Your reviews and thoughts help tremendously, especially at times when I think my own words are messing up my own story LOL
At some point overnight, the heavy rains had stopped. It was gradual, as if reluctant to release its grip of terror over the city. Still, eventually, the downpour had lessened from a steady stream to a drizzle and then to nothing except the aftermath of slight drips against the ground from higher surfaces. The clouds had drifted, dissipating to make way for a peaceful morning sun, though some puddles were left behind on the uneven streets below.
The light shines gently through the small window in Edward's apartment, splaying its dull rays onto the couple lying in bed. Though it is early morning, there is warmth in this sunrise, and normally it would have woken him from a deep sleep.
But today, he is not sleeping.
Neither is the woman on his lap, rising and falling into the stream of sunlight with each advance of his hips. They are unaware of the light that bathes them, too engrossed in one another to realize the world still turns on the other side of his window. On any other day, he would have been out there with the rest of them; his mind stretched far too thin about work.
But not today. Today the pub is the last thing on his mind.
Tightening his grip on her waist, he leans her back slightly, so one side of her is closer to the window, wanting to see her now with the sunrise dancing across her skin. His back rests against the headboard of his bed, and this time his eyes travel the same path his hands had taken countless times between last night and now. He watches her hips roll above him, sees himself disappear inside her completely, and presses her down against him firmly once more, pushing himself into her as far as he can. Edward groans at the way she feels around him, unsure how he is ever going to be able to leave this bed now that he's had her.
Isabella gasps at the new depth, throwing her head back and arching her body at the feel of him rising to meet her again. Her hair, once in a soft braid against her neck, falls loosely down her shoulders and against her back as she grips his thighs in an attempt to remain upright.
It's not the first time since Isabella arrived at Edward's apartment that she has felt the world spin beneath her feet.
"Edward," she breathes, her eyes fluttering closed as he moves slowly beneath her. They're slow this time. Languid. She wants to feel the weight of his body on hers. She wants to feel his lips on her neck. Wants to hear him breathe heavily in her ear as he drives them both to a release she never knew existed. She leans down to his face, her hair a curtain over them as their swollen mouths meet lazily after a night of shared secrets and passion that must have been plucked from one of her dreams.
She pants against his mouth, her soft moans raspy and tired in the best way when his hand tangles in her hair. Their lips meet and separate, their tongues circling at the same speed as his upward thrusts and her downward spirals.
God, she's close. He can feel it. He has already begun to memorize her in his mind. Her sounds. Her skin. The way her fingernails feel as they sink into his back. The warm way she feels around him when he's buried inside her.
And his favorite. The face she makes when she comes.
"I want to watch you," he tells her. "Sit back."
With her eyes trained on him, she presses a hand against his chest and slides back into the sunlight. Her movements slow as she watches his eyes slide down her body, stopping at her breasts as the sun, and him, warm a thin sweat onto her skin. The heat puckers her nipples in its wake, and he can remember how the pink peaks feel against his tongue and beneath his fingers.
He bites his bottom lip as he stares at her, wanting to taste her again but also needing to watch. His hands move from her hips to squeeze her ass, pushing her up his length slowly and guiding her back down again.
"More," Isabella whispers, her eyes leaving his when her head falls back again at the feel of him stretching her. "God, Edward, more."
He curses under his breath; Isabella's words send a tightening to his lower stomach he can't ignore. He does what she says, this time sliding her down onto his cock a little harder than before. She cries out again, louder, and he isn't sure how much longer he can last.
"Come, Isabella," Edward begs. He lets out a moan when he feels her squeeze around him, a warmth enveloping him into oblivion. "Fuck, I need to see it."
She meets his eyes, emeralds like the trees back home, hooded in desire so intense it makes her grab him by the shoulders and yank him upward.
As much as he wants to watch, she needs to feel.
She needs his mouth on her.
She needs his fingertips burning fires against her skin.
Sitting up with her now, he wraps an arm around her waist and levels her with a kiss that has them both suddenly frantic. He cups her breast as his other hand pushes them together beneath the sheets.
When he slides a hand between them, his fingers rubbing circles where they meet, they get what they both need.
His mouth is on her shoulder as her name falls from his lips like a prayer.
His eyes are glued to her face as she comes while the rest of her falls apart.
They collapse into a heap on the bed, shaking limbs and pounding hearts, exhaustion creeping into their bones.
Outside, the world may carry on, but everything now stands still inside their room. It's the exact quiet they need amongst the chaos of their lives.
It's because of that, the peace they find within each other, that they can finally close their eyes and sleep.
——-TLK——-
Edward can count on one hand the times he has stayed away from work. Even thinking back to his childhood, when he was forced to work at an earlier age than planned, he always showed up where and when he was expected.
There is not a chance in hell he plans on leaving Isabella's side today.
Even if their night together had been different, he knows today will come with the heaviness of it all — James, Victoria, and Marcus' role in everything — and he wants to be there for her to help make sense of it.
They wake up sometime mid-morning, and Edward enlists Sam Uley to assist Emmett behind the bar, though the chances of him needing the help are minimal. What it does, however, is allow Edward to revel in his quiet time with Isabella as they lie in bed on rumpled sheets, their voices low as life shifts into focus once again.
"Victoria doesn't have the same last name as you," Isabella murmurs as she rests her head against Edward's chest. "Why?"
Edward shrugs and brings his cigarette to his mouth, exhaling the smoke over and above her head. "Just another attempt at distancing herself from me," he says. "Despite what she has told you, it doesn't need to be a secret that she's my sister. She just chooses it to be that way."
"Why is she so angry with you?"
"I promised I'd stay with her," he sighs after a long pause. "And I couldn't keep that promise when I went to war. I had no choice, but she was too young to understand it. Too young to understand how the world worked outside her own concerns. I was twenty years old when our mother died, so I had already been working a decade at that point just to help keep a roof over our heads. Victoria was ten. Our father had already disappeared, so it was up to me to keep us alive."
"That must have been incredibly difficult for you," Isabella offers, her fingers tracing lines down the plane of his chest. "Losing your mother and having the pressure to raise Victoria as young as you had been."
"It was, but it also wasn't. You'd be surprised how many jobs I was able to do because other people didn't want them. When it came to dirty work here in the city, I was your man." Edward's eyes glaze over as he thinks about that time in his life. "Losing Mother was a challenge, yes. But sometimes, it felt like she had left us long before she died."
They let his words settle for a few moments before he continues. "Things were okay for us for some time. I had found steady work at a pub in town, and while it wasn't much, it was enough. That was how we met Rosie. Eventually, I had enough for us to share a room at her place."
"Her place has been around for that long?" Isabella asks.
"It's been in her family for generations," Edward nods, reaching over to the ashtray to discard the last of his smoke. He snuffs it quickly before wrapping an arm around her again, pulling her closer. "Hard to give up, even when men like Marcus feel they have a stake to claim."
"So she gets to keep the place as long as Marcus gets to control some aspect of it," Isabella says in understanding as more pieces of the puzzle come together.
"It's her story to tell, but yes. She keeps the building in her family name as long as Marcus' business has access to it."
He can feel the frustration growing inside her. "Why is it like this? Why does Marcus expect to get what he wants?"
"He's a Volturi," he says simply. "A strong family name can carry you a long way around here."
"How come he's the only one I've heard of? I know he has his men and his pub, but I haven't heard of any Volturis other than him."
"War wiped them out," Edward says. "Drove the rest of them out of the city. All but two, but he didn't stay long after returning home from France."
"Marcus and..?"
"Aro, his cousin."
"Did you know him, as well?"
"Briefly," Edward says. He closes his eyes, resting his head against the pillow with his head tilted towards the light from the window. "I saved his life in France, and he gave me the pub as his show of gratitude."
Isabella lifts her head off his chest, turning her body around, so she faces him. She crosses her legs as she gives him a look of disbelief. "He gave you a pub? Just like that?"
"Not exactly," Edward replies, his hands casually ghosting the visible skin of her legs. His eyes trail down the parts of her he can see. "He knew me from around here. Saw me working a few pubs around the city, so he knew I was familiar with it all and knew it was a dream of mine to have one of my own. So when it came down to it, he gave me the shittiest pub in town and left the fixing up to me."
"Were the two of you close?" Isabella asks, closing her eyes at the calming feel of his hands on her.
"As close as we could be. War has a funny way of putting things into perspective."
"So I've heard," she agrees and settles back next to him on the pillows. "How old were you when you were drafted?"
"Twenty-four," he says quietly, his eyes landing on hers beneath the light through the window of the afternoon gloom of Port Angeles. "I left Victoria with Rosie when she was fourteen."
Isabella nods her head slowly, her hand reaching for his. Their fingers intertwine seamlessly. "And she hasn't forgiven you since."
"It's herself she hasn't forgiven," Edward says. "She knows it, too. She's just too stubborn to move past her own shortcomings."
"You had no other option but to leave. You didn't know what path Victoria would follow."
"I didn't leave her much choice," he replies with a shake of his head. "It broke Rosie's heart to watch Victoria fall apart so quickly."
"It's not your fault," Isabella reminds him.
He nods but remembers the letters Rosalie would write him while he was away. Who else was he to blame but himself? Even though he has forgiven himself for leaving her, the decision still haunts him and leaves him with a strong taste of guilt. "It still hurts to see what has become of her life." He turns to his side, propping his head up with his elbow. "But it comforts me to know your brother had made her see a different side of life."
The reminder of her brother and his role in their lives makes her inhale sharply, but the pain doesn't linger. If anything, it makes her appreciate him even more. In a way, his life and tragic death are what brought her and Edward together in the first place. Instead of wallowing, she smiles gently and tangles her legs around his beneath the sheet. "It sounds like they were perfect for each other."
At first, Edward says nothing, dropping his lips to her shoulder as she coils around him. He thinks of her words about James and Victoria and feels it for himself when her fingers make their way into his hair. He is rendered speechless once more. "Hmm."
Words may evade him now, as he loses himself in her all over again, but perfection between two people is something he now understands completely.
He understands it even more the following day when he walks Isabella back to Rosalie's, the thought of spending a night without her next to him almost unbearable. As much as they had wanted to stay in the quiet, peaceful world they had created, their responsibilities could not be put off any longer. Edward needed to meet with Emmett at the pub before it opened, and from the looks of it, Isabella would be starting the morning off with a list of her own: beginning with a conversation with Victoria.
"I'll be fine," Isabella insists as Edward pauses below the steps. Victoria had turned inside at the sight of them. "We'll be fine."
Despite Isabella's attempt, worry for both the women he cares profoundly for are etched deeply into his features. He nods, somewhat convinced at what she said but not entirely. "I'll be here to walk you to the pub at three."
She smiles when he nods slowly in her direction, the look on his face making her feel alive and special. Loved. When he turns away and walks down the street, Isabella sighs and heads inside once he has disappeared. She heads straight for the kitchen, knowing she'll find Victoria there at this hour of the morning. Even though it has only been two nights since she was here last, she feels like a different person as she walks the small hallway before entering the kitchen. There, at the table, sits Victoria with a cup of warm tea in her hands. She stares out the window silently, the curls of her bright bronze hair pulling in several directions at the top of her head.
Sighing, Isabella opens the cabinet and grabs a cup for herself, walking to the stove to pour the hot water from the kettle. Once finished, she blows on it softly before heading towards the backyard.
"Come with me, Victoria," Isabella calls over her shoulder, hoping the long-lost girl will follow her outside.
Settling herself in the backyard beneath the gray skies with her warm tea, Isabella's heart squeezes once more when she hears footsteps behind her.
Somehow, she knew she would follow.
Oddly enough, this scene with E and B talking quietly in bed was the first image that popped in my head when I was first starting to envision this all in my mind. There will be more of these, but I'm happy with the way it turned out in real time. Hope you enjoyed it too!
See you soon!