Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.

Chapter Twelve

"I have a confession to make," I announced once we were in Edward's apartment.

"Shoot," he urged, flipping on the light switch and shutting the front door behind him.

I walked into the living room, slipping off my flats and making myself comfortable on his couch. "These are my confessions," I began to say as he busied himself by turning on the television. "Just when I thought I said all I could say, my chick on the side said she got one on the way-"

"It's concerning you don't realize you're quoting Usher right now," he pointed out, sitting on the couch and propping his long, jean-clad legs up on the coffee table.

"Right. Sorry. Knee-jerk reaction to hearing the word 'confession', I guess."

His lips curled into a smile as he bumped my knee with his knuckles. "I have a confession as well. You first, though."

"I'm pregnant," I blurted out, mentally slapping the shit out of my face once the words escaped my lips. "Fuck. I'm sorry. No, no. I'm not pregnant. I realized my confession was completely lame and I felt like I should say something really important."

Edward blinked. Twice. "I need beer. Do you want a beer?" he asked, placing his palms on his thighs as he slowly stood from the couch. "That is, if you're not expecting?"

"The only thing I'm expecting is for you to kick me out," I muttered, stealing the remote he'd abandoned on the couch. "But, yeah, thanks. I'd love a beer." Or ten.

I was grateful for the two minutes alone while Edward disappeared in the kitchen. But then those two minutes were up and he was walking towards me, holding out a beer and sitting closer to me than he was before he left.

"What were you going to say?" He swigged his beer, staring expectantly. "You know, before you announced your pregnancy."

"I was going to say that I was the one who chose the crappy movie, not Emmett," I explained, sinking lower on the couch, wishing I knew how to converse properly.

"Now I understand your reason for wanting to admit something a bit more scandalous. That confession was sub-par, even for you," he said with a shake of his head. "Besides, I already suspected you chose the movie."

"Whatever." My first gulp of beer and I managed to chug half the bottle. "What were you going to confess?"

"I'm the one who got you pregnant," he said immediately.

I let out a sigh, not able to keep from smiling. "Seriously, Edward."

"Okay. Seriously? You may or may not have tried to make out with me the night Peter broke up with you." His expression changed from apologetic to amused in a matter of seconds.

"Wait, what?" I frowned, trying to remember exactly what happened that night. All I seemed to recall was Paula Deen slurring the word 'butter' and me kicking Edward's ass at table tennis on the Wii.

"I don't remember that. At all."

"That usually happens after the fifth tequila shot," he teased, quickly shrugging. "I kind of told you, anyway. The next morning. Remember?"

"You said you were joking," I accused, voice rising at least five octaves.

"Yeah, but I was joking about joking."

"You mean you lied to me? You're a liar!"

"Hey, look," he suddenly said, turning off the television and angling his body towards me, letting his arm rest on the back of the couch. "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd freak out and get all weird."

"I don't freak out!" I argued, standing from the couch hastily. He stared pointedly at me and I slowly sat back down. "I don't get weird."

"You just told me that you were pregnant."

"I don't get that weird?" I asked, knowing this was an argument I was going to lose.

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"No. God. Please don't." Though it was merely my second gulp, I decided it was time to finish my beer. Oh my God. I was an alcoholic. Or just really parched.

"Don't be mad," he whispered, fingers brushing over my shoulder. "I should've told you."

I bit the inside of both my cheeks. "It's fine," I murmured, unable to tear my focus from his mouth. "So, we didn't kiss that night?"

"No."

"And then a couple of nights later I got drunk again and wanted to sleep with you..." I trailed off, feeling the heat in my cheeks as I spoke the words.

He smiled, lips pressed together. "Yes."

"I'm afraid of what I'll try to force upon you tonight," I said, laughing lightly to hide my embarrassment.

"Don't be embarrassed," he murmured, leaning closer. "I mean, it's not like you offered me a footjob."

"Wait." I held up a hand. "You're not into footjobs?"

"I could be. If that's what you're into."

I choked out a laugh. "Edward." I reached over and let my hand tangle in his hair, giving in to my urge to touch him. "It's oddly sweet that you'd let me give you a footjob if I wanted to."

He laughed, realizing, or maybe not caring, how ridiculous it sounded. "Well, I like you. I already told you that."

I swallowed, pulling my hand from his hair. "Yeah," I breathed out, looking between us. "You did tell me that."

"It's only been two minutes, but do you want another beer?" he offered, his long, cool fingers finding their place on the back of my neck.

"Please," I said, a little too pleadingly. "I mean, sure. Yeah. Cool. That'd be sweet. Thanks...bro."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't 'bro' me, Bella."

"Right-O," I replied, thankful that I had enough self-restraint to not speak the word in an accent.

The confused look on his face led me to groan loudly and drop my head in my hands, taking a much needed breath.

"I can't do this!" I screamed, flailing my arms wildly in front of my face.

"You can't do what?" he asked, sitting back down. "Have a normal conversation with me?"

"Exactly. I can't. I can't do it because all I'm thinking about are your lips and the way your fingers are delicately holding on to the long neck of your beer bottle-"

"Delicately? You couldn't have used a different word?"

"Fine. Long, hot man fingers. Is that better?" I asked, exasperated, ignoring his grin. "I don't know, Edward. I'm freaking the fuck out because I want you and you like me and I don't get like this around guys. I don't."

"I know," he agreed, softening his gaze. "But I like that you only act this way around me."

"It's annoying," I whined. "Aren't you annoyed with me?"

"It's entertaining," he countered, shaking his head.

"Just stop thinking, Bella," he suggested, as if it were that easy. "You need to stop overthinking this." His eyes searched my face, no longer looking amused at my freak out.

"I can't. It's in my blood!" I cried, standing to pace the living room. "Overthinking is in my blood. It's a curse, a disease, a-"

"Bella." His voice was hard, catching me off guard and forcing me to end my rant. "Stop."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"C'mere," he commanded in a gritty voice. I did as he said, slowly walking over to where he was sitting on the couch.

"What?" I asked, merely a whisper.

"What can I do to help you stop thinking?" he asked, lips twitching.

I shrugged, staring down at him.

"Come closer," he urged, holding out a hand.

I stepped within reaching distance, allowing him to grab my waist, forcing me to stand in between his thighs. My chest rose and fell as his hands trailed over my ass, then down my thighs. Goose bumps broke out over my skin and he smiled, letting his fingers dig into my inner thigh just below the hem of my shorts.

"What are the chances you'll stop freaking out if I kiss you right now?" he questioned, not bothering to hide his grin.

Rolling my eyes, I placed both hands on his shoulders and leaned down. He exhaled, brushing his nose with mine, lips so close.

"I won't freak out. I promise," I mumbled, closing the distance and kissing him.

"Is this okay?" he asked, keeping his eyes on mine as his fingers brushed lightly over the fabric of my shorts between my parted thighs.

I nodded my assent, letting out a shaky breath.

"I need to hear you say it," he demanded roughly.

"It's more than okay."

He licked his lips and locked his jaw, considering his next move. "Take these off."

With my eyes still locked on his, I slowly brought my hands to the button of my shorts, carefully unzipping them and letting them fall to my feet. Then his eyes left mine and he inhaled a sharp breath through his teeth before pulling me down to straddle him on the couch.

"Bell. You just..." he mumbled incoherently, running his hands up my back and latching onto my neck, pulling me down to meet his lips.

I moaned into his mouth when I felt his hands on my ass, rocking my hips against his. With a needy whimper, I slowly ground against him, feeling him grow harder against me.

"You feel so good," I whispered in a shaky breath, placing kisses along his jaw and neck. "Take off your pants," I begged, tugging at his jeans.

One more kiss and he carefully placed me next to him on the couch so he could remove his jeans. Once they were off, he sat back down and pulled off his hoodie and shirt in one swift move. He grabbed my waist, groaning as I resumed my spot on his lap.

A slight shudder ran through him as I ran my fingers from his stomach to his chest. Letting out a shaky laugh, he laced my fingers with his.

"Bella." My name rolled off his tongue, sounding so different than any other time he'd uttered it before.

He reached up under my shirt, fingers lightly skating over my stomach before he placed his palm on my breast, his rough fingers brushing against my nipple. I rocked my hips against his, groaning from the sensation of his dick rubbing against me. But it wasn't enough.

"It's not enough," I panted, my stomach flipping as his other hand moved between us, pushing the material of my underwear to the side.

"I want to touch you," he growled. "Can I?"

I squirmed on his lap, trying to brush myself against his fingers. He leaned up to kiss me, still not bothering to touch me even though his fingers were so close, right there.

"Edward," I whined. "I need you to touch me."

He began smiling, lips swollen and red, eyes half open, causing my stomach to flip for a second time. I lifted my ass until his fingers lightly brushed against me, doing nothing to ease the ache between my legs.

"Please," I begged again, inhaling a breath as he slowly slid one, then two fingers inside me.

"God. Bella," he hissed. "You're so wet for me."

"'Cause I want you," I admitted, closing my eyes and dropping my head against his shoulder.

"You do, don't you?" he asked in a rough voice, curling his fingers and brushing his thumb against my clit. "Tell me how much you want me."

"You know," I panted, breathing against his neck. "You already know."

"I want to hear it," he murmured, slowly removing his fingers.

"I want you so fucking bad." I pouted at the loss, reaching a hand between us and finding its way inside his boxers.

"Fuck," he groaned, watching in awe as he pushed his fingers back inside me.

I tightened my grip on the base of his dick, sliding my hand up and down, loving the growl that reverberated in his chest.

"You're close, aren't you?" he asked, working his fingers faster, pushing me closer towards the edge.

"Yes," I moaned. "God, Yes."

"You want me to make you come, don't you?" His words egged me on and I pumped his dick faster.

"Fuck. Please. Edward," I begged for release, not able to focus on anything other than what he was doing to me.

A slow, intense burn began to creep into the pit of my stomach and I couldn't help but gasp, knowing I was so, so close. Knowing I wanted no one other than Edward to make me feel this way. Knowing I wanted no one other than Edward, period. I panted against his lips before letting my head fall against his shoulder.

Using his free hand, he lifted my head and pushed the hair out of my face. "I want to watch you come, Bella," he whispered in a hoarse voice.

I closed my eyes, gasping for breath and losing control, his last words pushing me over the edge as I bucked into his hand.

"Let go," he commanded as I moaned, panting his name, thinking of only him.

I slowly began to regain most of my senses and opened my eyes, grinning lazily at Edward.

"Oh my God," I breathed, my chest heaving rapidly.

He swallowed thickly, still staring at me with a haze of lust as he reached down and grabbed his dick.

"Fuck," he hissed, letting his head fall against the couch as he pumped his dick, thumb rubbing over his head. "That was so hot, Bella."

I stared, unable to look away as he closed his eyes, grabbing my breast with his free hand. Then his breath became ragged as he came, my name escaping from his lips, and I knew he was thinking of only me.

He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. "Holy shit," he finally said, lifting his head and looking at me with wide eyes.

"Yeah. I know," I agreed, trying not to look at the mess between us.

"You're not freaking out," he noted, grabbing the back of my neck, but waiting for me to lean in to kiss him. "Not yet, anyway."

"Well, I was able to hold back from offering you a footjob, so I'm pretty impressed with myself right now."

He smiled at me, a throaty laugh escaping from him, a small reassurance that this wouldn't be weird or awkward between us.

A/N: Holla back, y'all. Seriously, though, thanks for reading. Major thanks to Kim for helping out and making me write this, and to Julie for pre-reading at 1AM when she had a migraine.