Twelve Years Ago
"My dad is going to kill you if I'm not home soon," I giggle as Edward kisses my jaw in the front seat of his SUV. "I have to study."
"You can take a night off. It's Thanksgiving break, after all, and I leave in two days to go back to New Hampshire."
"Did you really have to go to an Ivy League school all the way across the country?"
He places his hand against my cheek. "I'll be back in two years, and then we'll never be apart again."
"If I get into Dartmouth, and if you get into the medical school."
"You will, and I will, and it'll be perfect."
"Then I really should be studying," I tease.
"You're brilliant, Bella."
"Not as brilliant as you."
He scoffs. "I don't believe that. Do you know how much I love you?"
"A little less than how much I love you."
He smiles. "That's not possible. Let's stay out tonight and deal with the consequences tomorrow."
"I'm sixteen, and you're nineteen. I'll get grounded, and my dad might shoot you."
"He likes me too much to shoot me." He smirks. "Call him and say you're staying at Angela's."
"He won't believe me—not with you home."
He caresses my cheek. "I just want to spend as much time with you as I can."
I think about it for a moment. Dad will be pissed, I'll probably get grounded, and Edward may be shot. But . . . it's worth the risk.
"Okay. Where are we going to go?"
He grins, starting up the SUV. "I brought some camping gear. We'll sleep under the stars."
I laugh, rolling my eyes. "You planned this."
"I also stole a bottle of vodka from my dad's office." He wiggles his eyebrows.
"You're corrupting my innocence. Bad, bad boy."
"I corrupted your innocence long ago, baby."
He's right there.
He drives us into the woods and then we walk the rest of the way to our meadow. He sets up camp quickly as I pull on his coat and look up at the stars. Once he gets a fire going, he passes me a red solo cup of vodka and taps his against mine.
"To the time we have left together," he says.
"To our forever."
I hate the taste of vodka, so I chug it as fast as I can. It's not long before my cheeks and ears feel hot and I shed his coat. We talk about our future. In two years, I graduate, and he'll be a senior at Dartmouth. He'll come get me, and we'll get a little place together. He's going to be a doctor, and I'll study history. Someday, after we both graduate, we'll start our family. It'll be blissful.
It'll be everything I've dreamed of.
"More?" he asks, holding up the bottle.
I shake my head. "No. I want something else." I move over and straddle his hips, kissing him deeply as I hold his face in my hands. He's trying to grow a beard, and the stubble tickles.
"Is it too cold out here for you?"
I shake my head. We're right by the fire, and the liquor coursing through my veins keeps me warm. I pull off my shirt, and his hands explore my body, starting at my hips and moving up. His hands go behind my back, and he fumbles for a moment with my bra. I pull off his shirt and do some exploring of my own. He's firm and strong, but he lets me push him onto his back. Soon enough, the rest of our clothes are tossed to the side, and he slips into me, making me moan so loud it echoes.
My fingers dig into his pecs as I rock my body on top of him. He thrusts his hips and makes me scream. It feels so fucking amazing to be wrapped around him, and my mind goes back to our first time.
He wanted to wait. I was only fifteen, and he was eighteen. It was taboo. I was underage. Everyone saw me as a child, but not him. If we were in our twenties, no one would have batted an eye at a three-year age difference.
Eventually I wore him down, and it happened one night when my dad was out of town just before he graduated. He was so careful with me—so afraid to hurt me. I wanted it all, though. He called me his temptress. And while it did hurt at the time, all I can remember now is how beautiful and safe he made me feel. He held my cheek in his hand and gazed into my eyes as we connected, searching for any hint that I wanted to stop.
He still does that. He's still gentle with me, caring and sweet.
He lifts up, holding my back as he flips us over. His hand runs through my hair as I bite my lip to stay quiet.
"You're so beautiful," he groans. "My beautiful Bella."
"Kiss me."
Our tongues entwine as pleasure courses through me. My legs lock around his waist, and my fingertips grasp his hair as I beg for more. He thrusts deep into me and stalls, letting out a long moan. I hold him to me, not wanting to lose the feeling of being connected to him in the most intimate way. Slowly, he sits up as we pant, and I just smile up at him.
He's the love of my life.
Waiting for him will be worth it.
Don't own Twilight.
Thanks to my beta Fran and prereaders, May, Mary, Sarah, and Christina.