paper skin. She's pretty in a haunting way.
I fill her in on where I've been spending my nights.
"So, basically, staying with those two is like minoring in Sexology." I twist a lock of hair around my finger while picturing a very naked, very sweaty Edward panting over me. "Did I just make up a new major?"
"Sexology, huh? I bet you'd like to minor in Edward Cullen." She purrs into the idea. "I'm sort of majoring in vibrators at the moment. Did I just say that out loud? God I hate my ex." She shakes the thought away. "Anyway, I'd help you out, but I've got two roommates too many at the moment. So"—she leans in and bites down over her Russian red lips—"on a scale of one to bed, how interested are you in Edward?"
"Well—he took me to the Sky Lab last weekend." I artfully evade the question with a fact. "That place was all stainless steel and glass. I was completely dizzy by the end of the night." I leave out the fact it was Edward's kisses, the physical act of him twirling me while his tongue probed the landscape of my mouth that actually caused my head to spin.
"And?" Her pale eyes peer under her bangs, and she looks serious as shit while awaiting an answer.
"And, I assure you, no vibrators were harmed during the course of our evening." The only thing vibrating against me was Edward, and God knows he sent my insides quivering right down to my penis pocket—not that I've ever put anything in it that even remotely resembled a penis. "Maybe we shared a kiss." The sweet memory of that hot exchange wafts through my mind, and my girl parts spasm just thinking about his hands roaming over me. I loved the way his embrace was gentle at times—hard and forceful at others. Who needs the battery response squad when you've got Edward and his biceps to keep your vagina entertained? Not that he entertained the lower half, but still. Swear to God, if he were here my panties might spontaneously combust. Just thinking about him has me sitting in a puddle. "Okay, it may have been one, long, smoking hot kiss."
"He kissed you?" She gives an open mouthed moan as if it were the sweetest thing. And it is because, for one, he doesn't require double A batteries.
Once our lattes are ready, we head over to the pot-bellied stove, glowing with a crackling fire. The scent of fresh cut wood bites through the air, penetrating the thick scent of coffee, and the combination makes me heady.
A girl with long fiery red hair waves a hand, and Angela speeds us in her direction.
"Bella, this is Victoria." She nods over at the gorgeous Goth-like girl. "She hates people. Vicki—Bella." Angela pulls out a seat, and we join her at the tiny table. Victoria has long, curly, bright red hair with magenta highlights, and her eyes illuminate her face a lemony hazel. She's beyond gorgeous, and a part of me wonders if she's a tally mark on Edward's wall. And for that speculative reason alone, I secretly dislike her. A lot.
"I don't hate people." Her lips curl at the thought. "I hate people with penises."
"Nice." I muse. And I sort of like her better after that misanthropic comment. It takes the edge off any jealous feelings I was ready and willing to nurture.
"Victoria is the resident baker at Whitney Briggs." Angela holds a hand out to her as if making a formal introduction. "She specializes in all things delicious, including penis cupcakes so I suggest you buddy up. This girl has the potential to keep us in cake pops for life."
Victoria wags a finger. "I prefer the term balls on a stick. The blue ones are my favorite." She cuts a hard look at the poor boys sitting across from us.
Okay, I like her a whole lot, now that I know she's more into skewering Edward's assets than licking them. I give her a wide brimming smile.
Angela peers over the mound of books on the table. "You have anything tall, dark, and chocolate lurking on your plate?"
"Not today." Victoria clears the area to make room for our drinks. "Besides, I have a feeling any baking I do will be few and far between this year. They remodeled the commons area over the summer and took the kitchen out in favor of a pool table. Now I'll have to beg the caf to let me use the facility."
"Sounds like it's back to the Easy Bake for you." Angela gives a brief frown.
"So, what's new?" Victoria takes a sip of her coffee and nods into Angela.
"The drama department is putting on Les Mis, and I'm thinking about auditioning for the part of Fantine."
"Oh!" Victoria's face puckers dramatically. "Death and dying in the land of the miserable. Can we get free tickets?"
"Don't you always?"
"That sounds like fun," I say. Angela is so gorgeous it's hard to believe she wouldn't get the part. I glance back at the redhead across from me as if Victoria were coming into focus. She looks more than a little familiar. "Hey, I think you're in my building—Prescott Hall?" I tilt into her. "You're the one with a poster of a cat that tells me to F off on the way to my room." Or at least it did while I was still residing at the palace of perversion, but I leave that part out.
"Correction, old room." Angela pulls her chin back. "She's shacking up with Edward Cullen."
Victoria looks impressed as hell as if I've pulled off the roommate coup of the century. "Does his harem know about this?"
"Technically, I'm crashing with my brother, Emmett." I glance to Angela. "And, to be honest, I don't really care what Edward's harem might think." True story. "Edward and I are just buddies. And I'm quoting."
"Ooh!" Angela perks to life at my battle cry. "Sounds like we went from a hot kiss to cold shoulder in a single bound." Her dark brows swoop in like bats in flight. "You know he's a notorious playboy, right? I wouldn't bother pining for him. A leopard like Edward can't change his spots for anyone."
"Can't or won't?" I'm not sure which is worse.
"Both." Angela nods as if she knows him well enough to attest to his stance on commitment.
"That's too bad." I twirl the warm cup in my hand. "I mean, that kiss we shared was amazing." It was like one long strung out orgasm that's left my entire body throbbing for the past few days.
"Kiss as in singular?" Angela looks suspicious. "I've seen that boy in action. I don't think that's possible."
"Oh, it is," I'm quick to assure her of Edward's tongue twisting superpowers. "After the bar closed, we indulged in one, long, never-ending kiss that greeted the sun when it finally showed up. We sat right there in that parking lot for hours. It was magic."
"Oh, hon"—Angela grimaces into the thought—"there's a lot of false magic in the parking lot of a bar at three in the morning." She says it with a heavy heart as if she knew firsthand. "He was probably feeling you out to see if he was about to get lucky."
"And I would have happily let him." I take a careful sip of my coffee as an image of me sitting naked on the hood of his truck blips through my mind. The list of things we could have done in that parking lot is endless. "But, the truth is, that kiss was sort of hard won. I practically had to beg. I guess he's just not that into me."
Angela and Victoria exchange looks before breaking out in a laugh.
"Have you seen yourself?" Angela's eyes expand like silver dollars. "You're a freaking brunette version of Barbie. Half the girls in Prescott Hall breathed a sigh of relief last weekend because they can finally bring their boyfriends around again."
"Yeah, right." I glance at the ceiling. "Half the girls at Prescott couldn't pick me out of a line up."
"Angela's right." Victoria leans in. "I'd question if Edward's dick were in working order if he wasn't into you. Besides, I've seen the skanks he's bedded, and trust me it's not an impressive list. You're like the Holy Grail compared to the slut spectacular he's been starring in for years. Of course, he'd want you."
"I'd like to think so, but a part a me just doesn't believe it's true."
A blonde in skin-tight jeans and tall furry boots saunters in. She's got on a giant fuzzy hat that looks as if she shoved a rabbit's ass over her head and a tiny silk scarf sits neat around her neck like a choker. I recognize her from our bizarre early morning encounter the other day—Edward's latest not-so-greatest bed buddy, Heidi.
"Speaking of skanks he's bedded," I whisper as she speeds on over.
"Becca?" Her dark eyes round out as she narrows in on me. Her sickly sweet perfume clots up the air, dowsing all the oxygen out of the room.
"Bella," I correct.
"I don't really care what your name is." Her jaw clenches, and her entire head shakes like she's eighty. "You missed the first day of rush and made me look like an a-s-s. Do you want in at Alpha Chi or not?"
"Y-e-s." The thought of witnessing the parade of tramps walk in and out of my brother's bedroom all semester makes my stomach turn. Not to mention the vocal effects that have seeped into my nightmares. The oohs, the ahhs, the right there, faster, please and thank you, and my all-time favorite fuck me like a roadside bitch. And don't even get me started on the screams and giggles, the moans and groans. I've dreamed of dying barn animals for three nights in a row. Thank God Edward's penis has voluntarily issued a cease and desist order to females everywhere while I'm squatting on their couch, or I'd literally go insane.
Heidi sharpens her chocolate chip eyes at me. "The next meeting is Saturday night at nine. Don't even think of missing it. Alpha Chi needs you, and an Alpha never lets her sisters down." She turns on her fuzzy heels and makes a beeline out the door.
"Alpha Chi needs you, Becca," Angela mocks. "For the record, Heidi Flannery is a j-o-k-e. I may have to disown you if you cross over to the dark side."
"Edward didn't seem to think she was a j-o-k-e when she tumbled out of his b-e-d." I chew on the inside of my cheek as an image of the two of them mattress dancing clouds my mind. "Anyway, she had it backward, I need them. My roommate at Prescott is having marathon sex with real live human vibrators, and I can't get any work done with all that grunting—her hairy ass suitors waving at me while she bounces on their laps. We're talking serious trampoline action—emphasis on the tramp."
Angela and Victoria laugh until tears roll down their cheeks. It's nice to know they're easily entertained.
"I would have paid to see your face!" Victoria mimics the douchebag waving.
"Believe me, it's not worth the price of admission," I lament. "Besides, she's been nothing but inconsiderate—even he took a little time out of the thigh thumping to acknowledge my presence. She hasn't bothered to say good morning once—well, at least not with her lips. I've sort of made friends with the Pointer Sisters—Thing One and Thing Two. They're more than friendly with me."
Victoria lights up the place with a high-pitched cackle.
Angela leans in with an incredulous look on her face. "You named them?"
"I had to. It was getting lonely, and it was like they're always trying to get my attention. They're like two bloated puppies, happy to see me."
Angela joins Victoria in the laugh fest once again, and any moment now I expect a puddle of urine to form around them.
I guess I could see why they find my relationship with another girl's boobs slightly amusing, only I don't feel like doubling over and slapping the table silly at the moment. The only thing I feel like slapping silly is Jessica.
"Bella." Angela dabs the tears from her eyes with her pinkies. "I can see why you've lost your mind and think Alpha Chi is some kind of Godsend, but it's like six blocks from Edward. If you want to land Cullen, you need to keep in close proximity to him and his penis. I think you should thank the Pointer Sisters for putting you in a prime position."
"I totally agree." Victoria shakes her head emphatically. "I mean, think of the possibilities involved when taking up the same living space. Have you had an 'accidental' run-in after a shower?"
"No." Although the thought of a dripping wet Edward makes my mouth water. I can see his rippling chest with water beading over it, slowly running tracks to the defined V just above his forbidden forest of pleasure while he precariously holds his towel just before it drops to his feet.
I catch a breath.
Angela shakes her head. "Any late night chats by the fire?"
"They don't have a fireplace," I'm quick to point out. "Besides he'll get sick of me if I stay there forever. It'll take away the air of mystery we've got going." I reflect on this for a moment. "A little too much mystery if you ask me. Personally I'd like to see his Hardy boys solve a few mysteries with my Nancy Drew."
"Very funny but you're getting bogged down with details." Angela snips. "I think the problem here is he sees you as his best friend's little sister. You need to cure him of that and fast."
"Little sister syndrome." Victoria nods into this as if it were a real disorder. "You'd better step up your game. That's a hard one to break."
"Step up my game," I repeat.
"Less clothes, more talking," Angela says it stern, like an order. "Sexy talking."
"It's called flirting." Victoria over annunciates as if I were from another planet and right about now it feels like it. The planet Pluto to be exact which, ironically, the solar system relegated to little sister status not too long ago. I can see myself now on the lunar-like landscape sitting in a pile of rainbow-colored vibrators. God knows there aren't enough batteries in the universe to quench this ache Edward has set off deep inside me.
"Flirting." I let out a sigh. Truthfully I hadn't really done any of that, not sure I know how. Suddenly a book boyfriend doesn't sound like such a bad idea.
"If he doesn't know you're interested, he might think it's a red light." Angela holds a finger in the air. "I bet Emmett threatened to twist his balls off if he even looked in your direction."
"Emmett did mention something to him when I first arrived—but Edward kissed me. So that sort of debunks that ball-twisting theory." Then again, Edward did refer to us as "kissing buddies" which sounds like a significant downgrade from "fuck buddies," both of which somehow leave a platonic aftertaste in my mouth.
Angela straightens in her seat. Her face bleaches out.
"What?" Both Victoria and I sing it out like a chorus.
"Has he mentioned anything about his past?" She presses her lips tight as if sealing up the damning evidence.
"No," I say it so fast it sounds like a chirp. "Why? Should he?"
Angela cuts a look to Victoria. "Only when he's ready." She cinches her backpack over her shoulder and picks up her coffee. "I'd better run. I'm going to be late for Sociology."
I clamp onto her wrist before she can make another move. "What happened in his past that was so terrible?" All sorts of wild scenarios fly through my brain—weapons of mass destruction, a secret divorce, whips and chains…Although that last one I sort of approve of.
"I've known Edward since we were kids." Angela shakes her head. "There are some things he's just not ready to talk about." She bites down on her lip, and a bloom of grief takes over her features. "Look, go easy on him. When he's ready, if he's ready, I'm sure he'll tell you everything." She frees her wrist from my grip. "And, if he does—that means you're pretty special. I haven't heard him talk about the past…well, ever." She takes a step. "Just flirt with him. Most guys just want to have fun, and he'd be insane if he didn't want to have fun with you."
She takes off just as a flicker of lightning ignites outside the window.
"Storm's coming." Victoria takes a deep breath. "Look, don't worry too much about his past. Whatever it is, it's history. You can be his future, Bella. Just let him know you're interested." She picks up her coffee and gives a quick wave before taking off.
I could be Edward's future. I like the sound of that.
Bella and Edward. It has a nice ring to it.
I hope he thinks so, too.
…
By the time I finish up with my classes and head to the apartment, both Emmett and Edward are watching TV, and, unfortunately, each of them has a skanky plus one on the couch with them. Just craptastic.
I give a little wave as I stand awkwardly in the doorway, suddenly feeling like a fifth wheel. Literally.
Emmett is stretched out on one couch with a buxom blonde draped over him like a blanket. Edward and a dark-haired girl that I swear is in my music appreciation class take up the other, although they're sitting less than an arm's length apart. She's pretty in a tragically obvious way—tanned, toned, paper white teeth that go off and on like flashlights as she laughs at the television.
"Want to watch a movie?" Emmett nods over to me.
"What movie?" I feign interest as I make my way across the room.
"Aliens and Indians. It's a classic, right up there with Gone with the Wind." He casually taps his gal pal over the bottom with a nice crisp slap as if to annunciate his point.
"Nice," I whisper.
Emmett has always had an odd fascination with aliens, so I don't see why his cinematic comparison surprises me. He used to be all about the X-Files, but now it's all about the Sex-Files. "Sure. I'll change real quick and be right back." I take a moment to scrutinize the fashion sense, or rather nonsense, on display by team estrogen.
Interesting. Both skanks are dressed to impress with nary the storm front in mind. It's obvious those boob-hugging tank tops, the skintight minis, are meant to foster hard-ons more than they are to keep anyone toasty as the weather takes a turn for the nasty. The only thing about to get nasty around here is them. I glance over at the girl glued to Edward's side with her heavily-lined eyes and eyebrows that look as if they were penciled in by a clown at the fair. Two can play at that game.
I head into the bathroom and dump my makeup bag on the counter until it turns into a pile of MAC vomit, producing enough calk and color to transform me into a guaranteed runner up at Miss Transvestite U.S.A.
A pair of false eyelashes I bought last year at Halloween, mock me. They have a thread of tinsel in them, but it's so damn dark in the living room, I doubt anyone will notice. I pluck them out of their casing and spend a small eternity adhering them to my lids. Hmm… I look…interesting—um…defined. Oh, hell, I look downright scary. I take off my Whitney Briggs sweatshirt and dig into my duffle bag until I produce a skimpy lace tank and my barely-there jean shorts I accidentally on purpose swiped from Jessica-with-the-wienie-obsession. It's not like I really meant to steal them. If I didn't fear a gangbang was imminent, I wouldn't have left in such a damn hurry. Anyway these Daisy Dukes are sort of my good luck charm because I happened to be wearing them last Friday night when Edward and I engaged in a Guinness worthy lip-lock.
I trade my sensible nude colored bra for my shiny black push up that makes my boobs feel as if they're standing on the edge of a very tall building while my nipples peer over the ledge with that one-eyed look of terror. I throw on the lace top and saunter out of the bathroom while the girls bounce in rhythm. I bet they're offended that I haven't bothered to name them like I did Jessica's. Desperate One and Desperate Two sounds about right but, sadly, doesn't have a fun ring to it.
I reenter the living room only to find that the bimbo next to Edward has made herself comfortable with her legs draped over his lap while she greedily lays her head on a throw pillow. I so would have let him have the pillow. She lifts her leg and her foot starts to wander up his chest, climbing further north until she's casually relaxed her thigh over his shoulder—sort of giving him a perverse hug with her knee.
"Take a seat." Emmett motions me to the floor in front of the television as if I were a three-year-old, but I turn down his offer and strategically land myself on the lounger across from Edward.
"You can't see anything from there." Emmett frowns over at me as if he's genuinely concerned about my movie experience. Little does he know I'm facing in the right direction to satisfy my viewing pleasure.
"I can see just fine." I glance at the T.V. Actually, he's right. I can't see shit. But what I can see is the brunette bimbo giving Edward a massage with her freshly manicured toes. Eww. Her left leg has meandered as well, and her knee has precariously placed itself over the zipper of his jeans. She's flexible, I'll give her that. Her legs are wide open, her skirt is hiked up rather ingloriously around her hips, and, from this vantage point, it looks as if her pink G-string is flossing her in all the wrong places. My gaze floats up his chest, to his blessed by God face, and oh—he's staring right at me. His cheek cinches up one side, and he raises a finger as if he's waving, so I give a little wave back and feel silly in the process.
Crap.
I sink in my seat and revert my attention to the movie just as an alien unhinges its jaw and swallows an unsuspecting Indian chief whole.
My face burns with heat. I wish an alien would swoop down and swallow me whole.
Shit. Edward saw me. Even worse he saw me checking out his gal pal's love canal, and now he probably thinks I'm playing for the other team. Stupid Emmett for even implying it a few weeks back—and even more stupid me for substantiating his theory by engaging in a crotch watch.
Emmett leans up on his elbows and peers over.
"What the hell's that thing hanging off your face?" He leans in further to inspect me. "Dude, you got a bug on your eye?"
I glare at him for a moment. Note to self, embarrass the living shit out of Emmett Brighton, soon and often.
"It's nothing." I sink further into my seat and glance over at the exit as if I were planning an Alcatraz worthy escape.
The blonde draped over my brother looks into me with a blank face. "Who is she?" Her hair lies over his forehead, and it looks as if Emmett is wearing a bad Halloween wig.
"That's my little sis." There's a sense of pride in his voice when he says it—the kind you reserve for the family pet.
"Aww!" The blonde sits up and coos into me as if I had morphed into an infant. "And those fake eyelashes are so cute!" She brings her hand to her chest as if I've touched her on an emotional level. "So, like, what grade are you in?"
Grade? "I'm a freshman," I'm quick to apprise her of my quasi-adult standing.
"Really?" She gawks at me as if it were impossible. "I would have thought you were a lot younger. I have a sister in junior high, and you sort of remind me of her."
Just crap.
The brunette molesting Edward with her kneecap leans forward. "You have some lipstick right here." She points just under her nose. "I wasn't going to say anything, but it's not like you're trying to impress anyone." She strums her fingers across his chest like an afterthought. "You know, if you ever want tips on how to do your makeup, I could totally teach you. I have about nine tutorials up on YouTube right now. You should check them out." She looks over at Edward. "I love playing with makeup. Plus it helps with my modeling."
Great. I've just been reduced to a seventh grader, and she's a model. I sink in my seat until my bottom actually slips off the edge and watch the remainder of Aliens and Indians until my ass goes numb.
After the movie, Emmett sends the blonde packing to his bedroom with a firm squeeze to her behind, and she giggles her way down the hall. I'm sure she's amped up just thinking of all the loving, touching, squeezing about to take place.
Edward and the super model hit the fridge, probably to load up on carbs they'll soon burn up in his bedroom, and I'm left in the living room all by my clown-faced lonesome. Suddenly going back to Prescott Hall and watching Jessica engage in a series of naked calisthenics doesn't sound like such a bad idea. In fact, I'd rather subject my brain to her sexual performance piece than watch Edward score a homerun with a runway model.
Emmett barrels toward me with his dimples depressed in a frown.
"What's going on?" There's a tenderness in his voice that I hadn't heard since I've touched down in North Carolina. It's the phone-call version of my brother. The one I'm far more used to, even though he was nothing but a lie.
"Nothing's going on." I cross my arms over my chest in an effort to hide my cleavage. It's like I've got my boobs set at the right trajectory to launch to the moon, and he's the last person I'd want to witness the intergalactic event.
"Get some clothes on, would you? I get it. You want to get comfortable before bed. But I don't want anyone seeing you like this. You're practically naked." He glances over his shoulder at Edward and his pop tart of the night. "There's a pervert on the loose, and I don't want him to get the wrong message." He pulls me into a long, strong hug.
"Yeah, well"—I shoot a look to Edward who currently has his back to me—"the pervert has a hot date. I seriously doubt he notices I'm even in the building. "
"Good. Let's keep it that way." He tousles my hair and gives a wry smile. "Night kiddo."
"Goodnight." I watch as Emmett struts into the hall with his bad boy swagger.
Edward and his gal pal stride toward the exit. "Goodnight!" She waves over at me. "Get in touch with me if you ever want to learn to do your makeup. You should never just slop it on like that."
What's this? The star of Edward's bedroom rodeo is calling it a night? She whisks her makeup loving, catwalk strutting self right out the door, and Edward seals it in what I'd like to think is a good riddance kind of way. Doubtful.
"She left in a hurry." I head over to the fridge and pluck out a water bottle. "Big shoot in the morning?" I don't know why I went there. It's probably true.
"Maybe." He gives a sideways grin and joins me at the breakfast counter. "But I wouldn't really know. I told her I was tired." His silver eyes ride up and down my features, and I can feel his gaze as it travels over every inch, heavy and wanting. "What's with the—?" He motion in a circle around his face.
"Oh…" I bite down hard on my bottom lip to keep from spontaneously bursting into tears. Here I was a trying to seduce him, and I've only made myself look ridiculous.
"You look pretty." He pushes his shoulder into mine playfully. "And, for the record, you don't need it. You're a natural beauty."
My body bisects with heat. One day I'm going to spontaneously combust, and it'll all be Edward Cullen's fault.
"Thank you." I lean in a little in the event his investigative efforts decide to drift south, but they don't. It's becoming clear as the fake eyelash that just floated down from my face that Edward thinks of me as nothing more than Emmett's kid sister. "So, tell me something about you. I mean, I showed you the girls the second I got on campus, surely that must entitle me to some rudimentary information other than your first and last name." Crap. A sinking feeling settles in my chest. I totally forgot he's harboring some deep dark secret from yesteryear.
"I like to cook."
"Really?" My insides loosen as I relax into him.
"No." The smile drops from his face as he shakes his head. "But I do like to eat— ice cream tops the list."
"You like ice cream?" For some reason this dairy connection we're experiencing makes my thighs tingle.
"Am I from the planet earth? Damn straight I like ice cream." That hotter-than-hell smile appears and disappears.
He rounds out the counter and pulls a carton from the freezer.
"Vanilla okay?" His cheek slides up one side. "I'm boring that way."
"Vanilla's perfect. And you strike me as a lot of things, but boring isn't one of them."
A part of me wants to bring up that kiss we shared—see if he wants another, but the aftertaste of desperation is already rising to the back of my throat like bile. Edward kisses a lot of girls. I guess I was just one of them.
Edward locks his eyes over mine as the grin slides down his face. He's bearing into me, speaking in some code I can't quite decipher. A static charge ignites the air between us as a smile tugs on his lips. His lids dip, and he's bedroom eyeing me for a moment before taking a breath and snapping back to reality.
He quickly busies himself with the task of scooping us each a bowl of ice cream then lures me to the sofa.
"So"—I slide in next to him with my legs crossed beneath me—"what do you do for fun outside of the bars? From what I hear there's a party on Greek row every night and twice on Sunday."
He shakes his head. "Nope, again, I'm pretty boring. Once in a while I'll tag along with your brother, but outside of work, there's not much to me. I try to head home, once or twice a month. I like hanging out with my mom and sister."
I melt a little on the inside. And here I thought he was this insatiable sex god. Well, he was until last weekend, but just the thought of him wanting to hang out with his family makes me want him twice as bad. I imagine his strong hot hands pouring over my body like oil. His heated kisses peppering my neck, behind my ear until he finally finds my lips, and I sigh with approval.
He gives a little smile, and my sweet spot clenches as if waving him in.
"That's really nice." I wish Edward were some big bully who gave new meaning to fornicating frat boys everywhere, but, he's not, he's a downright nice guy who just so happens to keep a careful accounting of the girls he has his way with.
"You should meet my sister." He tweaks my knee, and a fire rips up my leg, right to that secret place where no man has yet to venture, and my vagina drops to its knees, pleading for me to do something to usher this boy inside. "She's awesome," he continues. "And I know for a fact she'd love you."
"Really?" If I didn't know better I'd say it was a date—the meet the family rendition reserved for girlfriends the world over. "I would love to." Me and my vagina, "Can't wait." His sister would love me? Sure wish her brother would. Maybe that's what I want deep down inside, for Edward Edwards to fall madly in love with me. My entire body tingles as if nodding in agreement.
My cheeks fill with heat at the idea, and I lower my gaze to the floor. I feel ridiculous just entertaining the idea of Edward falling for me in that way.
"I'm headed home, weekend after next." He strokes his hand over my thigh in a seemingly innocent pass, but my muscles tremble for him to continue. My nipples perk to attention in the event his fingers dare to venture north. "You want to come with me?"
A breath gets trapped in my throat while my heart tries to evict itself from my chest. He wasn't asking the super model who likes to floss in delicate places to go home with him, or H-e-i-d-i from Alpha Chi Chi—he's asking me. But, then again, I shouldn't get my hopes up. He probably wants me to tag along as a play date for his sweet little sis while he and the super model bump and grind all weekend.
"I would love to go." I hear myself say, and it sounds strange, foreign coming from my lips. Am I actually agreeing to go away with Edward, whose penis has already qualified for the gynecological exploratory finals? Not that I wouldn't mind him exploring my gynecological needs, and God knows I have them.
"Good." He pushes into me, and this time our shoulders stay linked, forming a long line of heat that tunnels right down between my thighs.
He winces. "We might want to hold off on saying anything to Emmett." His brows tweak in the direction of my brother's bedroom. "I think he'd rearrange my man parts if he knew."
"I won't say a word," it comes from me slow, seductive. I can't believe I'm going away for an entire weekend with the most gorgeous guy on campus—on the planet, Pluto included. "I kind of like the idea of having a secret from my brother." I bat my lashes into him and note the silver shadow over my left eye. I reach up and pluck it off, and we share a quiet laugh.
We steady our gaze over one another, and the room stills around us. It's as if a fire ignited, rippling its way across all four walls. It's so damn hot that even the tank top and silly micro shorts I'm wearing feel like far too much to have on.
I lean in a little to see if he'll give.
Edward leans in, matching me inch for inch. His face is stone cold, but I can feel the wanting radiating off his skin like heat off a radiator grill.
"Kiss me," I whisper. My nipples tighten as if balling themselves in two tiny fists as they cheer me on. The word please is just about to leap from my lips.
His mouth curves in a devilish grin. Something tells me he loves to see me beg.
A door rattles in the hall, and Edward leans back, deep into the couch.
Emmett's blonde bimbo tiptoes to the bathroom wearing nothing but a tank top that she's holding over her freshly spanked bottom. Swear to God she's sporting a handprint on her left thigh.
No sign of my overprotective big bro. Clearly this was a false alarm. And now I'll never get that kiss.
"Goodnight, Bella." Edward gives his signature sad smile as he taps the wall on his way to bed.
"Night." I call after him unable to control my elation.
Edward wants me to spend an entire weekend with him, and my girl parts and me are already counting down the days.