A/N: I think my beta has abandoned me. *side-eyes Kim*. I can't update this weekend. Tomorrow I'm going into the city for some much needed girl time with my bestie, and Sunday is the last official day of the school hols. I have a ton of uniform ironing to do. Fuck this domestic shit. Kill joy.
Are you guys gonna get me to a 1000 this update? Okay, that might be pushing it, but a girl can dream. Almost 50 for the last chapter. Convenient, you hoors. Hey, if you like my lemons, power to ya. They're not really lemons, per se. Maybe reconstituted cordial with 5% imported lemons from Russia. I think that's still a stretch, though.

Hoodwinked

Chapter 22

It's becoming apparent to me that my mother can sniff out sex like a bloodhound. It almost makes me self-conscious, worried that it's reeking from me, because the moment I step through the front door she immediately makes a beeline for me.

"Sweetie..." she says, confusion and suspicion amalgamating across her expression. "Have you...?"

"Yes." I'm completely honest because it's the best way to diffuse her vicariousness. "Again," I pre-empt her, and this time we're both on the same page. Edward and I did have sex again.

It was around the early hours of the morning. Sometime during the night, it started to rain, and an almighty crack of thunder caused the both of us to bolt upright in bed in shock. I turned to him, he turned to me, and in the next instant we were kissing. It was one hundred percent physical with a lot less talking, and I enjoyed it a lot more than the first time.

God, I love the sound and sensation of Edward's lips on mine. They're as equally soft as they are firm, and so hot they began to charge me before I was even fully awake. But sex at four am is a dangerous thing, and Edward almost made a huge blunder. He forgot to put on a condom, and he was inside me before we both realized. It was only a matter of seconds before he rectified it, but my heart felt like it had literally stopped.

I have lived the last three years of my life with a baby in the house, and it's most definitely not something I want to repeat.

The panic didn't set in until an hour after when my early morning brain became lucid enough to start ticking over. Or overthink as Edward believes. I freaked out and started Googling, and then I freaked out more. Apparently, it is possible to get pregnant during those three seconds we were unprotected. Not likely, but possible, and that was enough for me. At eight am sharp, I made Edward drive me to the nearest chemist to get the morning after pill.

I still can't breathe evenly, and I'm almost tempted to swear off sex until I've taken the first month of birth control. Almost, because in reality I know I'll never stick to it. With my virginity finally out of the way, I want Edward to get me up to par to where I'm supposed to be. I want an orgasm from sex – I want several – and I'm impatient for it.

"What's the matter? —you're all weepy?" My mother observes, ambushing me before I could make it to the safety of my bedroom.

"Nothing...just..." Shit, should I tell her? She'd be the best person to discuss it with right now; if I could survive the cringing.

"Just...?" she urges, her face becoming animated at the possibility of details, and completely incongruent with my overrun emotions.

"For a few seconds we were unprotected..." I admit to my carpet.

"What do you mean, sweetie?"

I shake my head, deciding after all that this conversation is not a good idea. "Never mind."

"Do you mean you started without protection?" She's latched on now, and they'll be no dislodging her any time soon. I can only attribute this moment of weakness to my frayed emotions. They are frayed, but then that's not quite the right word. I feel like I'm literally erupting with them. I want to laugh and cry simultaneously, and I'm still so ignited by the memory of his warm pliable skin against mine. My emotions aren't the only thing that's heightened. I honestly feel like my heart might burst from my chest at a moment's notice and my entire body of skin feels as if it's an active current.

"Yes," I mumble, my face flaming. It will never be a comfortable thing to talk sex with your mother, no matter how much of an expert she is on it.

"But you got the morning after pill, right?"

"Yes," I continue to tell my bare feet.

"That's my girl." She wraps an arm around my shoulders and squeezes me with open affection. "You'll be fine."

I nod once and release my breath. The pharmacist put my fears to rest this morning, but it's still reassuring to hear it from someone closer.

"You excited about tonight?"

I look up, meet her over-animated gaze, and smile for the first time. "Yeah." I nod again. I am, but when I think over the last two weeks, I want to laugh at the irony of it. Edward and I came together for this one night, and along the way we somehow found each other again. What's even more ironic is at the start of it all I cringed when he touched me, and now I want nothing but to feel his hands all over me. "I'm an idiot," I mumble unintentionally aloud, and my mother naturally misconstrues it.

"We all make mistakes, sweetie, but you did the right thing."

"I know..." I say, smiling discreetly to myself. Oh boy, did I do the right thing.

"Would you like me to run you another bath?" she offers.

"Yeah." I really do need one because while I'm a livewire of activity, my delicate flesh is as tender as I was warned it would be.

I soak for two hours, laughing and sobbing to myself as my mind replays the events of the night repeatedly. While my emotions are all over the place, and I'm finding it increasing hard to comprehend the bulk of them, the only thing I'm sure of is that shithead owns my heart and I'm not letting him go anytime soon.

Or ever.

He makes his way over to me just before midday. My mother let him in and when I'm returning to my room after my bath ran cold, I open the door to find him sitting on my bed.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, the smile already broad across my face.

He returns it and gets to his feet. "Just making sure you're okay—Jesus, what is that smell?"

"Me. My mother ran me a bath."

"Do, I want to know?" he asks, his grin askew in semi-concealed amusement.

"No." I take the hand he holds out to me and allow him to pull me against him.

"But you're okay, right?" he murmurs, resting his chin to the top of my head.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I put to him, inhaling that musky scent of him deep into my lungs.

"You got pretty screechy this morning." The laughter rocks him gently even as he attempts to suppress it.

"I know—shut up. Better to be safe, right?"

"Hmm," he hums before releasing me to meet my gaze. "So, six o'clock, yeah?" he asks referring to the time he has to pick me up.

"Yep."

"Okay." He clamps my nose between his fingers; I shove him back playfully.

"Will you stop that?"

He laughs lightly. "You hanging with Alice today?"

"Later. Why?"

He shrugs casually. "Wanna go for lunch?"

I roll my eyes. "Are you ever not thinking about food?"

"It's lunchtime and I worked up an appetite." He winks.

"I'm sure you did," I say wryly. "Okay. Just let me get dressed." I'm wearing my bathrobe; only my bathrobe.

"Can I watch?" he jokes.

"No—go and talk to my mother."

His face pales and he practically shudders. "Okay, that's not going to happen. Where's your old man?"

"Work."

"Ah..." His grin turns cagey, and wrapping his arms around my waist he draws me back to him. "We can fit in a quickie then."

"If you want to kill me," I reply; though, my body is more responsive to him than I imagined.

"What's that mean?" His brow furrows.

"It means I need some downtime, at least."

"Why?" He's still not convinced.

"I'm...sore." It's the not the right word, but it'll have to do.

His head cocks as if he's deliberating it. "Yeah?"

"Yes." I attempt to wrangle myself from his arms, only to find his hands beneath the satin of my robe. "Edward..."

"Your skin's soft." He bends his head and plants his lips to the base of my neck. "Okay, what the fuck is that smell?" He pulls back again and grimaces.

"You probably don't want to know."

"You're not going to smell like this tonight, are you?" he asks dubiously.

"No," I assure him, and pulling out my robe to partially reveal my chest I take a whiff of myself. "It's not that bad," I state, shoving him back when he attempts to catch a glimpse.

He chuckles lightly. "Hurry up, snotface, I'm hungry."

I sigh loudly, allowing it to morph into a groan. "Okay, while that was cute when you were eleven, it really isn't anymore."

"You're cute, though, so it still applies," he says with a quick grin, and with another sigh I let it go as I slide open my closet doors to change.

Like we always seem to do, we drive to the mall and eat at the food court. I can't continue to eat the way Edward does, and so ordering a salad roll, I find a seat for the two of us and wait for him to return from MacDonald's.

"We gonna have sex tonight?" he asks after swallowing a huge mouthful of his Big Mac.

"There's going to be hundreds of people at your house," I remind him, rolling my eyes.

"So? I have a lock on my door."

"No—everyone will know."

He sighs blatantly, clearly thinking I'm overreacting. "Tomorrow then?"

"God, was I the virgin, or were you?" I tease him.

"I know but you're tight. And hot, and...fuck..." His eyes glaze for a moment before he takes another bite of his burger.

"Okay, I really didn't want to know that about myself..." I say dryly.

"You did pretty good, snotface," he says after moment of gauging me, his smile warm.

"Thanks..." I mumble, letting the snotface go for now.

"Seriously, I thought you'd freak out, but you...didn't."

"Yeah." I shrug, because what can I really say to that? He's right.

"We need to do it again—and soon." He's serious, I realise, and in response, I break into a small amused smile. I like that he wants me, no matter how strange it still feels.

"I'll stay over with you tonight," I offer.

"Your old man won't chuck a fit?"

"It'll be fine," I assure him. "When the party dies down and if you're not too drunk..." I allude, raising my brows.

"'Kay," he says, satisfied. "What are you wearing tonight?"

"It's a secret."

He quirks an eyebrow. "We're not getting married. You can tell me."

"Red," I relent.

"Niiiiiice."

"You?"

He shrugs a shoulder. "We don't get much options. A suit."

"I'm looking forward to it." I am. A well-presented shithead is a sight to behold. Though, rugged, dirty, and smelling of sawdust, Edward is just as equally appealing.

He smirks, breaking my gaze long enough to take another humongous bite of his burger and shoving a handful of fries in his mouth.

"So, what happens tomorrow?" I ask after listening to him enjoying his lunch a little too much. It almost sounds like foreplay, unless I just have it overrunning on my mind.

"What do you mean?" He pauses to glance up at me.

"You said we'd go out until the formal," I point out.

"The formal's not over yet."

"You know what I mean." I sigh.

"What do you think, you pain in the neck?"

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

"So, you think I wanted to just fuck you and then cut you loose?" His voice drops and becomes almost serious, and I scoff, because he has a habit of putting words into my mouth.

"I didn't say that! And it was your idea, don't forget."

"Nothing's going to happen tomorrow. Jesus, Bella."

"So, I passed?" I put to him.

"Of course, you did." He jerks a shoulder and finishes his fries. "Didn't I tell you to stop that?"

"Stop what?"

"To stop thinking I'm an asshole. Actually, to stop thinking in general," he adds sarcastically.

"You want me to be an airhead, do you?" I joke in an attempt to lighten the mood. Edward doesn't get angry as much as he does frustrated, but it's no consolation.

"Yeah, sure..." he mutters. "Bella, you're hot, you're smart and you're my girlfriend. You're doing shit right, so stop that doubting crap all the time."

"You are so up yourself," I say, flooding with affection for him. He sure knows how to take a girl's breath away.

"If I planned on breaking it off after tonight, I wouldn't have got you in the sack. I'm not a complete prick."

"Got me in the sack?" I echo.

"Stop that. You get me."

"I know. I do."

"Don't you ever get sick of it?"

"...Of what?" I hesitate, uncertain of his meaning.

"Having the same conversation over and over."

"We don't..." I say, but I'm not sure I believe it myself.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop thinking I'm an asshole?"

"You think I think you're an asshole, but I don't. I never have."

"Why would you think I wanted to break it off after tonight? —after what we did last night?" he puts to me, and I realise he has me there, and that a certain degree of him is hurt.

"I don't know," I concede, breaking my eyes from his to set them on the table. "These last two weeks have been...not very conventional." Not the right words, again, but I know he'll understand my meaning.

"Stop over thinking shit," he stresses. "All you need to know is that you're my girlfriend and that's not going to change."

"It isn't?" I ask in a small voice, meeting his gaze again reluctantly.

"Why would it? I like having you around—and in my bed." He breaks into that crafty smile of his again.

"I take it back. You really are an asshole," I tease him.

"You like it, too, Rapunzel. You know you do."

"I do," I admit easily.

"New rules."

"Huh?"

"No apologising over the past and no comparing me to limp dick. Right?"

"I don't..."

Edward groans loudly, effectively cutting me off. "Will you shut up and just agree to it."

"Okay..." I over-exaggerate it. "What happens if I break them?"

"Let me think about it." There's something sly about his expression, and I roll my eyes.

"Okay, fine."

"Fine," he imitates me, and picking up a small, dried, discarded fry he tosses it at me.

I swat it away and huff, but his words have impacted me, and already it's plunging me into uncertainty.

"You're not angry, are you?" I ask as we exit the escalator to the underground carpark. I have my hair appointment with Alice at 2:30 and time's running out.

He glances down at me, his brow creasing in confusion. "I'm not angry—you'd know if I was."

"I'm just..." But with a sigh, I let it go.

"You're just what?"

"I'm not very good at being a girlfriend..." I mumble, my eyes on the ground.

The air shoots from his nose, alluding to his continued frustration. "Will you look at me?" I do. "There's nothing wrong with you, except for the fact that you wasted your time on a fucking prick who put all this doubt in your head." He flicks my forehead in emphasis and hooks his elbow around my neck. "Once I get it out of you, you'll be fine." His lips plant to the top of my head before he releases me and takes my hand.

I straighten myself out and nudge him with my shoulder, but I'm unable to hold off the smile from spreading across my face. Despite all evidence to the contrary he really does have a way with words.

"I have very high standards, Bella, and you've always been at the top of them," he continues the conversation on the drive home, his eyes momentarily breaking from the road to glance at me.

I return his smile, but it's only brief. "On paper, Lauren is a lot prettier than I am."

He almost chokes. "Um—what?" He turns to me again, his expression one of disbelief. "Is that what you think, is it?"

"Come on. What guy on the planet would rather a brunette over a blonde?"

"Me," he says simply, but I'm cynical.

"That's why you have Miss Blonde and Busty on your computer and not Miss Brunette and Busty," I remind him.

"Bella..." he begins, fighting the obvious urge to grin, "I don't have her as my screensaver because she's blonde. I have her on it because she has big tits."

Okay, that should one have been obvious, and I have absolutely nothing to come back with.

"Jesus, Bella..." he murmurs, flicking his indicator to change lanes.

"What?" I ask, but I'm fairly certain of his meaning.

"We're having the same conversation again."

"No, we're—"

"How many times have I told you how beautiful you are?"

"You kind of have to say that."

"If I didn't think it, I wouldn't be with you."

"I know..." I begin when he immediately interrupts.

"You know how many times I used to think about you when I was fucking her?" he admits completely straight faced, and if ever there was something I both loved and loathed equally that would be it.

"Edward..." I complain. "I don't want to know that—oh my god!" I'm suddenly recalling the moment several months back when Mike and I passed Edward and Lauren on the top floor of the mall. It was a Saturday afternoon and we were coming back from the cinema. Mike was holding my hand, and Edward had his arm casually slung around Lauren's neck. I groaned when I noticed him coming, and when my eyes met with his he flashed me his usual smirk.

"Snotface," he greeted me.

"Shithead," I replied sarcastically, thinking nothing of it.

"What?" Edward quizzes pulling me back to the present moment.

"You called me snotface in front of her," I say, shaking my head from the memory of it, and from my own disbelief.

"I called you snotface in front of her several times. I told you, it was our secret."

"God, how could I forget?"

"You want me to grab your tits?" he threatens, and he's not wholly joking.

"I'm such an..."

"Bella," he warns, his voice lowering. "Where did this come from—was it really him?"

"...What?" I'm not sure of his meaning.

"You having such a low opinion of yourself?"

"I don't. I mean... I don't know!" I burst, lost for words and becoming flustered.

"Did he ever tell you you're beautiful?" he asks, and my guess is he already knows the answer.

"Can we not talk about this...?" I appeal to him.

"He didn't. Jesus..." he mutters, shaking his head.

"Whether he did or not, it's irrelevant. Besides, I don't think I'm ugly," I clarify, wishing we could get off this topic. "Edward..."

"Everything I say to you... You don't believe me, do you?"

"Of course, I do." I'm adamant, and for the most part I do. I just don't have the talent of saying everything that comes into my head the way he does. "And I love that you think I'm beautiful."

"But you don't believe it..." It's not a question this time.

"It's the same with every girl."

"Jesus, you're a pain in the neck."

"I'm just not as self-assured as you are. Besides, there is such a thing as being modest."

"I'm a realist." He turns to me and winks. "Repeat after me."

"What?"

"Shut up and repeat after me."

"Repeat what?"

"I'm beautiful."

"...What?"

He groans loudly to himself. "Say 'I'm beautiful'."

"I'm beautiful," I humour him.

"I'm hot."

"Edward..."

"Stop your bitching and just say it."

"I'm hot," I say dryly.

"I want to fuck my boyfriend all night."

"I want—oh my god!"

He laughs wholeheartedly and pulls to a stop alongside my house. "Okay, get out. I'll see you tonight."

"Thanks for lunch, shithead." I lean naturally toward him and he inclines his head, allowing me to kiss him.

"Welcome." He plants his lips to my cheek, leaving them against me for a moment. "How you having your hair?"

"Up," I answer, closing my eyes as my face drags lusciously against the coarseness of his.

"Good—Jesus, you smell weird." He pulls back. "Have a shower." He grabs my nose again, and impatient, I shove him from me.

"You're a shithead."

He laughs softly through his nose. "I'll pick you up at six."

"Okay. And... sorry about, well... you know..."

He sighs very pointedly and almost smiles. "I know. I just... I don't want you to think I'd ever hurt you like he did."

"He didn't hurt me," I insist, even as my voice falls to a whisper.

"Yeah, he did," he says gently, because this guy doesn't miss a beat when it comes to me.

I shake my head, changing course. "I don't think you'll hurt me like that."

"I won't. Anyway," he appears to shrug it off, "I think we just talk too much."

I almost laugh, because understatement of the universe. "No kidding."

"Would you bugger off?"

"Bye," I mock him, and then doing what he often does to me, I flick my index finger against his brow. I don't get the same result and Edward naturally thinks it's amusing, but for some reason I'm flooding with affection for him. I kiss him again, and place my lips to his ear. "I love you," I whisper.

"Yeah, I know." Is his reply, albeit with a tenderness to his voice, but I'm already reacting to him.

"What...?" I utter, at a loss for words, when he rolls his eyes.

"You know how I feel about you, you pain in the neck, now get out of my car!"

"I'm going!" Turning, I reach for the door handle.

"Hey..." he blurts, grabbing my hand, and when I meet his gaze over my shoulder, he throws me a remorseful smile.

"What...?" I ask my voice softening by the length of vulnerability suddenly reflecting in his expression.

"Snotface," he says, but for the briefest moment I thought he was going to say something else.

It's enough, though. It's Edward.

"Shithead."

A/N: What the hell is with these two. I don't even bloody know half the time.