A/N:

OMG I finally finished the goddamn chapter!

I know I say these chapters are hard to write but I've never had quite a challenge as this particular one...

I had so many problems trying to get the scene I imagined in my head onto paper... the first draft just didn't meet those expectations and I felt as if it was disjointed from the previous one - it was essential that there be a flow from chapter 20 to chapter 21 because these 'fillers' were meant to be hand in hand and without that, it just wouldn't make any sense.

It's been FOREVER since Down The Rabbit Hole was last updated and I wanted to reward your patience - thank you for that, BTW - with a chapter that was engaging, lengthy and a little bit... well... intense (sexually) that continued where the last chapter left off seemingly perfectly. Anything less than that wouldn't be fair to all of you...

Then there was the issues I had with my internet. I attempted to save the document on doc manager and well… let's just say my computer didn't like it. The internet was so slow that by the time it had processed what I was asking it to do, the save had been unsuccessful and most of the chapter had been lost. *insert screams of agony and frustration here*

Oh well… the chapter is here now and honestly, it's probably better than the original…

There is 'mature' content in this chapter…. so please take note of that if you are uncomfortable reading smut (please be aware that I am still quite new at writing these scenes… so please forgive me for any mistakes or unintentional awkwardness.)

ENJOY!

AshTree13 xoxo

P.S starting from now, sometimes at the beginning of a new chapter I will add song lyrics or poems or lines from novels that have inspired me as well as inserts from the previous chapters (this will usually happen when the chapter must flow directly from one to another in the same scene.) For this chapter, I have done both and if you haven't heard the song "Storm" (seen below) I highly recommend you do so... maybe you'll be able to understand where some of my inspiration came from.

I'm caught off-guard by you

Like a wave I pulled into

It's a feeling I can't fight

Like a wildfire, deep inside...

I am torn apart by you

It's a spell I can't undo

Oh, I can't escape it now

I'm in too deep to get out...

You're taking my heart, by storm

I'm lost in your love, lost in your love

I can't hold back anymore

I'm lost in your love, lost in your love

You're taking my heart, by storm

You're taking my heart...

- Ruelle: "Storm" -

"What do you want… now?" he whispers… his lips… press[ing] gently against my own...

Summoning what little courage I had left, I force the words out of my mouth...

"… I want… you."

Chapter 21:

The usual intensity of the Kingston seafront had somewhat calmed in comparison to earlier that day, and yet, there was still barely enough room on the crowded street to proceed forwards without at least knocking elbows with one or two strangers. For the townsfolk this was of little consequence: in comparison to the early hours of the morning when everyone gathered at the markets to get first pick of the day, the crowd was hardly a bother and was consequently small. For Edward, it simply meant that it would be difficult to locate the one person with whom he had to speak with urgently.

No doubt his particular skill set would be extremely handy however, as he was trying to as discreet as possible, the large concentration of people lingering about the bay and carrying on with their lives was the perfect cover. Guards stood aside from the flow, observant eyes carefully studying each person that passed by or lingered to long and Edward couldn't be sure if they were looking for him - the man who murdered one of the most prodiment people in Kingston - or if they were just carrying on with their jobs.

Probably the latter but it didn't hurt to be cautious.

It was why he had left Tess behind... well, one of the reasons.

I want you.

The words continually circulated throughout Edward's subconscious; he could picture her clearly - vibrant eyes usually sparkling with concealed mirth, dark with desire and an edge of seriousness that was almost foreign to his sight, portraying her sincerity. Her cheeks had been flushed a deep, rosy pink that made his heart pound uncontrollably and he could easily recall the way she pursed her glossy, red lips as she chewed the inside of her cheek; the way her mouth looked irresistibly kissable, spreading heat - not warmth - throughout his body to the point where he wanted to throw her lithe body over his shoulder and have his way with her out of the prying and no doubt judgemental gazes of the public.

instead, he had put his hand on her shoulders and suppressed the overwhelming urge to attack her mouth with a ferocity only she could illicit, offering to find her a room in which she could bathe and relax until departing from Kingston later that night, desperately trying to ignore the hurt that flashed in those doe-like eyes and the way her rosebud mouth dropped at the corners. Overlooking, with enormous effort, the heartbroken sigh and utterance of 'okay' as she took his hand and allowed him to return her to their claustrophobic and dark boarding room.

Edward's heart twisted painfully at the memory.

What the Hell is wrong with me? he thought, flustered by the irrational thoughts flooding into his brain - most of which concerned running back to Tess, apologising for his rejection and then proceeding to do... well... do everything Tess had insinuated earlier; a ridiculous fantasy, considering he had already put the breathtaking woman in danger simply by choosing to linger in the city for the day but he knew she was desperate to explore the sprawling city (although he couldn't possibly understand why) and Edward was finding it increasingly difficult to deny such innocent requests from his the girl he loved. Edward was aware of his feelings; he loved her, he could no longer deny that mind-altering fact... what he couldn't process was why falling in love with Tessa had him turning on his head and bending over backwards to please and protect her. He had been in love before - was still in love with his gorgeous wife residing in Wales - and yet, he had never felt so... so... how could even describe it?

He couldn't: that was the fucking problem.

Withholding the defeated sigh lodged in his throat, Edward returned to the task at hand, taking a sharp left down to the docks - he'd almost walked right past the destination at hand, lost in thoughts about Theresa fucking North. Pulling back his hood, he ran a hand through the tousled dirty blond locks, a relieved smile gracing his exhausted expression as he came across exactly what he had been looking for, the knowledge that he could prepare for immediate departure putting a spring into his step. Finally, Tessa and himself could put the failures of Kingston behind them and head home... maybe they could about that incident... maybe it would lead to something that didn't involve talking...

And once again, his mind had returned to the damningly tempting woman he was trying so hard to forget.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

With a chuckle, Edward turns on his heel and accepts the one-armed embrace thrust upon him by his charming quartermaster, withdrawing a few seconds after to shake the hand of the dark-skinned man before in a hearty greeting. "Good to see you too, Adé," Edward says with a sarcastic roll of his eyes but in all honesty, he was incredibly pleased to find his quartermaster so easily, the threat of their dalliance weighing heavily upon his mind.

"And here I thought that the doctor had enforced bedrest as part of your treatment," the burly man chuckles, chocolate eyes wandering over his captain's form, noting his dishevelled appearance and way the he pressed most of his weight to the side that did not have a still-healing bullet wound marring his already scarred skin.

"Already healed," the captain protests, rolling his eyes - in truth, it still burned with every deliberating movement as if someone was pressing a branding iron to his side but he had barely thought about it when wandering about the city with Tess at his side; she had been a welcome distraction from the pain and now that she was no longer in his presence and now that Adé had brought the wound up in conversation, his side ached painfully as if taunting him for his foolish decisions.

He did no regret the decision to take the bullet for Tessa... it was the choice to leave her behind and alone that haunted him the most at this moment.

Stop thinking about her, his conscious nagged him.

He had to bite his tongue in order to not reply.

"Where's Tessa?"

"At a lodge," Edwards informs his crew-mate, casting his gaze towards the Jackdaw, watching carefully as the majestic ship swayed against the light current and the gentle breeze, offering greetings to the crew who noticed his presence and welcomed him cheerfully blissfully unaware of his exploits in the Caribbean port. "She's waiting for me to return," he continues after a moment of silence, "which I should do so shortly."

"Why not just bring her?"

He didn't know how to answer; of course, part of the reason was to keep her out of harms way but...

"She needed to rest," Edward says in reply. Pausing, he glared at his quartermaster, "why do want to know?"

Holding up his hands in surrender, Adéwalé chuckles, "because it is rare to not find that exotic woman by your side. I was curious, Captain, as to whether you had had a disagreement... or if the girl had run off and you were trying to find me in order to locate her whereabouts."

"I am... I am not always with her."

"You don't even realise just how uncommon a sight this is," Adé teases with an impish grin, basking in the personal enjoyment he felt upon watching his captain, who was usually quick to present an argument that was infallible, struggle to formulate an retort to this observation.

After a painfully drawn out five minutes, Edward gave up attempting to dignify himself with a response, instead choosing to fold his arms over his chest and glare reproachfully at his friend in an attempt to cover his frustration and embarrassment. When Adéwalé's grin only widens, he allows the sigh that had been building to come forth, running a hand through his hair once more, gaze turned to the steadily darkening sky, dread squeezing his heart at the reminder that their time was running out.

"How quickly can you get the ship ready?"

"An hour at most," the dark man replies stoically, all traces of humour gone from his tone and expression the moment he detects the underlying urgency in his captains enquiry, "half hour at the least but not a moment earlier."

"It's time we return to Nassau, Adé," Edward admits with a sigh, reaching out to tenderly stroke the scarred hull of his ship, a faraway look in his eyes as he recalls the shores of Nassau, the one place he felt he truly belonged... the one place they'd be safe until further plans were made, "we've been away from the colony too long…"

"Is that the only reason?"

"It's the only reason you need," Edward retorts and his quartermaster falls silent, his own gaze following his captains', picking out the stars daring to shine despite the suns lingering presence.

"What shall you do Captain, with your remaining time?" he eventually asks.

"I shall fetch Tess," Edward replies with a notably soft smile, "I'm sure she'd be quite disappointed if we left without her, even if she does love the city."

I wonder if he even notices, Adéwalé thought to himself - observing the way his friend spoke about the bright, fair-skinned girl he too found quite charming - just how much he cares about her.

"Can I trust you to have the Jackdaw ready to depart the moment I return?"

"Of course," Adéwalé declares proudly, slapping the hull of the ship for emphasise, "she'll be ready and waiting… as will the crew. I think they'd like to put Kingston behind them, perhaps catch a few prizes on the way?"

"Whatever makes them happy," Edward concedes, very much aware that the crew needed to be indulged occasionally or else there would be a mutiny on his hands and at this present time, he desperately wanted to avoid such an occurrence; at least, until he sorted out their priorities. "Well," turning on his heel, he raised a hand in farewell and slowly began the trek back to the hotel in which Tessa would be patiently waiting, "I'll be off then."

"Captain!"

Pausing midstep, Edward threw a glance over his shoulder, eyebrow raised in enquiry.

"Enjoy yourself," the quartermaster taunts, the impish grin returning to his strong features.

Ignoring the burn of his cheeks - no doubt it was particularly noticeable with the red glow of the sunset - Edward continues his lengthy stride down the docks, turning around only to give his friend the finger and a less than discrete 'fuck you.' However, though he would rather be shot again than admit it to himself, the weight that had sat upon his chest seemed to dissipate at the thought of returning to the doe-eyed, red-haired beauty.

Disappearing into the steadily thinning crowd, only one word crosses his mind: Tess.

0-0-0-0-0-0

What's taking Edward so long?

As I sink lower into the murky depths of my bath, fear grips my heart, the possibility that he may not return reverberating throughout my consciousness. Try as I might to remove myself from those poisonous thoughts, the prospect that he may not return - whether it be an attempt to once again place me out of harms way or because he was… no, I refuse to consider that option - weighed me down and preoccupied my train of thought. Paired with embarrassment for my earlier actions and the inner turmoil of my heart, the entire situation was giving me a headache.

I draw my knees to my naked chest, resting my flushed cheeks against the glistening skin and allowing a deep sigh to escape, a sigh which expressed my... my what?

Disappointment? Worry? Frustration? Fear? Anger?

Perhaps all of the above.

With a soft groan, I watch the water droplets carve a glistening path across my pale skin, until they once more find sanctuary in the cloudy water. What was I doing, really?

The truth was that I had no clue.

My heart was in complete turmoil.

When I closed my eyes, I could picture the events of the afternoon almost as if I were reliving them - I could feel every electrifying touch, inhale the familiar and foreign scents that hung in the breezeless air, see the dark flecks of azure in Edward's handsome grey-blue eyes, hear the sounds of our combined pleasure and the whispered words of promise that promptly set my cheeks ablaze. Covering my burning face, I take a deep breath and plunge myself beneath the cool water, hoping that the icy depths would force myself out of these memories. Removing my hands, I observe the water encasing my body in a cool embrace, watching the red strands of my hair float about my face in a kind of unearthly dance, the bubbles I blow immediately disappearing from sight; I wish those nagging ideas and fantasies would vanish as easily and quickly as those bubbles.

I doubt that would ever happen - as my brother used to point out, I had the tendency to always focus on the minor details, the details that often made little sense, that often sent us round in circles… the unnecessary details that were in no situation helpful.

I hated it when he proved to be right.

My heart aches at the thought of my stubborn, pig-headed sibling. As much as we frequently irritated one another, our lifestyle - particularly the dangers it posed - meant that we had grown to depend on the other and, despite our frequent arguments and continuous looks of utter contempt, it had brought us closer together. I knew that I could always depend on him and yet, when I needed his advice the most, when I needed his words of wisdom - although he lacked in that department quite severely - and comfort, he was centuries in the future.

Oh Shaun, I think to myself, brushing back strands of my sodden hair and inhaling the stale air, I miss you.

I wonder if they missed me - Rebecca and Shaun. I wonder if they were looking for me, trying to find a way to bring me home; that is, if they were aware that I had somehow been thrown back into the past. Maybe they had given up all hope of ever seeing me, after all it had been quite some time since I had even been thrown into the this era of historical significance, they probably believed me to be dead.

And, in all honesty, even if they did manage to find a way to bring me back into my appropriate time… would I want to go?

Like hell you would, a spiteful little voice whispered in my ear, because you're in love with Edward and you want to-"

"No!" I cry, banishing the thoughts from my mind but with little success.

You know you love him and you know if the choice was given to you, you would choose-

"I'd choose home," I inform the empty room, desperation evident in my reply.

Would you? The voice challenges.

Would I?

"Yes…?" I whisper, entirely unconvinced.

It was the very question Edward had posed earlier... and yet it was an entirely different answer; clearly, I was a fickle person, more so than I realised.

I wanted to stay... I want to stay so badly that it almost hurt but, at the darkest corner of my mind, I knew that I had to go back or at least continue trying until every option was exhausted. I didn't belong here, no matter how much I wish that I did... the feelings that I have for Edward, those feelings that left my heart racing and myself breathless, the feelings that had me feeling as if I could do anything... they weren't right and they were holding me back from making logical decisions that would have a massive impact if I chose incorrectly. The fact was, Edward had a predetermined path set out before him, a fate that I had already meddled with by dropping into his lap and I had no clue whether or not our time together had already messed with his precious timeline. If I was to take a guess, I was sure that by this point in time I had had some impact on the fragile continuum.

Aware of this, how could I not fight my way back to my older brother? To my best friend? To my home? If I wasn't going to return for their sake, the least I could do was return for Edwards' - I had no idea how I was to achieve, even after three years of half-hearted searching and minimalist attempts, the very feat that would see me escaping this rabbit hole.

But... but I still wanted to stay... didn't I?

With a soft sob, I bury my face in my hands.

Damn it! What's wrong with me?

This time, that deafening, irritating voice that perpetuated my mind, did not answer and I sat in that brown bathwater at a loss of what to do, tears staining my already damp cheeks.

When did I become such a cry baby? I thought, brushing away the bothersome tears, I don't think I've every cried as much as I have living in this era.

To cry was to be weak and when you lived the way I lived, weakness easily singled you out; you wouldn't survive long with that target painted on your back, let me tell you. Maybe it was all the pent up frustration and angst that I had been unable to shed as a child... more than likely, it was a direct result of all the pressure and fear and general confusion that came with my peculiar situation; I didn't usually consider myself a walking sob story but it was hard to keep everything bottled up inside. That being said, I was sick and tired of fighting against the feelings that raged inside of me, exhausted from battling against the tide, from trying to escape these thoughts and feelings that held me captive. I wanted to live...

It was easier said than done.

Truly, I didn't need to screw up my life more than I already had.

Honestly, I groan, resting the back of my skull against the cool rim of the tub, my eyes tracing the now familiar cracks of the ceiling, I'm a walking, talking, fucking disaster.

With that in mind that I grip the edge of metal tub, heaving my suddenly exhausted body out the grimy depths, shivering the moment I'm exposed to the cool interior of the darkened room. Gently, I brush off the remaining water that clings to my skin and wrap my arms around my torso in what appeared to be a half-hearted attempt to shield myself from the cold chill. After a second of hesitation - and I literally mean a second - I reach for the thin robe draped over the simplistic dressing screen, sighing when my fingers merely brush against the soft, thin fabric; clearly I was too short to reach the article of clothing when standing in the low-level bathtub. Tucking the wispy strands of my hair behind my ears, I steady myself and carefully lift a leg out of the tub - a difficult feat considering that my hims were well below the rim - and once more, attempt to reach for the robe.

Of course, it's moments like these - moments of the purest simplicity - when everything gets shot to Hell because, lets face it, nothing in my life can ever go to fucking plan.

Before I can register the fact that the majority of my body is floating in the air, I fall into the filthy bathwater with a resounding crash, the left side of my head colliding - quite spectacularly - against the sharp, metal edge of the bath. I feel my teeth sink into my tongue, filling my mouth with blood which is unceremoniously spat out the side of the tub the moment I can steady myself and sit upright. It's a struggle to to remain upright with the world as blurred and spinning as it was, a splitting headache pounding against my skull right behind my eyes. Upon touching the side of my head, I flinch when my fingers come away coated in a fine layer of blood, wincing when the shrill tone of my voice causes my head to throb in protest: "shit!"

A knock reverberates about the room, followed swiftly by a deep, familiar voice that chills my blood and squeezes my heart: "Tess?"

Why? I cry out silently, barely able to contain the soft moan of despair building at the back of my throat, Out of all the opportune moments, he had to reappear at this exact moment!

"Tess?" Edward calls out again, his knuckles rapping at the thin wood of the door, voice tinged with confusion and concern, "What's going on in there?"

"I-I'm fine," I call out, desperately attempting to remove myself from my watery confines, all the while battling against the resounding headache pulsating through my head.

"That doesn't answer my question... but good to know," however, judging from the disbelief in his tone, he didn't believe that I was 'fine' at all.

"Nothing happened," I answer quickly, wincing once more as my head twinges.

"I heard a crash..."

"It was nothing... I..." desperately, I try to think of a way to deter him, mortified at the possibility that he could see me both naked and bleeding profusely in the tub, "I'm in the bath!"

"Oh," an awkward mumble and then "... I'm coming in."

"WHAT! No, don't come i- ah..." with a soft whimper, I clutch my head and draw my knees to my chest. Resting my forehead on the cool skin of my thighs as the headache persists, my eyes burn and blood steadily drips from the gash on my head. It stains the already cloudy water a vibrant red that then clings to my ivory skin. Raising my head at the distinct click of the door opening, I turn away from the single entrance and press my shivering body closer to the side of the cool tub. Hiding my face from Edward's gaze, I press a hand to the cut and pray that he cannot see the steady stream of crimson leaking out between my fingers and trickling down my elbow, taunting me.

I know I hope in vain.

Edwards' eyes are as sharp as that of a hawks... it would be highly unlikely for him to miss such an obvious wound so of course, he manages to pick up on it the moment those handsome azure eyes settle upon my hunched figure.

"What happened?" I feel his hand touch the skin of my shoulder, urging me to face him head on. I shiver at his gentle touch, warmth spreading throughout my body and despite the awful pain that has me practically crippled, I still find myself fantasying about those clever fingers wondering lower and lower, exploring my skin, my body and memorising each and every curve, bump and imperfection.

"I... I slipped," I mumble, cursing myself for the way my cheeks burn.

"Let me see."

"No."

"Tess," his voice is stern but is also laced with concern and a kind of gentleness that is so very rare but so very dear to me... so much so that, with a resigned sigh, I carefully turn my face towards his, unable to stop myself from whimpering when his thumb glides across the laceration despite the tenderness beneath his touch.

"How bad is it?" I ask, although in truth I'd rather not hear.

"I don't think it needs stitches but... I should probably clean it to make sure."

"That bad huh?"

"Truthfully, head wounds always bleed more," his eyes flicker briefly from examining my wound to studying my face, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, "but how the Hell did you manage to do this?"

"I told you," I sigh with an impatient role of my eyes and a quick shake of my head, which I instantly regret: "oh... ow!"

"Idiot, stop moving your head," his fingers grab my chin and hold my face in place as he continues to study the gash, his free hand dipping into the freezing water and applying said liquid to side of my forehead, cleaning away the blood that obscures the severity of the wound. "You slipped... how'd you slip?"

"Ummmm," flushing in embarrassment, I hunch my body over to avoid exposing my chest and point to the discarded cotton robe, avoiding those amused, inquisitive eyes as I mumble my explanation: "trying to reach that..."

A short but noticeable laugh bursts forth from his enticing lips.

"It's not funny," I complain, but I can't hold back the smile turning up the corners of my lips as I slap at his chest playfully.

"You have to admit that it is pretty funny."

"Edward!"

"I mean," he continues, that smirk of his lighting up his handsome features, his skilful fingers working away at the cut with careful precision, "I knew you were clumsy but-"

"I am not clumsy," I retort with a huff, cringing at the sharp pain that erupts soon after - a painful reminder of my earlier blunder.

"Says the girl who slipped and hit her head on the side of the tub."

"You're an ass."

"And you're an idiot," he says but the affectionate chuckle that soon follows informs me that his intentions are... well not pure as per say but certainly innocent - oh, who was I kidding? 'Edward' and 'innocent' were two words that would never ever go together... it was simply unimaginable that the colossal prick was in any way virtuous.

It was then that I realised he was probably trying to diffuse the tension, make this situation bearable - and I don't think I had ever loved him more than I did in that very moment.

"You have to admit, it's pretty funny."

"You're an ass."

"And you're an idiot."

"And we're getting nowhere," I point out, slapping at his chest. I groan as the movement causes my head to tinge in pain and Edward reaches for me, pulling my head to his chest, one hand cupping the back of my head to hold it still whilst the other trails down the length of my spine.

"Just relax," he murmurs soothingly, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head.

And I do.

For a moment, we sit there, Edward's arms wrapped around my torso, mine now gripping the front of his slightly damp shirt, enjoying the quiet. We listen to the muffled voices floating around the crumbling inn, the muted voices drifting up through the window from the streets of Kingston, alive once again with a different kind of excitement than the one that perpetuated the atmosphere during the day. It was all rather peaceful and pleasant, almost as if Edward and I had hit pause on our busy, danger-filled life.

"I've asked Adé to get the Jackdaw ready for departure," Edward says after a while, pulling away from me ever-so-slightly, his fingers catching my chin and tilting it up so his cool gaze clearly meets mine, "I know you enjoy Kingston but we've overstayed our welcome."

"I understand," I tell him with a nod of my head.

He leans forward then and kisses me, whispering into my mouth, "we can come back again."

I know he's only saying that for my sake - there's very little chance of Edward and I returning to Kingston, especially together. It would be too dangerous and Edward, I knew, would take no chances with my safety even though I had proven myself time and time again that I could defend myself. Yet, despite knowing all this, I abandon my earlier reservations about showing my body to his keen eyes and put my arms around his neck, kissing him deeply.

Edward is the one to pull away, his eyes conflicted as he studies my flushed cheeks and the quick rise and fall of my chest. Reluctantly, he removes my arms from his neck and gets to his feet, brushing off the dust that has embedded itself into his clothes. He moves towards the white discarded negligee, picking it off the floor before approaching my shivering form in the tub. "Up," he tells me.

I grip the edge of the tub and pull myself upright, slowly, carefully. I try to ignore the frantic pounding of my heart as Edward watches the cloudy water trail across my dripping body, his eyes lingering on my breast which are hard and peaked from the cold and the space between my thighs - his eyes grower steadily darker the lower they roam and I consciously press my thighs together, bowing my head in embarrassment. I feel something soft and cool cover my skin and then I find myself being lifted into the air.

With a squeal, I wrap the robe tighter around my body and stare up at Edward, unable to disguise my blatant shock as he removes me from the tub and strides towards the door with a quick, light step that barely disrupts the creaky floorboards.

"Edward-" I begin, clutching at the thin fabric as I stare up at him wide-eyed.

Using his body, Edward pushes upon the door and ignores my protests as turns down the corridor, catching the eye of a lingering maid as he does to my absolute horror. "We're done with the bath," he informs her shortly, strolling past her with my wet and practically naked in his arms without so much of a blink or stumble in his step - the maid on the other hand is flushed red right to the tips of her dark hair as she notes the state of disarray I am in, unable to meet Edward's intense gaze.

"Of course sir."

"And we'll be leaving shortly, so the room we booked will be available in half an hour," he continues, not even bothering to look over his shoulder, finding his way quickly and surely to the small, decrypted room we had been using for the duration of our stay.

He doesn't bother to wait for the poor girls reply, kicking open the door to our tiny, tiny room that was barely illuminated by the small candle stand and minuscule window that adorned the room. There was a kind of shadowy atmosphere that clung to the small room and it was so cramped that it was nearly impossible to walk around the bed to the tiny armoire shoved against the back wall - the ceiling was slanted, sagging slightly in the centre, and was cracked so badly that I couldn't recall the number of times I had gone to sleep since arriving here, praying that it wouldn't rain.

But none of that mattered to Edward as he took the few short strides to the bed.

"What are you-?"

And then presses his lips against mine in a kiss that steals all of my rational thoughts along with my breath.

He drops me unceremoniously atop the bed and I have to lie there for a moment, blinking as if that will help settle my muddled thoughts.

"I can't- I mean I- why'd you- What the Hell?"

I can't get the words out of my mouth but I'm sure Edward understands what I am trying to say; the way his mouth pulls into a cocky smirk, the way his eyes sparkle with amusement, the husky laugh that rasps out of him all inform me that he is very much aware of my embarrassment. Looming over me, he captures both of my wrists and holds my arms above my head, settling his body at the side of the small, dust-covered bed. He reaches out and brushes the back of his hand against my flushed cheek, the smile on his lips widening as he takes in my rosy, partially concealed body. Edward then brushes his fingers down side; slowly, intoxicatingly - a shiver runs down my spine and I can't look away from his dark gaze, even as every fibre of my being urges me to run and hide. That hand with its masterful fingers trace a path from my temple - catching a loose strand of hair there, he brings the copper-red strands to his mouth and pecks the dark, damp bangs before tucking the curls behind my ear where he then continues to my neck, stroking the skin where my pulse flutters before he leans forward and presses a long, biting kiss to my throat.

Did he just give me a hickey? I think wildly, unable to make sense of my jumbled thoughts as heat flooded my trembling body.

And if he did, did I care?

It's almost as if Edward has me under some kind of spell... and I find myself, despite my initial hesitation and awkwardness, that I was more than willing to accept Edward's featherlight touch.

Releasing my wrists, Edward continues his exploration of my partially concealed body, one hand caressing my waist while his other trails his calloused fingertips across my shoulder and then my collarbones, pecking occasionally at my skin and leaving soft red marks in his wake. Finding that my breathing has become unsteady, Edward looks up at my from his perch by my left shoulder, eyes twinkling with mischief as his gaze roams over my flustered expression and then the slope of my breasts, his thumb brushing over my peaked nipples, a delighted grin illuminating his features as a low moan wrestles its way from my parted lips. But it's when those talented digits roam down the length of my stomach, my abdomen before lightly stroking the inside of my thigh that I feel my body tense, my breath hitching as warmth pools in my core.

Edward, I sigh to myself, resting the back of my skull against the cold lumpy mattress, my chin tilted towards the ruined ceiling, eyes closed as I feel myself begin to descend into a wave of pleasure.

It's not like the first time he touched me, I think, turning onto my side as I feel the bed dip as the weight upon it increased. The mattress groans as it sinks directly behind my body, Edwards solid warmth pouring over me as his broad hands slide over and under me: one traces my ribs before settling over my flat stomach, tugging my back - covered only by the flimsy cotton robe - against his strong chest, whilst the other slides underneath my ribcage and arm, passing over my chest where he resumes his tender caress of my breasts, deliberately avoiding the swollen peaks of my nipples.

When he last touched me like this... I didn't love him like I do now.

I still loved Desmond back then - I still do - but everything was different now... and that made it all the more confusing for me to find myself in this situation. I was drowning in his embrace and I wanted him to continue touching and stroking my flushed body and yet, some part of me wanted him to stop, some part of me wanted to turn tail and bolt.

I lift a hand and reach over my shoulder, my fingers brushing against his his cheeks, faintly tracing the contours of his face. I feel him shudder, his arms tightening around my body.

"Tess," he breathes, the words hot on the back of my neck, his hand splaying across my stomach and my chest, thumb pressing down on the hard surface of my bosom eliciting a soft, desirous whimper from my mouth.

"You wicked thing," he continues, nose grazing my exposed neck, his hot breath caressing my skin, "making noises like that... completely unfair if I do say so myself."

"You really want to argue who's being more cruel?" I tease, burying my face in the bedding as his fingers begin to make lazy stroke across my stomach, one finger in particular swirling around my navel. Something hard pushes against my backside then and I feel myself go taunt and loose all at once; inching as close as I can, I grind up against him and brush my fingers once again over his cheek, moving past his stubble-covered chin to his neck: he twitches against my backside, brushing his lips against my neck as he moans into my touch. I arch my back against him, urging his other hand to palm at my chest of which he immediately obliges, his fingers circling around one of my peaked nipples, occasionally squeezing the hard flesh to my conflicted delight.

"What are you thinking, Tessa?" Edward murmurs, teeth scraping against my neck before nipping at my earlobe.

More, more, more, more.

I can see myself begging him to touch me more, but by some willpower, I keep my lips sealed even as he fingers travel down the slope of my breasts and the other, equally proficient hand continues to idly stroke along the length of my stomach... my abdomen. Those crafty fingers go slowly - so painfully slow - down my skin, towards where the heat that continues to build and ache.

"What are you thinking?" He repeats, knuckles caressing my nipples. I bow into the touch, silently begging for more because no matter how many times he asks me, I don't have the willpower to explicitly ask for his touch. I can feel how hard he is and I take advantage of that, grounding hard against him to emphasise my desire, the movement against him causing Edward to hiss softly, wickedly, his body pressing harder against me so that there was no space between our bodies, effectively eliminating the possibility of me caressing him.

"Just let me touch you," he says in a guttural tone that was barely recognisable, palming my breast and trailing lazy lines on my stomach for extra emphasis. He slides his fingers once more towards my heated core, deliberately dancing around the heat and stroking the inside of my thighs, causing me to anxiously shift and arch against him as if i could get that tricky hand to slip exactly where I wanted it, subconsciously spreading my legs to allow him easier access.

"Please," I whisper, barely managing to get the word out.

I can feel him smile against my neck - the taunting bastard - however, all of my irritation vanishes when his hand at last brushes against me, dragging a groan from deep in my throat.

Edward himself groans in satisfaction at the wetness he finds waiting for him, his thumb circling that spot at the apex of my thighs, brushing up against it in a teasing manner but never quite touching it, to my increasing frustration. I turn my head imperceptibly over my shoulder, about to scold him for his unnecessarily and merciless teasing but I lose all train of thought as his hand - the one fondling my chest - gently squeezes my breast, his thumb pushing down in that same moment exactly where I wanted him to.

I buck my hips, my head resting full back against his shoulder as he thumb flicks over my centre. I am unable to hold back my soft cries as his fingers slide down, slow and brazen, straight though the core of me, his fingers poised their as if he had all the time in the world to tease but never truly-

"Bastard," I grit out, grinding my ass against him.

"Tessa," he slightly scolds, although he can't help the strangled hiss that works its way out of his throat from the contact.

For a moment, I'm stunned by my boldness and the power I evidently have over him in this situation - almost as much power as he has over me - but pleasure soon overtakes that thought as Edward slides a single finger inside of me.

I hear Edward swear as I start to gently rock my hips, moving on him. I groan at the pleasure he inflicts with that single digit, closing my eyes I begin to truly lose myself in his embrace, in his touch: Edward's answer to my satisfaction is a kiss pressed into my neck, which progresses into a series of soft, hot pecks that move up and up towards my ear. He bites the shell of my ear as he slides a second finger inside of me, and I feel myself tighten around his fingers in response to the bliss he bestows upon me, feeling as if I could barely breathe - I certainly can't think straight.

Twisting my body as much as I could, I find Edward staring at me with dark, hungry eyes: watching me, watching the way I moved on him. He was still watching me with those intelligent, sharp eyes when I captured his mouth with my own, biting down softly on his bottom lip, inhaling his low groan.

In response, those fingers plunge deeper inside of me and stroke me harder.

I open my mouth at his insistence, yielding to him fully as his tongue sweep in, moving in such a way that made it plaintively obvious that he would know exactly what to do if he was between my legs - hinting at the pleasure such a touch would bring me. His fingers plunged in and out, slow and hard and all I could think about was the way he felt, the way I tightened around him with each and every stroke, every echoing thrust of that tongue roaming in my mouth.

I was so close, teetering on the very edge. I knew that with just a couple more strokes, a few more featherlight brushes across my breasts that I'd find my release and come completely undone. I was so very close that I could taste the cry on my lips and I moved my hips harder against his fingers, moved faster on him -

Yet the cry that finds its way into the room is not one of pleasure but one of lose.

I try to move closer to Edward but he pulls away, seductively licking at his fingers, cleaning my very essence off his tanned digits as he admires my trembling, near limp body.

"Edward," I whisper, pleading with my eyes for him to return to my side, to continue where he left off.

But, beneath my desire I feel a sense of relief flood through my senses - clearly, some small part of me was glad that he had stopped yet I couldn't really begin to understand why because that was...

"When I fuck you," Edward says roughly, looming over me, gripping my hand as it slides over his chest in a half-assed attempt to pin him to the bed, "I want to be entirely alone - far away from anyone who may unintentionally or intentionally interrupt us. I want you splayed out on the bed - or even on a fucking table - like my own personal feast, one that I will take my time to enjoy..."

I whimpered, the very thought of it turning me to liquid.

"I've thought about this for a long time - since that night at Tulum and again this afternoon after those sinfully delicious words you whispered to me," Edward says, pressing his face into my neck, fingers trailing down my sides, touching the sodden fabric of the bathrobe before resting them against my hips, holding them down. "I have no intention of making love to you in such a short amount of time. Nor do I fancy fucking you in a room where I can't even fuck you against the wall... and I'm not going to touch you like that, make love to you like you want me to until you know for certain that it is exactly what you want."

"But-"

"I will not fuck you Tess unless you want to me as well... I will not have you hesitate the next time I have you on you back or on your stomach, when I'm fully prepared to fuck you into oblivion," he pauses, eyes searching me, "because I will fuck you even if you don't want me to... I'm at my limit."

"I would want you to... I want you to now," I whisper, turning my head to the side when my cheeks burn at my blunt answer.

"Do you really?"

That makes me hesitate and, seeing that, Edward climbs off the bed and runs a hand through his tousled hair, breathing deeply through his nose as if trying to calm himself. He looks over his shoulder at me, where I sit upright baring my practically naked body to him and sighs.

"Get dressed... we're leaving in ten."

"Edward," I begin to say but he's already crossed the room and out the door without a backward glance.

And so Edward leaves me there atop the bed, breathless and unsatisfied and unsure what to do.