A/N: Hi. This is neither big nor dramatic, so no reason to make it into a big deal, but my updates to this story will be more spread out and erratic until September (likely once per two or three weeks). This is not your fault. This is not the story's fault. I'm as excited as ever to write it. I just have multiple clashing demands in RL that require my attention. I'm still here, I'll still update, you'll just have to (try to) be a bit patient with me for a while.
I'll still adore all your little messages and reminders about how eager you are for me to continue. Love them!
Thank you for understanding 3
…
Scheduled for Friday
by Anton M.
38: The Most Precious Thing
…
Saturday, February 4 (cont.)
"And you didn't run after him when he saw Bella texting me?"
"You can't have it both ways, Emmett—sir," Edward rubbed his face, elbows on his knees, frustrated. It was ten PM, and we were sitting on our lumpy couch being interrogated by our muscle mountain. "You either want me to keep Bella safe, or you want me to chase after the guy. You can't get both. What if there was someone else? Would you really I left Bella to fend for herself if he hadn't been alone?"
"Of course not," Emmett retorted. He let out a loud breath and held his palm against the side of his neck, waiting for his tic to subside. "I'm sorry. You did well. Please always prioritize Bella in these situations. I only wish I'd been closer. A license plate would be such an easy lead, but it's not your fault we didn't get it."
Emmett had dropped dad off at home before having dinner in a restaurant two buildings away from us, but the fact that my attention on my phone immediately spooked the guy didn't help. He fled quicker than we had time to react, and by the time we rushed to the parking lot, he was gone. We'd even waited to see if any cars left the parking lot until Emmett found us by the entrance of the bowling alley only a few minutes later.
My parents sat in the armchair beside us, their tired eyes wide and concerned as Edward and I listed off whatever characteristics of the man we could remember. He wasn't familiar to either of us (that we could tell from a distance), and he'd been far enough not to catch the specifics of his eye color or any recognizable characteristics like scars, or even height. He was white, had brownish hair, wore a black cap and a blue surgical mask but nothing else specifically stood out about him. He stood taller than Ansley in his black trousers and dark jacket, but that only meant that he must've been taller than 5'6''.
Together with Edward, Emmett had requested the security tapes from the bowling alley but we expected the man to have avoided facing any, and Ansley didn't remember anything else about the man except for what Edward and I had already caught. It was understandable, though. Who did their job staring into strangers' eyes and registering their eye color?
The trouble was, even if the man hadn't been spooked by my phone, we couldn't have had any claim on the photos he'd taken. A bowling alley was a public venue, and, according to Emmett, Georgia had recently changed its laws about taking photos of minors without their parents' consent. But taking photos of me in the middle of the night in my home had definitely been illegal (whether or not it was the same man), so at least it felt a bit reassuring that if any gossip rag or newspaper agreed to publish the previous photos, they'd be in trouble.
"And you weren't drinking any alcohol?"
"No." Edward scoffed. "We drank coke. I'm not saying I never drink, but usually I just stay over at Jasper's or wherever after I've had a few beers." Realizing what he'd admitted, his eyes flickered to my parents, but dad lifted his hand in acknowledgement.
"Appreciate the honesty," he said. "It's fine. Renee and I are probably more aware of drinking in your school than most parents. Appreciate that you're smart about it."
Edward relaxed.
In spite of his weekend plans, Emmett offered to stay the night in our living room (just in case), but my parents were home and there was no reason for us to fear any physical danger. Regardless, Emmett spoke to my parents privately in the driveway before he left, no doubt touching upon topics we couldn't discuss around Edward.
Mr. Whale Stomach, meanwhile, had a plateful of garlic-egg noodles my dad had whipped up for dinner, and I stole a few bites even though I wasn't hungry. By the time my parents returned, Edward had inhaled the giant plate and did not refuse seconds.
Wanting to distract myself from all of my nail-biting, I asked, "Where do you put all the food?"
"I'm a growing boy, baby," Edward replied, chewing and patting his flat stomach. He paused mid-bite, staring at me. "Wait, is this some kind of test and I should've been doing the polite thing of pretending not to be hungry?"
"God no." I squeezed his thigh. "My parents are mad about feeding my friends. You'd better not reduce your food intake—ever, because there will be questioning. Alice refused her favorite cheese taquitos once and my dad wouldn't shut up about it for weeks."
Relieved, Edward gulped down the rest of the noodles.
Mom returned from the kitchen, sat in dad's lap in the armchair, and handed dad his wine glass. They gave us uneasy smiles. I didn't feel any less tense than they looked, but they spoke in low voices between themselves without involving us.
Edward gently pulled my fingers from my mouth. "Didn't know you bit your nails."
"I don't always. I've been quite good for the past few weeks, but whenever—" I straightened my shoulders, hiding my nails in my palm when he tried to observe them. I'd bitten off my index and middle fingernails on my left hand even if most of my nails were clean-cut. "It's an anxiety thing," I admitted, embarrassed.
Edward squeezed my hand between both of his warm, large palms, bending forward. His beautiful, concerned eyes searched mine, and his voice was barely audible. "You still freaked out?"
"It's stupid."
It was. It was the stupidest thing. I was in no real physical danger. I never had been. Clearly not eager to actually be confronted, the man had fled almost as quickly as we'd noticed him, so it wasn't like I should've been afraid of him robbing us in the middle of the night or anything. But whether it was because he had, actually, shown up behind our window in the middle of the night last time (if it was the same man) or because it was so unsettling to have a stranger take your photos unannounced like that, I felt… unnerved.
I was scared of what this meant for the gossip rags tomorrow, if it meant anything.
I was scared that my days with Edward might've been more counted than I was prepared to handle.
I was scared that the questions in Edward's eyes that he didn't give voice to (knowing I couldn't answer them) would lead him to the truth quicker than he was prepared to handle.
Frowning, Edward chewed on his bottom lip, his voice so soft and caring it sent a flurry of warmth through me. "Do you want me to stay over?"
Yes. Yes, please.
I let my knees fall on his thighs as I turned and kissed his shoulder.
"It's okay," I said against everything I wanted. "It's stupid."
"It's creepy as fuck, Bella," he replied sharply. "It's okay to be freaked out." He tilted my chin towards him. "Say the word and I'll stay."
His green eyes were bright with concern, but I hesitated long enough that Edward squeezed my hand and turned to my parents.
"I can take the floor or couch."
Mom looked just about ready to adopt Edward while dad seemed mildly constipated, but, given his torn eyes, not unsympathetic.
"You can sleep wherever you're comfortable," mom gave the political answer. "If your father is okay with you staying?"
Edward was up in a flash, making a phone call so short that he'd barely walked to the kitchen and muttered a few short words before he reappeared in the hallway and pocketed his phone. He offered to drive home to get his toothbrush and other things but mom was already on a mission to find him a spare toothbrush and dad's unopened pack of pajamas from Christmas. By the time the decision was settled and dad seemed to relax somewhat, dad bid us goodnight and disappeared in my parents' bedroom.
Jittery with nerves, I found my cutest pajama set—pink cotton pants and an unsexy but clean white-and-pink T-shirt—and went to the bathroom to change. Mom quietly followed me. She locked the door behind her, made the faucet run (to mute our voices), and crouched lower to meet my eyes.
"Sweetie, are you okay?"
Confused and unused to her following me to the bathroom, I blinked at her light blue eyes and her fraction-of-an-inch of black hair peeking out from the dyed gray. "Yeah, of course. Why?"
"I've never seen you look so terrified. It was really no wonder Edward offered to stay, honey, boy looks just about ready to hug you to death. Are you sure?"
"I just—" I lowered my voice to a whisper, unwilling to accept the sudden pang of fear heating up inside me. "What if this fucks up the—" Feeling my throat constrict, I mouthed, "timeline?"
Mom hugged me. "I know, honey."
"What if I never get to—" I swallowed, blinking furiously because it was not the time to cry. With the voice of a scared mouse, I said, "I just want more time with him."
"I know, honey." Mom squeezed me. "Whatever happens, your dad and I will always be here for you. Always. And frankly, it's his loss if he runs away."
She spoke so quietly I could barely hear her words.
"Don't say that," I whispered. "He's perfect."
"The boy eats like an animal and wears hoodies better suited for dusting. I think you're a bit biased, here."
I grinned in spite of myself. "You know what I mean."
With a final squeeze and words of love, mom left me alone. I got changed, fretted with my hair, and considered leaving my mascara and concealer on. But the thought of breaking out after refusing to remove make-up was scarier than showing Edward my acne scars (not that he hadn't seen them before, but whatever). I removed my make-up.
Vibrating with nerves and anticipation, I opened my bedroom door to discover Edward standing in full height in his boxer-briefs, holding the jeans he'd just taken off. A wild ache settled in my stomach at the almost-naked sight of him. His chest was lean and fit, his arms and legs were covered by warm-toned brownish hair, and he had a beautiful happy trail that led to black boxer-briefs with tiny polka dots.
His eyes met mine, and a flush warmed my cheeks before I stumbled backwards.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered, shutting the door, turning around and facepalming in the dark hallway. I wasn't sure if the sound I muffled was a burst of demented laughter or a happy cry. The attractive bulge in his polka-dotted underwear sent a jolt of nerves through me, and I felt breathless in anticipation of getting to sleep next to him.
But the casual confusion (and no embarrassment) in his eyes also tied a knot in my stomach. My best pajamas were pretty pathetic, not at all hot, and he'd probably seen better. He stood there all fit and gorgeous while I didn't even own a set of sexy lingerie, and it struck me that if things progressed between us, he'd become the first guy to see the hyperpigmentation around my private parts.
Not tonight, but… sometime, in the future. I didn't know how comfortable I was with showing him that part of myself. What if it was a turn off for him?
I suddenly felt small and inadequate in my pink kiddie pajamas.
The hallway brightened with a crack of light.
"Bella? You okay?"
I sucked up the fear and longing that swirled in my stomach when I returned to the bedroom. Jake followed me. Edward had put on blue pajama bottoms but no shirt. Unable to meet his gaze, I chose a light square-shaped birthmark on his skin to focus on.
"I'm sorry I made you stay," I whispered, feeling about the size of the birthmark on his chest, except much more inexperienced. "You can go home if you want to. I'm sorry."
I was met with warm, firm, bare skin when Edward pulled me into a hug. He had a smile in his voice. "Bella, I used to live in a single-wide one-bedroom. Changing clothes in front of random guests was not uncommon up until last year. C'mon. It's not a big deal." His eyes were tender and teasing when he nudged me backwards to see my face. "I know you're probably used to muscled twenty-something actors who get paid to work out, but am I really so bad that you want me to leave?"
"No!" I rushed to correct him, flushing so hard that I face-planted against his bare chest. "I'm just—I'm sorry I look nothing like you."
He muffled his laughter against my hair. "I'm very grateful you look nothing like me."
Obviously, that wasn't what I meant, but I still smiled.
Holding my hand, Edward backed up against my bed and sat down. Feeling awkward and bold, all at once, I'd barely straddled his thighs when he took hold of the insides of my knees and slid me flush against his chest. I released a sharp puff of air. It was warm and intimate and endlessly delicious, feeling his bulge right there, under me. I pressed my lips against his neck when he took my ass in his hands and lifted me to shift his pajamas back into place. He nuzzled my ear. "This okay?"
Jesus, was it ever.
Breathless with his proximity and drowning in his scent, I hummed in agreement.
"Words," he urged, his hot breath moving my hair.
"Yes," I replied, tickling my fingertips with his buzz cut. "So okay."
He rubbed my nose side to side with his own, his eyes bright and alive before he pressed his tooth-pasty, minty lips against mine. Melting, I inhaled through his mouth, massaging more than tugging his hair as I floated away in his kiss. It was intoxicating to have his naked chest against me, bare and warm and beautiful. Tingly goosebumps erupted on my neck when he slid his warm palms under my T-shirt and squished my chest against his. His quiet, guttural groan vibrated through me. I felt heavy and high, afloat in the warmth of our shared breath and the cute, cold reminder of his piercing against my skin.
Through my delicious daze, I heard his mumbled, "Good distraction?" against the corner of my lips. His eyes were hooded and twinkling when I pulled back, but I was turned on and breathing hard, struggling to keep my eyes open.
"Fuck, baby." Edward groaned, a plea and a warning, resting his forehead against my temple. "You are not allowed to look at me like that for another two weeks."
Bursting with affection, I wrapped him in hug. Edward returned it fiercely, protectively, as tight as I imagined his handshakes to be. He lowered his chin to my shoulder, pressing his smile against my T-shirt. I adored how his chest crushed against mine with our deep breaths.
"Sorry," I breathed, barely a whisper.
Edward's eyes held a simmering tension when he tucked a curl behind my ear. The corner of his mouth rose but he shook his head, deciding against whatever he'd intended to say.
"Do you want me to put on a T-shirt?" he asked instead.
No. Please no. Not in this lifetime.
I glanced down at the slightly-freckled, fit chest I'd much rather kiss than cover when Edward reached for the T-shirt hanging off the foot of my bed. I pulled his arm back.
"I'd like to…" I hesitated, grazing my knuckles down along the center of his lean chest until his happy trail tickled my skin. Edward jerked. In a flash, he pinned my wrists together in front of me. His eyes were wild and pleading.
"Fuck," he rumbled, voice raw. "Baby." A shiver ran down my spine at the way his palms gripped my wrists to keep me immobile. He was breathlessly hot, holding me, and his effect on me probably went directly against his intention.
"Christ." His laugh was quiet but sharp. "Okay. That's a no-go zone, baby."
His erection felt delicious and forbidden and… ugh, I could've kissed him forever.
Edward lifted me off his lap but not before pecking my lips with an amused warning in his eyes. He reached for the gum in his jean pockets. Having never seen an erection, I peeked at the intimidating outline of his cock, tucked to the side and not tenting his pants like I'd expected. A nervous longing tugged inside me at the sight, and heat warmed my cheeks as I realized I'd caused it. But before he could discover me staring at the hot, daunting outline of his cock, I turned to hide my reaction.
Dermot Kennedy started playing mid-song as I connected dad's Bluetooth speakers to my phone. I'd had Dancing Under Red Skies on repeat since the morning, and the words lifted me up for the entire day. I didn't think Edward had meant anything by his song choice, but the words were impossible not to read into, and I adored the tiniest possibility that he chose the song for its lyrics.
Surreal wasn't a strong enough word for lying down on my bed with Edward under the covers. Facing me, Edward rested the side of his head against his open palm, propping his head up as he chewed his glacier gum, and I struggled not to stare at his naked, muscled chest and biceps. The tuft of hair peeking out from under his armpit somehow sealed the deal and made me afloat in the knowledge that I had a man in my bed.
Edward trailed his fingertips over the goosebumps on my forearm before he sat up, reached for his hoodie and held out the head hole for me to put my head through. Buzzing with affection, I put it on and sunk into his scent.
I curled my arm under my pillow and smiled up at him when we lay down again, facing each other. The bedside lamp cast a warm glow on us.
"Why're you chewing gum after you've brushed your teeth?"
Edward had this sparkly, secret look in his eyes that squeezed my heart.
"I like it."
"How can you like power-washing your mouth with permafrost?"
Edward laughed.
"Gimme," I demanded. "Maybe it's an acquired taste."
Like he'd done minutes before our first kiss, Edward rolled it into a tube and held it between his lips before I took his gum, bit into it for three seconds and returned it to him with a rushed, exhale-y kiss.
"Like shaving your tongue with an igloo."
Chewing on his prickly avalanche, he shook with laughter. "I cannot wait for the food critique you'll publish one day."
I felt alight, bantering with him and making him laugh, wondering if all relationships came so easy. I tried very hard not to think of how insanely attractive he was, casually lying on my bed and giving me his undivided attention.
When he settled back on the bed after throwing away his permafrost gum, I asked, "When's your birthday?"
"Thursday."
"February 9th?" At his nod, I kissed his knuckles. "Were you going to tell me it's coming up?"
Edward hummed. "Not sure. It's not a big deal."
"You're turning eighteen! It's a huge deal. And what are the chances that out of almost two thousand students in our school, we'd have our birthdays within a week of each other?"
It was a rhetorical question, but Edward smiled. "Incredibly high, actually. You only need 23 people to have an above-50% chance that two birthdays coincide in a given year. 50 to have a near-hundred percent chance that they do. The same can only apply to any random length of time—that you'd consider significant—between two birthdays."
I blinked at him out-dorking me with his random bits of knowledge. "23, really? I'll pay you 20 bucks for a line graph because that doesn't sound right."
Edward laughed.
"Pay me with kisses and I'll draw you the line graph for free."
My attempts to get birthday present ideas out of him were met with shrugs until he admitted that he'd never received a gift beyond a pack of socks and a chocolate bar from his mom—sometimes a hoodie. The helmet we'd given him was easily more expensive than all of his previous gifts combined, at least from his parents (the same was true for me, to be fair). Fortunately, the affectionate, near-shy way he spoke about my birthday card to my dad gave me the absolute easiest idea for a gift to him, or at least a part of it.
"What about you?" he asked, drawing a maddening little line from the dip of my waist to the tip of my hip with his fingertips. I shivered.
"I'd like to get my ears pierced."
Edward swung closer to me on his elbow, gripping my neck and breathing against my cheek as he flicked my earlobe with his thumb. "Holy shit," he whispered, eyes wide. "I never noticed. How did I never—?"
"It's okay. People usually don't."
"You must be the first girl I've met since third grade who doesn't have her ears pierced. I can't believe I didn't notice." Edward pressed a soft kiss in front of my ear before he pulled back and searched my eyes, clearly surprised. "Can I ask why? Are you scared of needles?"
Goosebumps arose on my neck when he kept trailing little lines with his fingertips along my cheek and hairline.
"No. Mom actually wanted to get my ears pierced when I was maybe three months old, but dad was against it. She argued that it was perfect because I'd never remember the pain, and dad argued that it was cruel because I'd still feel it. Dad won."
"Funny, my parents had the same discussion when I was born."
I laughed.
Edward's eyes twinkled, but there was a truth in his expression that gave me pause.
"Wait," I said, taking his palm and kissing it. "Are you talking about—?"
"If what you're talking about is what I'm talking about, then yes, I am talking about." Edward pressed a kiss against the corner of my lips and grinned. "My parents never discussed circumcision. Dad thought doing it was the default just to discover after I was born that mom disagreed. He argued that I'd be bullied because everyone else would look different from me—and him—but mom had a friend whose husband had had it fucked up as an infant, so she argued against it, obviously."
"And who won?"
I paused, my eyes widening to a comic extent as I realized what I'd just asked him.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, mortified. I pulled the covers over my head. "You don't have to answer."
Edward laughed and joined me under the covers only to pull them down. I adored the amused, sparkly look in his eyes.
"Mom won."
I didn't know why I asked, it wasn't like I would've been able to tell, but it was still interesting that Edward was uncut.
"And was your dad right? Has anyone ever bullied you over it?"
Edward tilted his head with a clear expression of 'do I look like the kind of guy who'd be bullied?' before he paused. "No. I don't think it's a thing. Maybe twenty years ago, but now? I've no clue who's cut or uncut. I don't think anyone cares."
"Good."
I stifled my smile, unable to shake off the strangeness of discussing Edward's (no doubt beautiful) peen.
With laughter in his eyes, Edward pressed a kiss against my lips.
"Okay, the fascinating topic of my cock aside, how come you never got your ears pierced?"
"My granny was always annoyed I never had them pierced, and by the time I understood what it meant to have earrings, mom didn't care as much, and my granny is—she's complicated and never really liked me, so I grew up defying her. Ever since I can remember, I've refused to pierce my ears just to spite her."
Edward hesitated. "Why doesn't she like you?"
"You know." I shrugged. "All cinnamon bun and no kosher salt and all that. She ordered bleaching sunscreen from Asia for me when I was younger and made me use it. Heavy duty stuff, so I had a reaction. Could barely touch soap for a few days because my skin hurt so much."
"What?!"
I smiled because his reaction was so innocent and I didn't know how else to express the heaviness of the topic. "Edward, most of Asia wants to be whiter, the Vietnamese included. I don't think my mom could've possibly done anything more rebellious to spite her own mother than have a kid with a black guy. I am the living embodiment of how much my mom resents her own mother."
"Fuck, I… didn't know that. I'm sorry. Are you still in contact with her?"
"Occasionally. Rarely. We didn't visit her for two years after the sunscreen incident, but… yeah, she pops up sometimes."
Edward drew a line from my shoulder to my knuckles before he intertwined our fingers. My heart nearly burst from seeing him wear my pink-and-purple threads proudly around his wrist. "Can I come with you when you get your ears pierced?"
"I'd love that."
I turned to shift closer to him and lie on my stomach when a hard pebble pressed against my ribs. Letting go of Edward, I wiggled downwards and slid my palm along the sheets. I found nothing, but lying down proved that there was something, and I discovered it when I slid my hand into the hoodie pocket and pulled out a loose, wonky braid. It was tied together of a light blue, a dark blue, and a thinner gold thread. An uneven heavy pearl slid along the string.
Edward snatched it from my hands and hid it under his pillow. "That's not for you."
My heart sank.
Of course, he had every right to own mementos he'd intended to give Lauren, but his words still hurt me.
Avoiding his eyes, I turned and faced the ceiling. Desperately blinking back the sting behind my eyes, I attempted a smile, but I was much too tired to put effort into it.
"That's okay," I whispered in a voice that was a little bit too high and breathy. "Was it for Lauren? Or—" Oh God, what if one of his previous girlfriends had given it to him? Suddenly, I didn't want to know. "Never mind. I'm sorry for—I didn't mean to, to invade your privacy or anything like that. It just poked me, so I'm—I'm sorry."
I switched off the bedside lamp. Letting out a shaky breath, I sunk against my pillow and buried my face in it to dry my eyelashes.
I felt silly and selfish. Edward didn't need to give me gifts to prove anything, and it wasn't his fault that he had a history and I didn't.
"Bella…" Edward covered my back with his arm, but I took it off and fought the heat in my throat.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You don't—you don't have to give me pretty things just to—I'm sorry. I'm stupid. It's just, is it okay if you keep things you got for, or, or, from—" I took a sharp breath. "Other girls, elsewhere?"
"Come here, my feather-heart." Edward scooted me flush against him, squishing me against his bare chest and nudging my head to rest on his bicep under his pillow. His arm surrounded me. He held his lips against my forehead, letting me pretend I wasn't crying in silence as he brushed his thumb over my hairline and made the sweetest little 'shh' sounds. My heart swelled up from how comforting and lovely he could be.
"I didn't even know how to braid up until today morning," he said in the quietest, most tender voice. "A five-year-old had to teach me. How pathetic is that?"
"That's not pathetic." I sniffed. "It's cute as hell."
Edward kissed my nose. "What I'm saying is, of course I made it for you. It's just that—it's pretty bad. I don't want to give it to you."
"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
A half-scoff, half-laugh escaped him. "It's ugly. I can't give it to you on the day you gave me a helmet almost more expensive than my bike. It's not fair. Your threads could be sold on Etsy while mine… took me hours and should probably be burnt. Let me—let me make a few attempts before I'm capable of creating something you'd like."
"No," I refused. "I want this one."
"It's really not—"
"My boyfriend learned to braid to make me a bracelet. Gimme, gimme."
Edward laughed. I pulled back my face, just a few inches, enough to make out the rough outline of his mouth and eyes under the glistening silver of his barbell. In the relative darkness, Edward wrapped the loosely braided, wonky thread around my wrist six times, and I could feel the cold pearl press against my skin as he began to tie it.
"I'm sure it's plastic."
"I don't mind. Plastic is forever."
Edward scoff-laughed against my skin. "Isn't that beautiful. But you can take the thread off if it doesn't fit your outfits or whatever."
"Shut up and tie it. It's the most precious thing anyone's ever given me."
Edward pressed me against him once he was done. Beyond happy with my new bracelet, I scratched his buzz cut and kissed him. He hummed and tightened his arms around me.
"I like feather-heart, but… I'm not sure it's a compliment."
"Of course it's a compliment," he replied, sliding his arm under my T-shirt and holding his palm against my heart on my back. His voice got so low and rough I almost couldn't hear him from over the song. "It's… how I feel with you. Weightless and…" He paused, clearing his throat. "…floating in the wind."
My heart burst from affection even if I fought with myself not to tease him for how cheesy that was.
"Me, too," I whispered, relishing his heartbeat against mine. "But Jasper will wring your neck with your balls if he hears you call me that."
"Oh I'd like to see him try. I have plenty of shit on him for him to think twice about doing that."
I parted my legs when he nudged my knees with his own, intertwining our legs, and it was such a heady proximity, feeling his heartbeat and being surrounded by his half-naked warmth. His nose touched mine, and we lay wordless in each other's arms. I couldn't even begin to acknowledge the ball of fear bubbling up inside me. Instead, I focused on my giddy affection in the here and now.
"Thank you for staying over. I would've almost certainly ended up sleeping on my parents' carpet in their bedroom had you not agreed."
Edward grinned. "It was a tough decision. Going home to sleep alone or having an excuse to keep my cute girlfriend warm? Don't know how I made that choice."
I smacked his arm but smiled. Edward's palm stilled on my back, and I didn't need to read his mind to take the educated guess that we'd both arrived at the elephant in the room.
"Can we keep the serious stuff for tomorrow?" I asked, quietly, enjoying our evening too much to (attempt to) answer his questions about my stalker.
Edward whispered his agreement against my lips before he palmed my ass and shifted me to press his cock directly against my crotch. It felt intimate and unreal. He caught my hum in his mouth as a delicious ache tugged inside me.
"This okay?" he whispered, his breath ghosting against my lips, and I nodded before I remembered to voice my agreement. Squirming under him, breathing his breath, and squeezing the muscles on his back, I was caught off guard when I realized that his cock was throbbing against me.
Eyes wide, I pulled my lips from his.
"I thought it was a figure of speech."
"What?"
I could've melted in how rough and rumbly his voice sounded. Putting my fingers on his warm neck, I felt his pulse, grinning.
"I thought it was a figure of speech when they write that the cock throbs, but it literally pulses with your heartbeat. It moves. I just—I didn't know that."
Edward shook as he muffled his laughter against my neck. "Fucking hell, baby."
Heat flushed my face, and I cringed. "Sorry," I muttered, mortified. "Sorry. I'm an imbecile. I'll stop talking now, promise."
"Don't." Edward nuzzled my cheek. "Please don't. I love it. You just caught me off guard, and I'm not sure how I'm supposed to keep away from you when you're reaching unreachable levels of adorable."
I pressed my lips against the corner of his mouth before I grinned. "Can I touch it?"
Growl-like laughter escaped him. "Fuck. I can't tell you how much I'd love that, and also—absolutely not. I'm already playing with fire." His voice was restrained but soft as he adjusted himself above me. "Just give me a moment."
"Why?"
Okay, I wasn't that stupid. But it was fun to mess with him.
"Because—" Edward groaned, taking a breath so deep his chest crushed mine, just a bit, and the cold edge of his piercing touched my temple. "Because the hottest thing I've ever touched is squirming under me and I'm wearing her father's pajamas."
As tempted as I was to keep messing with him, I stopped. He turned us on the side and hugged me. I could still feel his cock pulsating against me, but I held still, bathing in his hot breath against my skin and his fingertips tracing little patterns on my back. Edward had no right to fill my heart so quickly but I had no say in how fast it was happening, and I would've had sex with him in a heartbeat if he'd been comfortable with it.
Feeling safe and wanted, I pressed a kiss against his neck. "I have another birthday wish because I'm greedy like that."
"I'm listening."
I heard him more through the vibrations of our bodies than the words themselves.
"I'd like you to be my first."
Edward growled and crushed me tighter against him, surrounding me with his skin and his scent. A longing heat tugged in my stomach when his lips brushed against my ear. "You have no clue how much I want that," he whispered, his voice grumbly and yet oh-so-tender. "No clue, little feather-heart. That sounds more like a birthday gift to me than to you."
After more kissing and touching and laughter than any first (but seventh) date had any right to end with, I fell asleep past two AM squished against Edward's bare chest.
…
A/N: Thank you for being so patient and kind :) adore your thoughts!
