A/N: God I was high as a kite last week. That was embarrassing. Sorry for the lack of spoiler. In the space of a week, I had my birthday, my husband's (it's today) and my mother's. We're all crazy Virgos, but I've been crazy busy to boot. I hope 18 makes up for my suckage.
Anywho, thanks to Kim, Starry and Beibs, and God bless America on this horrible anniversary.

Sparky - electrician.
Woolies - Woolworth's supermarket.
If there's anything else send me a message and I'll straighten it out. I know us bogans from the great southern land have an odd way of speaking sometimes. Or all the time.

Hoodwinked

Chapter 18

"So," Edward says with a sigh, dropping down beside me on his bed and draping an arm around my shoulders, "there's a problem."

"What?" I ask, turning to face him. I'm still having trouble ridding the grin from my expression. He ambushed me the moment I walked through his front door and threw me over his shoulder. Just a week ago it would have pissed me off, but not anymore. It's amazing how much of a bitch denial can make you. I feel pretty ashamed of it now, and I suspect all my objections only made me more obvious.

"I don't have a lot of weed left," he confesses, bowing his head to push the heel of his palm against his brow.

"Oh... How much do you have?"

"Enough for one. And a half. Maybe..." He shrugs, his expression apologetic.

I take a breath and release it into a hum in contemplation. "Can't you get some more?"

"By tomorrow?" his eyebrows raise sceptically.

"I don't know..." I mumble.

"It's kinda hard to come by. I can't exactly just rock up to Woolies and get more."

"Where do you get it?" I ask, nudging him with my shoulder.

"A sparky I know."

"Hmm... It should be okay," I assure him; it's more of a speculation, though.

"Sure?" He doesn't sound very convinced.

I nod but half shrug in contradiction. I'm really not sure if I'm sure about anything right now. Except that I really want him to take my virginity from me.

"If tonight's a test run, I don't really want to waste it," he explains his hesitation, and I nod again. "We can try going straight?" He winks as I break into a reluctant grin.

"I probably won't need it," I surmise; something that makes Edward almost balk. "Shut up!"

"I'm kidding. Actually, I'm not. Jesus, Bella—are you shaking?"

"I'm fine!" I outright lie, tensing my shoulders in an effort to conceal it.

"I've still got some tequila," he suggests.

"No! That stuff made me sick!"

"You'll only need one shot to loosen up, and we just ate. It won't affect you like last time."

I pause, eyeing him suspiciously. "You sure? It made me feel...gross." I can still recall it, and I'm amazed I didn't spend the day throwing up.

"I promise." He over emphasizes it, sounding a tad too patronizing.

I elbow him. "Fine, but just one."

Expelling an over-exaggerated breath, he pulls himself up from beside me; returning a minute later with the bottle in hand, a quarter full.

"Here you go, your highness," he teases me after pouring a shot glass and holding it out for me.

I take it from him, but pause. Just the smell of it is churning my stomach

"You gonna drink it?" he asks, swallowing a mouthful straight from the bottle.

Sighing only half beneath my breath, I pour it into my mouth and end up choking for a good minute and a half; enough for the initial amusement on Edward's face to turn to alarm.

"You're not even close to being ready," he mutters, rubbing my back as I continue to struggle for air.

"I'm fine," I squeak, attempting to clear the burning from my throat.

"We can just mess around, you know," he says with a sigh. "You're making me feel like an asshole."

"Why?" I ask, my voice still restricted.

"I feel like I'm...fucking taking advantage of you." He huffs, and turning away from me he takes another swig from the bottle.

"It was my idea," I remind him.

"You're already stiffer than a corpse." It sounds like an accusation.

"I'm fine," I repeat with more conviction this time. "It's just...kinda scary."

"It's not that scary..."

"Easy for you to say."

He sighs again. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He's beginning to sound reluctant.

"Of course, I'm sure." I am, I realise.

"Well, stop over thinking it." He flicks me in the forehead as a smile twitches on his lips.

I nudge him again, breaking into a grin along with him. "Just...get me over the initial fear of it and I'll be okay."

"And you want me to test you?" He's continuing to sound sceptical; enough that it's beginning to throw me.

"Christ, Edward, for someone who constantly bugged me about taking care of it..."

"I told you I wouldn't hold you to it, and right now..." he doesn't elaborate; instead, he takes another mouthful of tequila and refills the shot glass. "One more."

"Sure?"

"Not really."

I shove him because I know he's not serious, but at the same time, he's too uncertain for my liking. I prefer him oozing with self-confidence; even in full-swing shithead mode.

I take the glass from him and down it before I can talk myself out of it. I almost gag, but the warmth circulating in my belly is already beginning to expand.

"Better?"

I nod once. "Better."

"Hmm..." he murmurs, gazing at me, his brow knotting.

"What?"

"You're kinda cute."

"Kinda? You said I was beautiful."

"I say a lot of things."

I elbow him again, but I'm not angry. "You're such an asshole."

He breaks into a full grin and pulls me back. We fall against his bed, and I find myself staring up at his ceiling fan, my equilibrium suddenly compromised. "I'm glad we're doing this, booger."

I turn to gaze at him. "Doing what? Having sex?"

He almost laughs, needing to muffle it through his nose. "Going real, you dork."

"No synonyms, either, shithead."

"I can't help it." He turns and rests his nose and lips to the side of my head and hums.

"Help what?"

"You. I still see you as that weird little kid from next door."

The smile is broad across my face before I'm aware of it; proof the alcohol is already circulating through my veins, relaxing and loosening me as it does. "The weird little kid you married how many times?"

"Four. Or was it five?"

"Five." I'm surprised he remembers.

"You were always chasing me around trying to kiss me, remember?" He chuckles; it's easy and smooth and suddenly doing ungodly things to my tequila fuelled mind.

I nudge him again. "You liked it."

"Hmm." He grin's lazily to himself.

"Edward?" I speak up, almost apprehensively, a moment later.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something without you twisting it around and going in circles?" I'm serious; enough that a groan immediately begins to amass in his chest.

"What...?" he humours me regardless.

"Remember last week...when you asked me not to get attached to you?"

"Yeah," he sighs, and by the sound of it he understands my meaning.

"Well, why...?"

"I couldn't make it too obvious, could I?"

"So, it was reverse psychology?"

"Pretty much."

"Why couldn't you just tell me?"

"Broken record, booger."

"Booger's a synonym." I huff. I'm frustrated but not over booger, or even at him in general. I'm frustrated at myself and how badly I hid my feelings in comparison to him. The only one I obviously convinced was myself. "I was too obvious."

"Yeah, you were, but I already knew."

"How?"

"I told you, you confessed your love to me in a ten-page letter."

"Oh god, stop it. I barely remember what I wrote," I mutter, mortified by the memory of it; though, I was obviously more honest with myself at twelve than I was a week ago.

"I remember," he says simply, flashing me a quick grin when my eyes meet his dubiously.

"You do?"

"Yep. You said I was really cute and funny and I was the only boy you'd ever love."

I groan loudly and bury my rapidly burning face behind my splayed fingers. "Oh my god—shut up!"

He laughs. "I still have it. Wanna see?"

"Please tell me you're joking?" I'm shaking again, but this time it's stemmed entirely from humiliation.

"Nope."

"I was twelve, I was just starting to become aware of boys, and you were always...there." Is my attempt to explain my prepubescent attachment to him.

"And because I'm the best-looking guy on the planet?"

"What?"

"Your words, not mine."

"I never said that."

That brow again, cocked high with doubt.

"I said you were better looking than Jas," I clarify.

He snorts. "Well, that's a given."

"Do you have a modest bone in your body?"

"Hey, I'm a realist." He winks and reaches over to clamp my nose between his fingers.

Brushing his hand away, I break into an inevitable smile; as exhausting as he is, he's just as bloody loveable.

"You know Lauren found it?"

"What?"

"Yeah, she chucked a huge mental and told me if she ever saw me with you, she'd skin you alive, or some shit like that."

"What? —did you defend me?"

"Of course I did. I told her if she laid a finger on you, I'd rip her tits off."

"And they say chivalry is dead," I say dryly, prodding him gently with my elbow suddenly overrunning with affection for him.

"Yeah, I think she started to figure it out."

"Figure what out?"

"That I had a pretty sizable hard on for you."

"Christ, you're romantic," I tease him.

"Hmm. I suspect she also used it as an excuse to fuck around. We weren't going to last much longer and she wanted to knife me in the back first." He takes another mouthful from the bottle before I reach over and take it from him. "What?"

"You get all mooshy when you're drunk." Sitting up, I place it on his bedside table.

"Mooshy?" He scoffs, grabbing my hand and tugging me back to him.

"Mooshy. Really mooshy. Bella-you-re-so-beautiful mooshy."

"You are beautiful." He wraps his arm around me and I turn to him and drape mine over his chest.

"I'd rather you say it when you're sober."

He groans, his smile twitching broader. "I do, and I am sober, you pain in the neck."

"Hmm..." I say lazily in reply, resting my cheek against him and listening to the rhythmic whoosh of his lungs.

"Wanna get naked?" he asks; he's teasing me but not wholly.

"No," I murmur.

"So, we going to have sex with our clothes on?"

"No. Just...not yet."

"Not yet," he echoes, sighing deliberately.

"You're skipping over like ten steps."

"What steps would they be?" he teases me again.

"Stop it." I close my eyes.

"Oi." He prods me.

"What?"

"You wanna sleep?"

"No." I half shake my head, but I sort of do.

"You can if you want. I'll wake you up later."

"I don't." I yawn regardless and close my eyes again.

"So..." he begins after we lapse into silence where the steady beat of his heart almost lulls me off to sleep.

"What?" I mumble drowsily.

"What's step one?" he asks, his tone light, and I realise he's messing with me again.

"Shut up."

"Show me."

"Stop it."

He laughs and there's a definite huskiness to it. "We gonna mess around?"

"...Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"You have to wake up first."

"I'm awake." I open my eyes and stretch, attempting to rid myself of the steadily encroaching sleepiness.

"Tell me what I'm allowed to do?" he asks, running his fingers over my forehead as he tucks my hair behind my ear.

"Whatever you want to do."

Turning, he pulls himself over me on his hands, arching that cynical brow. "Are you drunk or just half asleep?"

"Neither," I insist, but I could be both. Two shots and I'm already floating, but the objective has definitely been reached. I'm more relaxed than I've been all week.

"You want me to push you?" He still sounds dubious.

"Test me," I correct him.

"It's the same thing."

"No...okay, it is a little bit."

"A few days ago, you told me I wasn't allowed to push you."

"I say a lot of things," I tease him, using his own words against him.

"Stop that," he says wryly.

"You really are a handsome shithead, you know that?" I mumble, flicking his chin. He is, despite the still healing cut above his eye and the slight bruise covering his cheekbone. I raise my palm and place it over his injured face, and in return he smiles, and there's something vulnerable about it this time.

"Yeah, I know," he says lightly, his voice soft as he removes my hand.

"So humble," I tease him gently.

His smile broadens. "Shirtless?"

"...What?"

"You heard me."

"I... not..."

"You want me to test you, right?"

"I... didn't shave my legs," I say stupidly, and maybe I am drunk.

He quirks a puzzled brow. "Huh?"

"I mean... Okay..." I relent because it's ridiculous fighting him on it considering I let him completely grope me the day before with nothing but a bikini on.

Pulling myself upright, I raise my arms, allowing him to peel my t-shirt off me. His fingers slip over my flesh causing an icy shudder to ripple through me. "Cold..." I say by way of explanation.

"Okay," he replies, completely humouring me. "What about this." He slips his index finger beneath my bra strap and snaps it against my shoulder.

"...Not yet."

"Not yet...now...?"

"Edward...just... I don't want to plan every detail. Spring it on me."

"You might knee me in the nuts." That eyebrow again, sceptical this time, as again I break into a conceding smile.

"I won't. I promise."

"Promise?" he teases me, reaching behind him to pull his shirt forward and over his head.

"Promise," I reiterate as he leans toward me, and presses his lips tenderly to the curve of my neck. I almost moan, and I'm not sure if it's from the tequila now running free through my veins, or the softness of his lips and the scent of his shampoo flooding my nostrils.

"Can I touch you again?" he asks, his lips grazing against my skin as he moves them upward to my jaw.

"Y-yeah..." I stammer.

"You're shaking..." He kisses the sensitive spot below my ear and then again before moving to my mouth.

"I'm...fine..." I mumble as my words get lost against him. He tastes like fried rice, coke and tequila, and before I'm aware of it, I'm leaning into him, attempting to grab hold of...something. What my fingers connect with is warm, bare skin and then the waist band of his jeans.

He jolts slightly, but continues without a pause. He kisses me, briefly, softly, and each time he does he deepens it until I feel like my thoughts are beginning to scramble. At the same time there's no tongue, so I know he's being careful with me. It's just the sensation of his semi-parted lips repeatedly merging and breaking with mine while increasing in length and intent. I'm beginning to lose my head, and every single one of my inhibitions.

"Edward...you...you..." I murmur incoherently when he briefly releases me. To say what, I'm not sure, but before I can find out, his lips converge with mine again, opening and releasing his breath into me. The only thing I know for an absolute certainty is I'm coming undone, and all from just kissing him. I have no idea how or why he has so much power over me, and right now I'm not about to question it.

"Jesus, your mouth..." He all but moans into it as his hands run up my neck to cup to the sides of my face.

I grab his arms, and again I'm not sure why; to anchor myself maybe. I assume he takes it as a sign to move them because he slides them back to my shoulders. He leaves them resting there, and while immersing myself further in his kiss, I vaguely recall the feel of his thumbs running back and forth against the base of my neck.

There might be no tongue, and so far, no groping, but I instinctively know what we're doing and we're it's leading. I'm passing a lot of boundaries I had formerly set in place with Mike as if they were inconsequential, because with Edward they are. I trust him—more than anyone I know in this world. There's always been so much more to him than just the boy next door.

How the hell could I have forgotten?

Then slowly, so slowly I almost miss it, the mechanics within him begin to shift. A hand comes to cup one of my breasts, and just as I'd encouraged him to do the day before, he slips it beneath my bra. Water cushions the pressure of connecting skin, but out of it, there's no comparison. He has large hands, long fingers, and they cover me wholly, making my skin immediately prickle.

I don't react to it as I imagined I would. No matter how new and completely out of my comfort zone it is, I still like the sensation of it, and unlike with Mike, Edward's not being invasive. He's being gentle, cautious almost, as if he's testing my boundaries; exactly how I asked him to do.

With my emotions set to overload, and completely frayed across the board, I almost succumb to tears. Like most things right now, I have zero idea why; just that I'm flooding with affection for him and something else my dormant libido has only alluded to before now. It's a burning, a longing, and an awakening restlessness deep within me.

I'm beginning to squirm; so much he breaks off. His forehead slides against mine as he fights to catch his breath. "What's wrong? —you okay?" he asks sounding as drunk as I feel.

"I'm okay," I assure him, but am I? My head's spinning and my heart's beating so loud and fast my lungs are struggling to keep up.

"You sure?"

I only nod, biting down on my lower lip. I'm tensing; instinctively fighting to hold it all back. All of it—my heart, my lungs, the sexual desire—as if once released it'll completely conquer me. Right now, I honestly believe it will.

Pulling slightly back, his eyes lower to my chest, following his hands; one that's still partially cupped to my boob. "Am I allowed to take this off?" he ventures as his fingers graze over the material of my bra.

I'm fairly certain my heart stalls and my newly discovered erogenous zones kick up a notch. I hastily glance down when Edward slips a palm to my cheek and draws my gaze back to his.

"I...I okay..." I really can't control how jittery I feel in my own skin. I don't want him to stop, though, and I do want him to take it off; that much I know for certain.

"Yeah?" He doesn't believe me, but it's not that I can blame him. A week ago, I kneed him for getting half this close to me.

I'm nodding before I'm fully aware of it, despite the fact I'm succumbing to full blown trembling. "I-I think your air conditioning's up too high."

"Bella..." He breaks into a small smile as air shoots through his nose.

"...What?"

"It's not on."

"Oh..." Ducking my head, I rest my brow against his naked shoulder, but he's as equally heated as I can feel my face becoming. My body is warm, and yet the surface of my skin is cool while I'm all but losing my senses.

It feels like a cliché; one I would have laughed at if Alice had described it to me.

"You gonna look at me?" he teases me after a moment.

"Yeah..." I mumble, but that's when I notice it; what's going on behind Edward's jeans.

I kind of want to see what I'm dealing with, but at the same time, I'm afraid to confront the reality of it. It causes me to pause, and it's the first time doubt enters my consciousness. Am I'm really ready? Am I acting too hastily? Will I regret it?

Not exactly the kinds of thoughts you want racing through your mind when your body's reminding you that you do in fact have a clitoris.

"I like that you're shy around me," he bends his head and murmurs against my ear. "Actually, I more than like it."

I raise my head, and before I can utter a syllable, he cups his palm to the side of my face again and kisses me again.

Oh, god... No one ever told me that several hours of stubble growth dragging across my flesh could feel so amazing.

"You...like...me fighting with you," I somehow manage to get out in between his lips connecting and reconnecting with mine. It's evidence that my mind really is scrambled because what's running through my thoughts and what's passing through my lips is completely incongruent. What I really wonder is how big he is with a full erection, whether my hand will fit around it, and what it will feel like. Will it match Alice's many colourful descriptions? But most of all I wonder whether it will bring me as much pleasure as I'm almost certain it will cause me pain.

He muffles his laughter beneath his breath, before severing to kiss my shoulder. This is when his fingers slip beneath the straps of my bra as he slides them free. It reminds me that I'm still wearing it; with his hands against my naked skin, I almost forgot.

"I was...the only one...you weren't shy around." His mouth travels back up the side of my neck. "I didn't...like...it."

"I forgot," I whisper, closing my eyes. "I forgot how I felt." I've all but given up on stopping myself from shivering, but we both know I'm not cold. This magnetism that has taken hold of my flesh and blood is on a whole new scale. It's the firm softness of his lips in conjunction with that coarseness of his chin and the heat of his body. It's my mind completely exploding, and it's the fact that it's him. Edward; the shithead I completely forgot I loved.

"I know..."

Maybe a part of it was guilt that made me inevitably surrender; something I want to do right now. I'm not sure whether it's my heart and soul on overload, or the continued effects of alcohol in my system, but I'm suddenly recalling the memory of him sitting in the tree house completely succumbing to tears. It was a few months after his mother's death, and while the sound of his pain tore almost physically at my chest, I was too afraid to comfort him. He had isolated himself from me and Alice and I was worried I'd only increase that divide between us.

"Just take it off," I say as my breath gushes from me, "but you have to show me yours."

A/N: I hope you enjoyed :o)