Summary: When Bella's parents decide to go on a cruise for Christmas, her best friend Rose offers for her to stay at their cabin in Idaho for the holiday. It's a beautiful plan until her colleague shows up. Short story. AH, BPOV, olderward, lemon(s)
...
Hiding (the Christmas Criminal)
by Anton M.
5: Cloud Architect
…
Once again, the surreal howling of wind woke me up. The outside world was blue except for the snow softening the angles of the windowpanes as snowflakes slid and stopped on the edges of glass.
Still wrapped in Edward's arms, I cursed myself for the urge to pee. Paying attention to the slightest possible change in his expression, I slid out of his arms, emptying my blanket burrito and leaving Edward to lie on his side. Had he already been in pajama pants when we'd started watching Die Hard? I couldn't remember, but he presented a vulnerable, arresting image.
Having tiptoed to the bathroom and back again, more because of the cold floors than any sounds the floorboards might've made, I shivered. As Edward's weather app had predicted, the clear sky had been replaced by a snowstorm, and as a result, the cabin felt colder than usual. Reaching for slivers of fatwood, I crouched next to the fireplace, but I froze. If I lit a fire, I couldn't have plausible deniability when I returned to Edward's warm embrace. My finger had automatically curled inside the wire ring that controlled the chimney damper (to at least keep the warmth in for longer), but that, too, would've revealed that I'd been up. Not to mention, the clank might've awoken Edward.
Staring at his strong, hairy chest rising and falling with his even breaths, I debated on whether I should've just made a fire (and returned to the freezing sheets in my bedroom) or pretended to have been asleep all along, but the desire for immediate warmth won out.
Heart pounding in my chest, I slipped into my blanket shawarma only for Edward to surround me with his limbs and snuggle against me. He turned, falling face-first into my neck. My lips pressed against his bare shoulder.
His scent took my breath away.
I adjusted my lower body under the weight of the man when —
Oh.
Oh.
Beautiful, hard, throbbing morning wood pressed against my thigh.
I felt hot and cold and quite near delirious when he squeezed my side and thrust against me, his movements powerful and breathtaking even in his sleep. Seconds passed before he did it again. In total disbelief, I grinned and closed my eyes, but the combination of his steady breathing against my neck and the raw, near-imperceptible groan that accompanied his thrust made me ache with need. His weight and warmth filled me with a feverish infatuation I didn't dare explore.
I felt bad for putting him in this position but I was too turned on to move, and when his hand slipped against the armrest, something thumped against the carpet.
His movements halted.
Eager to avoid the inevitable awkwardness, I pretended to sleep. Slowly, Edward lifted his head and turned on his side. I couldn't even hear his breathing as he lay entirely motionless for nearly a minute.
I would've given anything to see his expression or hear his thoughts.
He tucked the loose side of my blanket under me. So gently I almost couldn't feel it, his fingers trailed a line from my hand to my shoulder, reassuring, comforting, positively electrifying. He lifted a single tendril from my face, and I felt his breath on my cheek.
My heart soared.
It took everything in me to keep breathing normally, as if I was asleep and not in the arms of the most gloriously attractive, tender man whose mere touch set me aflame.
The couch dipped before his weight lifted, and I felt Edward lean over the armrest, probably to gather his fallen phone. His footsteps led him to the bathroom. When he returned, he opened the chimney damper, made a fire, and, most remarkably, took a book from his bed and returned to the couch. He pointed a table lamp away from my face before switching it on. Gently, he cradled my head to scoot his arm back under my pillow. Hips carefully angled away from me, he waited for a few seconds before he pulled my upper body against his and held his book up in the air in his left hand.
The beads of his reading glasses made a small sound as the chain slid behind his head. I was so in awe of his actions I barely dared to breathe, but my arms were twisted uncomfortably, one underneath me and the other stuck in my blanket, and I had no choice but to move.
Heart pounding at my subterfuge, I released a heavy, fake-asleep breath as I turned toward his body, sliding my arm over his stomach and resting my cheek between his shoulder and chest.
Edward stilled.
Giddy with his proximity but scared that I'd gone too far, I enjoyed his warm, hairy torso under my skin as I kept up my steady breathing. Edward pressed his nose against my hair, squeezed me tight, and returned to reading.
…
The smell of fried egg or toast woke me up. Alone on the couch, I sat up and found Edward humming in the kitchen. Wind whistled against windows that showed a white world of blizzard outside, and I didn't mean to alert Edward of having woken up but I sneezed.
"Gesundheit." Holding a wooden turner in his hand, Edward walked up to me. "We fell asleep on the couch. I would've carried you to your bed but you might've frozen to death." Eyes full of warmth, he paused. "Do you like Monte Cristo?"
"The Count?" Yawning, I stood up and folded the blankets. "Love him. Both the book and the movie, believe it or not. Why?"
Edward's eyes glinted with amusement. "That's good. We can watch that next. But—I was actually referring to the sandwich. Ham-and-cheese sandwich with mustard and mayonnaise, fried in egg. How's that?"
Overwhelmed by his care, I admired the cute picture he made in his graphic T-shirt and sweatpants before I took hold of his neck and pulled his head down to kiss his clean-shaven cheek.
"Have my babies."
His eyes snapped on mine, his mouth open, a simmering disbelief mixed with some unreadable emotion on his face. I jogged to the bathroom, shut the door behind me, and facepalmed, heart beating out of my chest.
Not the way to win a man, ugh.
I hoped he understood I was trying to express my love for his food with my banter rather than… ask for his babies.
But after I'd brushed my teeth and had a short shower (too pent up not to relieve my frustration), I returned to Edward behaving completely normally, even if his gaze did make me feel more alight than ever.
I set a tea towel on the carpet for our food before we sat on the floor, warmed our toes by the fire, rested our backs against the couch and bit into Edward's delicious Monte Cristo. Edward was typing emails on his work laptop with three fingers while I hovered over my phone on the floor, messaging my cousins when Edward glanced at my screen and stopped typing.
"I'm sorry, but… did you just receive a photo of a cloud?"
I grinned. "Oh, you didn't know? I'm a cloud architect."
Puzzled, Edward tilted his head.
"My cousin's six-year-old daughter Sue thinks that… because architects build houses, cloud architects build clouds. So whenever she sees a cool cloud, she thanks me for it. Sometimes, she makes me settle arguments when they can't decide if a cloud looks more like Aladdin on a carpet or a bunny hopping out of grass."
Edward assessed me with his soft gaze. "That's the most adorable thing I've ever heard."
"I know, right? My cousin and his husband are forbidden from telling her what cloud architects actually do, and I've learned all the Latin names for all the clouds and which weather brings them about just so I can answer her questions when we see each other. I need expert-level knowledge to help me along. It's a slippery slope, though, because when it rains for more than three days, Sue demands to know if Auntie Bella is mad at someone. Once, she made them order me flowers to make the rain stop."
"And did it?"
"Lucky for me, the forecast had predicted it would stop anyway, but for Sue, it was only further proof of my cloud-prowess. I am the Cloud God."
Grinning, Edward cast a glance at the blizzard outside.
"I must've made you terribly angry, then, for this turn of events."
I laughed, bewitched by his gaze. "On the contrary, I only summon the blizzard when I'm delightfully content."
He nudged my shoulder, and he may as well have sewn a new jacket for my heart with the way his gaze heated it. Trying desperately not to beam, I clinked my coffee mug against his and let him get back to finishing his work emails as I messaged my relatives.
Done with our tasks, we spent a cozy morning sitting, talking and laughing in front of the fireplace. It was incredibly lovely, getting to spend casual time with bright-eyed Edward who hummed along to Frank Sinatra and laughed at my jokes while the blizzard wailed outside.
Since the weather had banished me from skating, Edward took mercy on me and allowed me to whisk eggs for the onion pie he was making for lunch. I usually cleaned up the counters and did the dishes after he was done, but since there was time for that, I emptied Rose's storage box onto the carpet and began to go through her clothes. Leaning against the counter as he waited for his onions to sauté, Edward observed me.
"Why does Rose need her old clothes, anyway?"
"She was bigger in high school and discovered how inhumanely expensive—" Eyes wide with horror, I slapped a hand on my mouth. "Aw shit. I'm not supposed to—pretend I didn't say anything."
Edward's eyes brightened, but because he said nothing—he was not quite as chatty as he got when alcohol was involved—I dropped Rose's shirt and jogged up to him.
"Please don't tell them I told you," I rushed to continue, looking up at his soft eyes. "They're so excited and they wanted to have this little party for telling everyone but it's still a few weeks away and I never should've said anything and please please please don't tell them I slipped. I'm way too comfortable around you. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."
Smiling with his eyes, Edward tucked a few tendrils of my hair behind my ear, setting my heart aflame. "And what did you say, exactly? I didn't hear anything."
I crushed him into a hug, burying my face in his chest and delighting in his strength as he hugged me back.
"Thank you."
"You literally didn't say anything, though," Edward kissed the top of my head before releasing me. "What I conclude from your words is another matter."
"But you won't tell them you knew?"
"Nothing to tell." He turned and lifted the pan to move the onions around, but his longing gaze was stuck on a spot on the counter. His tone was wistful. "They must be over the moon."
"They are," I confirmed, seeing no reason to lie.
"Good." Edward's brief smile didn't reach his eyes, and his body seemed to pull inwards in a contemplative, wistful slouch. I took hold of his elbow, a question about his reaction on the tip of my tongue. I knew he didn't have children, but had he lost any? Had wanted them? Did he still?
But was it my place to ask him about a potentially delicate past? We got along brilliantly, but he probably wanted to discuss this with his lady-love, not his colleague.
With a smile to hide the ache in my heart, I let go of Edward's elbow.
"Hey, the woman you told me about… do I know her?"
Edward's movements stilled. Staring at his pan, he pressed his chin against his chest and stifled his smile.
"You do."
My heart fell through the floor. Goddamn it, knowing her was infinitely worse. I racked my brain for a stunning, smart mutual acquaintance, someone whose work even Edward wouldn't understand, and my chest felt full of needles when I realized that Alice, a petite slip of a woman and easily the most beautiful software engineer I'd met, fit his description to a T. Whenever I struggled with an aspect of a software solution, I picked her brain, and her family was religious enough for her not to invite him to spend Christmas in Montreal if they'd only been going out for a few months.
Ugh, and not only did she speak French, she'd left Edward's office unusually flustered a few months ago, enough for me to have noticed and remembered the occasion. Had they had a spontaneous, sexy rendezvous in his office? Aw, shit.
I felt ill.
"Does she work for our company?" I asked, a bit breathless.
"She does."
The needles in my chest would've poked through my heart at any further confirmation that Alice had stolen his heart, and I couldn't even form a coherent response to his reveal other than to smile as widely as I could before I escaped to sort Rose's clothes.
My jealousy made no sense. Even if our company had rules about dating (and I wasn't sure it did), Edward hadn't broken any promises. I'd just gotten caught up in my attraction.
Rose's current preferences made sorting her stuff an easy enough task. I absent-mindedly folded the decent half of her old clothes into a plastic bag when I had a question for Edward.
But, having walked up to the kitchen corner, I stood by the old wooden pillar, struggling to remember my reason for approaching him. Trying to conceal how hurt I felt by my previous discovery, I smiled at his ridiculous habit of leaving random cabinet doors open.
"Did you need something?"
Pulling hair out of my mouth, I opened and closed it, drawing a blank.
"I… did. I've no clue what I wanted."
Edward's grin faded a moment later.
"Don't move," he said, seriously, rushing to dry his hands in a tea towel as I stood still, confused and a bit worried.
"Did I walk into a spiderweb?" I squeaked, grimacing and closing my eyes. "Please remove the spider or I swear I'll run into the blizzard."
He didn't reply. I shivered when his hand pressed flat against my back. His breath blew over my forehead before his large palm slid behind my neck, his buddy-taped fingers sticky against my skin. Amazed, I opened my eyes.
"Bella."
His head leaned forward before, incredibly, his palm squeezed my neck and his soft, beautiful lips pressed against mine. Gasping, melting, I squeezed his sides, trying to keep upright as a breath-taking thrill of affection shot through me. He tasted like the onions he'd been sautéing, but so did I, and I felt alight and amazed as his lips moved against mine, once, twice—a chaste kiss by any measure, except the measure of my liquid knees.
"Mistletoe," Edward whispered, his rough voice rumbling through my chest. His eyes were brimming with a questioning, unfamiliar emotion that took my breath away.
"This cabin doesn't have—"
But, of course, like a boulder growing moss in a forest, once anyone put up Christmas lights or mistletoe in this cabin, they became a part of the house, and I'd been standing directly under an old tuft of mistletoe.
Why else would he have kissed me?
With an ache running through my veins, I pulled away, wishing in vain that he would've kissed me because he wanted to, not because he was doing the kind, polite thing when he caught me under a mistletoe.
"Thank you," I said, stupidly, not daring to meet his eyes, but I had to stay still when his adhesive-covered fingers got caught in my hair. Slowly and carefully, Edward removed his fingers without hurting my scalp. He gripped my upper arm when he was done.
"Bella—"
"Thank you," I repeated, shooting him a smile before I fled the crime scene for fear that he might've apologized for his kiss.
…
The next day, Christmas Eve, brought a flurry of calls. After Edward was done talking to his sisters, parents and friends, he began preparing chicken stuffing for Christmas Day, and I was hoping to be done soon to help him. I'd spoken to all of my closest relatives in Ketchum (without my camera on) when my dad texted me about having sturdier WiFi near Martinique. I accepted their video call. Not only were my parents the soul of discretion, they'd almost certainly chosen a cruise that would take place during Christmas to avoid our meddling relatives.
So while they might've ratted me out for staying in Rose's cabin in Idaho for Christmas, I had the same blackmail material on them. (Because no, they weren't 'so very sorry' for missing out on Christmas dinner, avoiding it was the entire purpose.)
My mom and dad, although they obviously loved each other, spent their life bickering about stuff that didn't matter, but they'd both been surprisingly supportive after my break-up with Seth. They hadn't made a single comment about my obligation to give them grand-babies, which was more than I could say about our relatives.
I didn't mention Edward because I didn't want to confuse them with the presence of a handsome colleague, but my bluetooth headphones had other plans. After my headphones died in the middle of my call, I turned down the volume on my laptop as much as I could but I was, apparently, too successful, because next thing I knew, Edward popped his head into the bedroom and asked, "Would you mind giving me a hand if you're all done?"
Voice close to a breathless whimper, mom gaped. "Who is that?!"
Edward's eyes widened while I grinned into my palm.
"Nobody."
"Oh my God, Charlie! Bella is seeing someone! I heard him, I heard him! Oh my God! Show me! Introduce us, honey! Who is he?"
Still smiling like an idiot into my palm, I locked eyes with an embarrassed, sheepish Edward, hovering in the doorway in his T-shirt and sweatpants wearing that ridiculous little apron that looked adorable on him.
"Mom…"
"Who is he? Honey, I thought, I thought— Oh my God, you're spending Christmas with a boyfriend. This is wonderful news! I thought you'd take much longer to get over Seth. Not that I'm blaming you—"
"He's not my—"
The bed dipped as Edward sat down beside me. His hair was in a mild, sexy disarray. I felt my stomach turn into goo when he wrapped his muscled arm around my shoulders, pulled me close to him, and said, "Hi. I'm Edward."
The giggle that left my mom's mouth would've made any four-year-old proud, not that I could blame her. Edward cut a fit, dashing figure even with an apron tied around his neck.
"Hi!" mom replied, way too chirpy. "Hi! Nice to meet you! I'm Bella's mom Renée." She pulled dad into the frame. "And this is her dad Charlie."
Charming as ever, Edward nodded. "It's a pleasure."
Dad leaned closer to mom, squinting at the screen. "Isn't he too old for her?"
"He can hear you," mom scolded, prepared to apologize while I died a thousand deaths.
Edward, though, smooth as butter, smiled. "I'm forty five. If my age no obstacle to your daughter, it's no obstacle to me."
I gaped. Mom reminded dad that he'd never voiced any objections to Rose dating Emmett with a similar age gap, to which dad grumbled that Rose wasn't their kid. He continued to grill Edward with a pile of questions, but at least Edward's occupation seemed to calm dad somewhat. Edward spoke with a diplomatic sweetness I was familiar with, but both men ignored my attempts to clarify that the man was not, in fact, mine. A fact I was painfully aware of.
When we cut the call, I closed the lid of my laptop and looked up at Edward's tender eyes and clean-shaven cheeks.
"They would've never believed you," he said without prompting. "Tanya heard you talking in the other room and she's all but ready to fly to the US for our wedding."
The words 'our wedding' made my insides repeat mom's giggly performance, but I was still confused by his reasoning, so I stood up and stretched. "What'd you need help with?"
…
Heart pounding violently in my chest, I slipped into my satin blue dress: floor-length and backless with a slit that came up to a height that was borderline indecent. I'd done my make-up just so, covered my shoulders with my hair, and reminded myself not to chew on the ends.
When I had initially planned to stay in the cabin, I'd wanted to celebrate Christmas by dolling myself up. All alone, my plan had been to wear my prettiest dress and float around the old cabin feeling like a thousand bucks while eating chips and shamelessly consuming whatever garbage streaming services tossed my way.
Edward's presence threw a wrench in those plans. Given his lady-love, I was scared of making him feel like I was trying to arrange a date or, worse, seduce him, so I'd first abandoned my plans, and then chickened out on telling him about them no less than half a dozen times. But the glass of wine we'd had with dinner loosened Edward's tongue enough to make me spit out my plan. I had, after all, wanted to do this without him. Feeling embarrassed, I made light of my idea and assured him that I wouldn't hold it against him if he was uncomfortable with it. In fact, I ended up apologizing for even voicing my plan so vehemently that I almost missed his quiet but clear, "I'm afraid I don't have anything to fit the occasion."
His response confused and exhilarated me, so here I was, minutes before our agreed-upon Christmas dinner, fretting over my dress.
Having opened my door, I leaned against the doorframe, taking in the scent of delicious food, the crackling fire, the melody of Leigh Nash's cover of Pretty Paper filling the air and the everlasting blizzard outside, but most of all, the striking man leaning against the kitchen counter, wearing glasses and reading his book under the counter lights. In jeans and a white T-shirt half-covered by the sweater on his shoulders, he looked every inch my tall, dashing colleague who set my heart on fire with just a glance.
Sensing my gaze, Edward looked up. His lips parted. His eyes never left mine as he lifted his glasses from around his neck and set them on top of his book. The silky dress slid against my bare legs as I walked closer, and I felt abuzz with warmth when Edward met me halfway, his eyes alight with an indecipherable energy.
Edward raised his right hand, palm up, and I'd barely put my hand in his before he lifted my arm and twirled me around in front of the fireplace. He pulled me straight into his arms, and his whisper was a half-kiss against my cheek, "Words don't do you justice."
"Thank you," I replied, buzzing with nerves, kissing his cheek before I pulled back. His tender eyes full of unabashed admiration didn't help the snowstorm in my stomach, but I persevered. Edward had combed his hair on the side, exactly how he wore it to work, and it warmed me to see him make an effort for our Christmas dinner. "Likewise."
He chuckled and shook his head. "I feel rather homeless next to you, but I really had no reason to bring anything remotely civilized to the cabin."
I grinned. My heart nearly leaped out of my chest when Edward took my hand in his and walked me to the impeccably set table (save for the absence of any specialized cutlery). He pulled out my chair for me. Noticing the state of the cabinet doors, I laughed and squeezed myself through the gap between the chair and the table to go close them instead.
"It's like living with a raccoon," I said when I returned to him.
Edward's eyes sparkled. "Careful, your raccoon prepares the food around here."
"Oh, I'll take the cooking raccoon over a non-cooking human any day."
Three mismatched candles flickered as he sat across from me, his smile sheepish. "Technically, you prepared as much of this as I did, so my pride might be misplaced."
"Considering that you've fed me for a week, I think any amount of boasting is entirely warranted."
Both ravenous from a day of not eating, we dug into our divine roasted chicken with vegetables. It was a night of dreams, having dinner in a cabin with a man whose eyes reflected the candles on the table, who forgot himself staring at me as he laughed, who straightened himself after dinner in a way that pressed his legs gently against mine. Certain that he'd pull away, I paused, but when his eyes told me the move was entirely intentional, the sparkling wine in my system made me slide my shin across the side of his leg. His eyes smoldered.
The air was thick with attraction.
Resting his chin against his palm, Edward leaned forward without removing his leg from mine. "So, you're telling me that your parents pressured you into becoming a pianist instead of out of it? I'm sorry but that doesn't make any sense even with a successful composer for a mother."
"Moderately successful," I corrected. "No shade, but ABC Family and Hallmark are hardly the height of success. And 'pressure' is a strong word… it's more that they raised me to be a musician at heart. I was not allowed any extra-curriculars that involved balls or danger. No baseball, basketball, soccer—none. Couldn't endanger my precious fingers."
Edward lifted his right hand, moving the three fingers that he could curl. "None of this, then?"
Feeling awful, I took hold of his wrist. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"
"I know," Edward replied, softly, sliding my hand into his, wrapping his three fingers around my palm. He brushed his thumb against my skin. "How intense was it, then? How much did you practice? Did you hate it all? Rose mentioned you could've gone professional."
"She's exaggerating," I whispered, distracted by his touch. "And what does 'professional' mean in the context of musicians, anyway? Are you a professional if you can get a million hits on YouTube but pay your bills by bartending? What if you can get evening gigs at restaurants but have to clean offices at night? Being a professional musician is a bit like being a professional dancer. If professional means getting paid to do it, neither applies to many people. Certainly my mom would've never been considered a professional when her first compositions got used in tiny indie films. She was a salesclerk by day at the time."
"I can respect that," Edward replied. "But how intense was it, your practices?"
"I practiced between two and three hours a day for fifteen years, until I moved away. Longer on the weekends."
Edward whistled. "Do you miss it?"
I shrugged. "Yes and no. I do feel like I have a special relationship with the piano. I love piano music, and I love to play to remind myself how good I could be."
"But…?"
"But—" I smiled, squeezing his fingers. "I'm afraid it's not quite the typical cozy Hallmark story of me wanting to quit my well-paying day job to scrub toilets at night in a small town and have a shot at making it big on YouTube. I like that it's a little side thing I can always pick up again, but my parents got over the fact that I chose computer science, and I like having a solid career. It certainly helped that I could finally gift them a cruise with my Big Apple salary."
"I'd love to hear you play again." Edward downed the last of his sparkling wine before he stood up and held out his arm. "A dance, m'lady?"
Breathless in his gaze, I took his hand and stood up. Edward added a few logs in the fire, straightened, and pulled me flush against his body. Eyes simmering with tipsy warmth, Edward caressed my bare back with his right hand and brushed his fingers through my hair. His gaze focused on my lips. Wishing desperately to repeat our kiss, I pressed myself closer, but I froze.
In a haze of tipsiness, I'd tossed my guilt aside, but it returned full force when I felt liquid in his arms.
"We shouldn't," I whispered, my chest aching as I stepped back. I wanted nothing more than to be consumed by the attraction between us, but one of us needed to keep a clear head. "This is not appropriate. I'm sorry."
Hurt flickered in Edward's eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair, messing up his hairdo. "I didn't realize that's how you felt," he said, his voice off, his words almost too quiet for me to hear. Forcing a deep breath, he shut his eyes. "I'm sorry if I stepped over the line a few days ago."
I shook my head, more hurt by his apology than the reason behind it. "It's not fair to the woman you're seeing. Even if you only see me as a friend—" I gave Edward a small, sad smile, shrugging to dismiss my feelings. "I know I wouldn't feel comfortable with my boyfriend in such an intimate setting—"
"Bella," Edward mouthed more than whispered, eyes widening. Stepping into my personal space, he gripped my hair, touched his forehead against mine and brushed a tingling, butterfly-soft kiss against my lips. His scent melted me.
Heart bursting with hope, I squeezed his sides and glanced at the ceiling. "Mistletoe?"
Edward got the cutest crinkles around his eyes as he laughed. Gripping the back of my neck, Edward stared at me with such longing my heart was in danger of giving out. Slowly, he lowered his lips against mine again. "So much mistletoe," he replied against my mouth, eyes sparkling. With urgency and longing, his lips brushed against mine, exploring, molding and consuming me as he squeezed me against him. He trailed a line of toe-curling kisses to my ear. "Mistletoe everywhere," he whispered with a smile in his voice.
Amazed, I pulled my face back to search his eyes. "I don't understand."
With mischief in his eyes, Edward lifted me into his arms. I squealed.
"No, Edward, you'll hurt your—"
"I'm fine," he cut me off, carrying me to the entrance of the bathroom. He switched on the light, wrapped his arms around me from behind, and nudged me inside. Grinning from disbelief, I obeyed. The mirror showed our glazed expressions more drunk on affection than wine.
"Bella," Edward began, crouching, wrapping his arms around my neck as he tipped his chin toward the mirror. His smile widened when our eyes met in the reflection. "Meet Bella, my lady-love."
"No!" I near-shouted, twirling around. Thrilled but confused, I poked his chest. "You said you didn't understand half of what I do! That's not true. It's how I knew the woman couldn't have been me."
Edward looked like nothing had ever taken him more energy than attempting to stifle his grin. "I hate to break it to you, Bella," he whispered, taking hold of the back of my neck. "But I have absolutely no clue what you do. None at all. You are, as it is, too smart for me."
"That's not true!"
"Of course, the fact that it took you an entire week to realize I'd never spend my Christmas with another woman—if, indeed, she wasn't you—does knock some points off—"
Beaming, I slapped his shoulder. Edward laughed, switched off the lights, pulled me into the kitchen corner and lifted me on top of the table, stepping closer as I parted my legs to fit him between them. In total disbelief, I searched his twinkling eyes, and my heart might as well have expanded through my ribcage at the knowledge that he meant me. He really, truly meant me.
Afloat with affection, I cupped his jaw, pulled him closer and kissed him. "You do realize we could've been having sex for a week," I whispered against his lips, sliding my fingers in his hair. "Better not waste—"
Edward's growl was low and sexy before he cut me off with a thorough, panty-dropping kiss. Refusing to remove my lips from his, I inhaled his breath as I wrapped my legs around him, and Edward looked just about ready to devour me as we stumbled onto his bed.
…