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Word Prompt: Ruthless

Dialogue Flex: "Consider yourself warned."

"Marcus wants me to go to a special training next month. There are a couple of other guys they're looking at as well, and those of us who are chosen will be placed either locally or on the US team."

"A national team."

"Right."

"Okay. So...you said you knew Marcus from before - did you used to play for the US, then? Before you moved?" I ask, trying to follow.

"No, actually. I played midfielder in college, and then got picked up by the Seattle Sounders FC after graduation. After one season I was scouted by Tottenham, which was crazy and kind of random, but Marcus knew I'd been interested in the possibility of playing playing abroad. He's got all kinds of connection."

"So you went."

He nods.

"I get that," I say, stirring the soup. "If I had the chance to live abroad, I might."

"I'm so glad you just said that." He kisses my neck.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." I tease, giving him a meaningful glance. "Anyway, go on."

"Once there, I kept in touch with Marcus, but his focus has always been here in the States. He's always been there for me, even when I tore my ACL." Grimacing, he looks down, remembering. "He flew out, hung with my parents, accompanied us home. Even when he had no claim on me, no vested interest, he showed up."

"Sounds like a good man," I say.

"The best."

The timer goes off. Grabbing my oven mitts, I motion for Edward to stand aside so I can take the bread out. The fragrant, yeasty scent intensifies as I open the door, making my mouth water.

"There'll probably be a couple of local games...and then, depending on how things go, we'll travel nationally." He lifts the lid on the soup, peeking inside and inhaling. "But it wouldn't be for good."

"So how long, do you think?"

"How long what?

"From when you start playing again. How long do you think you'll be based here before the traveling starts?"

"I don't know Bella...six months? A season?"

I don't know much about seasons and such. Looks like I'll be hitting Google up again soon.

"There are a lot of 'ifs' at play here, okay?" he says with a sigh. "Can we just take it a day at a time?"

For the first time, Edward sounds the tiniest bit frustrated. This is a big deal for him, a chance to perhaps return to the game, and I'm being super clingy. And that's just not who I am. I've always been happy on my own, able and content and satisfied, if not a little lonely on occasion. I refuse to become the type of girl who lives and dies because of a guy.

I didn't do it for Tyler, or any guy since, and I won't do it now.

Only, Edward's not just any guy. And this relationship trumps all others. And he's not leaving me, he's running toward his dream. I can do this, because...we can do it. Whatever it turns out to be.

I look up at him. His eyes find mine right away, piercing me with how serious he is about this.

"You're totally right." I shake my head. "I just...I overthink things. You know that. But...we can absolutely do this a day at a time. I'll be your biggest supporter, I promise." And I mean it. I want to mean, it. I'll keep on saying this until it's real for me...fake it till I make it, right? Choose my thoughts and my emotions will follow. Maybe I should take Alice's offer up and borrow those Deepak Chopra audiobooks...

Edward cocks his head, gazing down at me. "You sure?"

"Yes. I want to be there for you," I say.

"Then be there." He kisses me, letting go of my hands so that he can hold my face. "And I'll be there for you. Even if I'm not with you physically, I'll be with you. You can count on it."

"I'll hold you to that," I murmur, wrapping my arms around him.

"You should."

We kiss until Charlie walks in, talking about Peppa and animal parades and how Edward looks just like a lion.

"Salted caramel cheesecake."

"You're going to make my body fat go up," Edward says, but he's practically drooling. "I'm supposed to be in shape for this training."

"As if," I say, in my best Clueless voice. "And, good. Then you can join the rest of us mere mortals."

He gives me a dirty look - the stink eye, not sexy-dirty.

"So anyway, this sounds good, right?" I ask breezily, jotting notes. Edward's birthday is in a few weeks and I want to make him a cake. Something different and special, like him.

Although, let's be real: salted caramel is about as trendy as it gets right now. Also like Edward. He's trendy.

"It sounds like heaven. Like everything else you make." He grabs my notebook and pen, tossing them aside. "We done, here?"

"Hey," I protest, grabbing at air. I've been thinking about this all day. We might even grill out back, at my place for once. "I'm in planning mode."

"I'm in sex mode," he says, getting out of bed. "Consider yourself warned."

"Oh. Well." I stretch out on the bed, pointing my toes. "Why didn't you say so before?"

Locking the door, he rips his shirt off and steps out of his jeans and underwear. I'm never going to get used to his body; he's a work of art - in more ways than one. And he's stepped up his game, too, working out and running every day. Sometimes I go with him, which means he sprints around while I alternate between jogging and walking.

Edward stalks toward me, crawling on to the bed and yanking my legs straight. He peels my panties down and then straddles my legs.

"You sure she'll stay asleep?"

"Positive. She didn't nap today. And...she was up late."

"No kidding. I thought she'd never fall asleep."

I laugh a bit at his frustration, because this has been my life for years. Kids have an uncanny ability to sniff out when you want time alone, or when you want them to go to sleep, or when you're having a private conversation.

"You mean you didn't want to watch Frozen twice?"

"Not really, no." He pulls me up that I'm sitting, then takes my tank top off. "But Chuck's ruthless when she wants something."

"Preaching to the choir, here." I fall back, bringing him with me, wrapping my legs around him. He rubs himself against me, breathing hard when he feels how wet I'm getting, swallowing my sounds with his kisses.

Right when I think he's going to slip inside, he turns me over.

"Wait," he whispers, brushing my hair to the side, kissing a line down my spine. I hear the now familiar sounds of a drawer opening and closing - we have the same 'hiding place' whether it's his house or mine - and a wrapper crinkling.

Then he's on top of me, covering me in his warmth, breath tickling my ears, stubble scratching my shoulder blades. He eases off, pulls me up so that I'm on my hands and knees, and presses into me.

I exhale roughly, arching my back, pushing back against him. He rocks against me, establishing a rough, rapid pace, something we both need because it's been a busy, busy week and time together has been scarce.

Sometimes I want it slow, but other times I want it hard. I want him to let go and let me let go, to think about nothing but right now, and what it means. Building, maybe, memories...emotional sustenance for the lonely times ahead when he'll be gone. I promise myself I won't dwell.

That I'll trust, instead.

xoxo

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