July 2011

When Edward went back upstairs, Isabella was still deeply asleep. Wrecked by horror and guilt, he sat next to her sleeping form. Gingerly, he caressed her face with the back of his hand. "I'm so sorry," he whispered against her forehead. "You don't deserve this."

Edward regretted ever asking his Dad for information. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Edward felt disgusted and even frightened. A fresh round of tears hit, burning his nostrils, and making his eyes sting. He now had the power to hurt her with, or shield her from, truth.

Isabella blinked sleepily. Slowly, she took his face in. Panicked, she spasmed in shock. It was her Moro reflex acting up, and Edward was filled with tenderness.

"Are you OK?" she asked softly, and there was only a faint trace of slurring in her words. He noticed anew the lilt of her voice sometimes. Each letter was carefully articulated, such that it sounded a little off. Her quotidian trembling was back to its usual tempo – like she was shuddering lightly.

"What do you mean, am I OK?" he scoffed, incredulous.

She cupped his cheek, stroking his cheek with her fingers, and that gesture was more comforting than anyone else's hug. "You've been crying," she murmured worriedly. "Is everything OK?"

"I promise I'm fine," Edward said sincerely, and that was entirely true. Edward was fine because they were together. She was his best friend and safe harbor. For as long as they were together, they would be fine. "I'll tell you about it someday, OK? Just not right now."

"That's kind of terrifying," she said, grinning ruefully. "But OK. I trust you."

Gently, he kissed her lips and then her forehead.

"One last dinner," she sighed sadly, "And then I have to leave."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" The fury his words might have conveyed vanished into thin air. He spoke in a small, hurt voice.

Her face crumpled with anxiety like she had grown overwhelmed, like a wave was cresting in front of her. "I – I think I'll… I'll ask my Dad to – I still need to – um. Well, he pays for my meds, and I um – You know, I take a whole pharmacy every morning. I think I – uh – like I think – I can't alienate him – "

"Bee, listen, love," Edward said, trying to sound firm, even though he was all but pleading. "Sweetheart, I came into half my trust fund when I turned 21." It wasn't very much – especially because he was determined to live off the interest without touching the principal. It was only four million. Edward would come into the remaining half of the trust fund when he turned twenty-five. It yielded 40 grand, on a good year.

"Edward, I can't," Bella said immediately like Edward had asked her to commit murder.

"Bee, for fuck's sake," he said, growing irritated. "Just think of it as a loan, OK? I'll loan you whatever you need, and then you can pay me back or whatever."

Naturally, he was lying through his teeth, figuring that it wouldn't be a problem because they would eventually get married.

"That's really kind," she said earnestly, her doe eyes huge. "I still – I mean. I probably shouldn't – It's preposterous - But it's not just – it's not just buying a ticket or buying my meds or – I mean…I have a baby brother. If I had an older sister, I would want her to be there for me." She lit up a little at the mention of that baby brother, and it made Edward smile.

"What about your father?" Edward asked, darkening, a dangerous edge to his voice.

"Fuck my Dad," she muttered moodily.

"Amen to that."

"I can – uh – I can stay at a hotel," she said hesitantly, and Edward knew that would not fly. When other people paid, she went for the cheapest possible option. Isabella would end up at a Motel Six, and that made Edward's skin crawl. "I don't want to stay with either of my parents."

"Stay with me." It was a plea, and uttering it felt like holding out his heart, raw and bloodied, between them.

"I – " Her doe eyes swirled with emotion. "I love you. Of course I want to stay with you, but – "

"Then let me come with you," he said, and the pitch of his voice was strange, caught as it was between a command and a plea.

Brow wrinkling, she eyed him quizzically and hesitantly. "It's going to be a disaster."

"Let me take care of you," Edward whispered, a prayer against her cheekbone. It felt like self-care and self-preservation because he loved her more than anything in the world. "Please let me take care of you. Just – stay with me, just a bit longer, love. Just a bit longer, and then we can go together."

And she agreed.

The family had dinner together, and Isabella cheered up. They had absurdly elegant fish burgers to a soundtrack of Bella laughing out loud at his dad's terrible Dad Jokes.

"Why did the scarecrow win an award?" his Dad asked, looking absurdly self-pleased for a professor of oncology.

Because Isabella was fucking adorable, she responded with matching enthusiasm. She gasped at the question, looking genuinely thoughtful. She tilted her head pensively as she answered. "Because he scared away the competition?"

Grinning, Edward's father wagged his eyebrows. "Because he was outstanding in his field!"

Carlisle was using his joke voice – "Hi, hungry, I'm Dad" – for the first time in years.

The two people Edward loved most in the world were having fun together, and Edward finally felt it. Happiness. The feeling had eluded him for years, but at that moment, the feeling crashed into him powerfully and abruptly. His family was together: his dad, his grandpa, and Isabella. Finally, Edward felt joy.

Edward rolled his eyes, making his expression flat, even though he was happy.

Genuinely, Bella giggled, and it was a fucking beautiful sound.

"It's your turn," she said to Edward.

"I don't …Christ, sweetheart."

"Edward," she hissed. "Even your grandpa made a Dad joke."

While sifting through his memory – past a dozen fat jokes and sex jokes – Edward rubbed his forehead. Edward knew a fat joke would not land well, and he would ruin the evening. The first girlfriend Isabella ever had was morbidly obese. Claire - the first person with the sensitivity to know Isabella was fucking amazing.

"Christ, baby," Edward muttered. "I don't remember any."

"Fine. We'll circle back," Bella said grumpily, glowering.

Lovingly, she smiled her loveliest smile at Edward's father. Her eyes were sparkling.

There was a challenge in her expression. "What do you call a fish with no eyes?"

Brightly, Bella smirked playfully from ear to ear.

"Blind fish!" Edward's father cried out like they were playing Family Feud, and Edward rolled his eyes with embarrassment.

"That's too literal, Carlisle," Senator Masen barked disapprovingly. "A fish stick? Is it a fish stick?"

Smiling brightly, Bella shook her head. "Good guess, though."

The idea struck Edward. "I know what it is."

"You do?" Bella cried out excitedly, and Edward smiled back tenderly, like the lovestruck idiot he was.

He sighed, pushing back his irritation, because she was happy. "Fsh," he told her indulgently, his lips twitching with amusement.

There was an undignified chorus of "Ohs!" and "Dohs" from his dad and grandpa, and Bella lit up beautifully. Almost unthinkingly, she leaned forward and pecked him on the lips. Edward returned the kiss, and then kissed her nose.

Isabella was in an infinitely better mood after dinner. Guided mostly by his cock, Edward decided to try his luck by venturing into her bedroom.

"Hey, you," she greeted shyly, blushing. Freshly showered, she was wearing a light pajama blouse that left nothing to the imagination. Christ, her breasts were fucking perfect. Just looking at them made the blood rush straight to his cock.

And fuck if she wasn't beautiful. She really was the most beautiful woman he would ever be with. It wasn't that he was insane about her – and he was. It wasn't that he was deeply in love – and he was. It was that her face and her breasts were genuinely perfect. Honestly, he had seen dozens of tits. Hers were unrivalled. She had some natural cleavage, and they were perky and round. Her nipples were the same dusty pink as her mouth.

"Hi, you," Edward said softly, grinning lopsidedly, like an idiot. He locked the door behind him.

Edward took four long strides towards her bed and sat. He lifted her by the waist and pulled her onto his lap. She lifted her hair up by a spider clip, and Edward saw it as an invitation. Hungrily, he kissed the spot below the shell of her ear and stroked her neck with the back of his fingers.

"I missed you so fucking much," he murmured against her jaw.

She laughed. "Edward."

"It's true. I missed you so fucking much in the two hours we were apart."

Harder and deeper, she laughed.

"Shouldn't we wait to do this? We're going to be alone all of next week."

"Do you want to wait?" Edward said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

"Now that you bring it up," she said with mock thoughtfulness. "No, not really."

She reciprocated, kissing the underside of his jaw with fluttery touches. She reached his jaw and kissed him hard, prodding his mouth with her tongue.

"Thank the fucking lord," he groaned between kisses. Nimbly, he tugged at her pajama top. Weakly, she raised her arms, and he took it off quickly. His hands were gentle, and reverent as they revealed skin to the light. When she tugged at his shirt, he took it off in one quick motion and then stripped off his pants.

Isabella cut to the chase before he did. She pushed away, twisting her torso so that her lips were level with his nipples. As she closed her mouth over his left nipple, and Edward's cock twitched. With her tongue, she traced patterns around his nipple. With her hands, she stroked his arms. His chest. His back.

It felt so good he was afraid he was going to cum in his boxers. He was wanking a lot these days - he wanked at least once in the shower every single day, and it was never enough. He came in his boxers like a pubescent kid. It had happened three times, but she had only noticed once.

Edward had a goal. Achieving it would put him out of his misery.

Grudgingly, Edward pulled away from her touches and kneeled in front of her. At first, he was eye-level with her tits. It took all his self-control not to put his head between them. Instead, he lifted her waist and tugged her pajama pants down. She did not object, but her shoulders fell and her eyes drooped sadly.

Every time, her shyness broke Edward's heart. It made his heart squeeze with guilt, wondering if his cruelty and carelessness were to blame. So he was careful, and reverent. He fell to his knees in front of her to help her strip, hoping that she would see and feel his devotion. He infused every kiss to her body with the love that he felt, kissing the arches of her feet and her ankles with all the reverence he possessed.

Edward had never enjoyed it so much, but Christ, she was good. Edward thought it was bullshit, too, that good sex came from trust. Now he understood that it did. They were both safe when they were together, and Edward felt free. His body was hers, and Bella had explored every inch of it with rapt attention. Underneath her mouth, her gaze, her hands, he felt loved.

He swallowed thickly, cock pulsing, and shifted him off him.

Edward had a goal, and he wanted to fuck her with his fingers.

She wasn't ready for penetration, and while he would have waited forever, he did not want to be chaste unnecessarily.

"Can I touch you, sweetheart?" he asked hotly, voice thick with lust. He shifted over her, crawling, to put her head between her thighs. For the first time in his life, he was ignoring his cock pulsing desperately, twitching to be inside.

"God, yes." Her assent came as a throaty moan from the back of her throat, and Edward could see the slender line of her throat bulging with a gulp. With her hands, she fisted his hair and tugged. Edward liked it. Practiced, Edward lifted her by buttocks closer to his mouth. Edward liked eating her out – much more than he ever imagined he would.

Over the last few weeks, Edward had learned Isabella was extremely sensitive. He could tell, because he had memorized every little sound she ever made. Her breath hitched if he touched her clit directly with his fingers too soon.

When she finally came, she did it loudly. Edward's ego swelled.

He lifted his head, covered by a sheen of sweat.

"Bee, love, I'm going to try to – ah…" His throat closed with awkwardness, and he felt his neck heating. His request came out as a mumble that tumbled out with a twitch. "I'm going to – eh. I'm going to put my fingers inside you. Is that OK?"

She put him out of his misery. "It's OK. I trust you," she whispered, so low that Edward strained to hear.

He could feel his cock pulsating as his fingers looked for her entrance. Eagerly, he pushed in with one finger and –

Bella's breath hitched, and she cried out. It was a strangled moan. Underneath him, one of her legs spasmed out. Guilt-ridden, he looked up. He knew he had hurt her, and he was fucking terrified, but this – was it supposed to hurt so much? Was it supposed to hurt this fucking much if she was aroused?

He stopped, panicked, and froze. "Fuck, darling, did that – I'm so sorry," he crooned softly, pressing an achingly gentle kiss to her hip.

"Just a bit," she said stiffly, and it killed him to see her eyes had watered. Her voice sounded uneven again, like she was losing her grip on reality. Her statement sounded more like Jaws-tuh buh-it. "Keep going, though. I want you to keep going."

Sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled down his nose.

Unable to relax, he kissed the space above her pubic bone. Moving his finger inside her, imagining it was his cock – and sweet, holy fuck she felt so good – he looked for her G-spot. He knew exactly what he was looking for – a spongier, rougher, rugged patch of muscle tissue. Edward knew the second he found it, because she moaned.

It was the first time he ever did that with a woman. It was the first time he went through that much trouble to get someone ready for sex. When she finally came – contracting all around him, legs flailing, turning into a mess of whimpers – Edward came with her, spilling messily into his boxers.

Both his father and his grandfather gave Edward parting lectures. His grandfather scared the shit out of him, and his father offended him. As dinner drew to a close, his grandfather barked out his name in a way that made his balls want to tuck back into his body. "Edward," his namesake had said flatly, in a voice colder than a tundra. "A word, boy?"

In the cooling and windswept terrace, Edward had been subjected to an investigation. How long have you and Isabella been an item? Are you treating her with respect? I understand you're courting Isabella. I hope you're mature enough treat her with all the love and respect she deserves. I won't have you take advantage. Is that clear?

When the former Senator left the following morning, he and Isabella hugged. It was awkward and stiff on his end, and Isabella was so shocked at the gesture that she froze.

Edward's father gave them both a long lecture over breakfast, with his bags packed. "Kids, eh, a word before I leave," he said stiffly, setting his fork down. Compulsively, Carlisle cleared his throat like there was something lodged in his throat, and Edward rolled his eyes.

Studiously, Isabella nodded and folded both hands. Insolently, Edward rolled his eyes.

At this, Edward's father – the oncology professor – turned a light shade of pink. "Bella, I just want to make something clear one more time. You're not obliged to, eh, do anything, eh, as it were, eh. Anything at all. You're here as my guest, not Edward's."

For a split second, Edward worried his girlfriend would have a conniption. Scarlet and breathless, looking intently at the floral patterns on the dishes, Isabella nodded.

"Good. I also want to make it perfectly clear, that, should you need anything, I'm at your disposal, my darling. I'm available, eh, regardless of, eh, any – developments with my son. Edward isn't the only person willing or able to support you. Both of your parents are also available, and they love you dearly."

Isabella looked up with gratitude etched into her face, peeking at Edward's father through her eyelashes, eyes swirling with emotion. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, sweetheart."

"And Edward," Carlisle added roughly, in a cantankerous, threatening bark. "Edward, you're responsible for whatever happens under this roof. Up to and including…" At this, Carlisle turned light pink again and glared meaningfully. "You're responsible for – all safety in all areas. Is that clear, son?"

His father's twitchy embarrassment told Edward everything his father wouldn't – that Edward was responsible for keeping it covered. With a hint of insolence and an eye roll, Edward nodded.

His father glared and began to bark out instructions. "If there are thunderstorms, and there will be, you need to check all the windows are closed. You need to turn off the central air conditioning system before you leave for prolonged periods. The chef is still here for one more week, and… "

That week and that summer, Edward fell in love so deeply in love with Isabella that he was ruined for all others.

Throughout the last week in July, they were completely alone, and it was the happiest week of Edward's life. It wasn't different from any other week that summer. The only difference was that they could spend entire days naked in bed. To Edward's great misfortune, despite how beautiful she was, Isabella was shy. Personally, Edward would have spent the week with his balls flapping in the wind. For the sake of her modesty, he wore clothes.

Daily, Edward went for his morning run. He descended to the rocky beach and ran parallel to the coastline, glancing at the forest that stretched to his left and the ocean spilling blue to his right. When he returned, they had coffee and breakfast together on the terrace. Edward spent spare hours studying for the semester ahead, and Bella spent – inexplicably – hours digging through the books in the house. "I think this house would make a nice museum," she had suggested shyly to Edward's father, and Edward never forgot. Decades later, Edward would make that a reality for her.

For dinner on Tuesday, they ran off to an All-Day Breakfast diner. On Wednesday, Edward suggested a walk in the forest. The Cullen estate had several thousand acres of forest, mostly flat ground parallel coastline. At his suggestion, Isabella crumpled like a piece of wet paper, and Edward was as touched as he was annoyed. "Are you – Can we? - Won't it be too –?"

Edward knelt before her, took her hands, and looked her in the eye, firm and lethally serious. "Babe, it's fucking flat ground. Just come with me. Please. I think you'll love it."

Edward was right, and he would remember that walk – that day – as one of the happiest in his life. They talked about everything and nothing, and Edward loved her.

The ground was a carpet of moss and pine, and a checkerboard of light. They walked past ancient, towering balsams with grey-and-russet bark. It smelled like petrichor and damp earth. Ferns sparkled, creating carpets of jade. Bella had put on fingerless gloves to protect her skin from wheeling in the dirt, and a fleece sweater to protect herself from the cold. Over one moss-covered log, a column of ants marched straight.

"Ants are bitches, you know," Edward shared thoughtfully, content to walk next to her. It was a musing he'd had before, but not one he would ever share with anybody else. Outside of the confines of the world he built with Isabella, Edward did his best to feign indifference to the world.

"They are? Really?"

"Total bitches," he told her amusedly, his boots making twigs crack. With her, Edward felt free to be completely uninhibited. "They run tiny empires and they wage war on each other to grow their territory."

"Where did you learn that?" she asked, and she was earnest and curious. Her voice was so sweet and slightly squeaky, and Edward adored her.

"I took an Intro to Biology course with a PhD in – I shit you not – myrmecology."

Bella smiled her loveliest smile, looking pensive. "I took a class in Ecology, for my science elective. 'Cause you know. In a different life, I would've been like a forest ranger or something to do with wildlife conservation," Bella said wistfully. As she spoke, she turned a lovely shade of pink, and Edward looked at her with aching tenderness. When Isabella said shit like that, and Edward wanted to protect her desperately because she was too good for a world so cruel.

"Anyway, so the professor that gave the class specialized in fungi," Bella said, "and if you really listened to what he said, he managed to convince you that fungi were the coolest things on earth. Like, the largest living organism on Earth is a mushroom in Oregon."

"Ugh. Bee, that's fucking disgusting, sweetheart."

She laughed. "I mean, yes, but also, they're kind of … persistent, and I think that's kind of cool. Flowers just wilt."

"I'll get you a mushroom log for Valentine's day," Edward deadpanned.

She laughed so loud that a squadron of birds squawked and flew out of their nest as if someone had fired a gunshot.

They spent the next day at a nearby sand beach - doing nothing but lounging lazily in the sand. Because only Isabella could make him play like they were kids, they buried each other underneath the sand. Edward took her for a dip in the ocean, and they made it so far into the depths that they almost reached a lobster buoy, and Edward stopped touching the ground. It scared Edward shitless to carry precious cargo that deep into the ocean, but Isabella fucking loved it.

On Thursday, Edward picked up prescription glasses, tailored to his farsightedness. The glasses were brand name, and the frames were thick black squares. As per usual, Isabella was fucking right about fucking everything.

The glasses changed his life for the better. He stopped squinting at everything; his eyes weren't burning at the end of every day, and he didn't feel a headache looming every evening. If only he didn't look like a fucking loser.

Feeling self-conscious for the first time in his life, Edward modeled them for Bella while she sat on that Victoria-tufted couch she loved.

"You look very handsome," Bella said glowingly, and her cheeks turned the loveliest shade of pink.

Edward scoffed.

"You do. You look… sexy," she finished bashfully.

Edward squinted at her her suspiciously.

Smiling coyly, she inched forward and pressed a kiss to his stomach. "Honestly," she said. "You look like the models in the catalog."

"Bee, sweetheart…" Edward snorted. He knew she was perfectly serious.

Bella kissed his stomach again, enchantingly sweet, and her bare hands inched forward, stroking his middle. She kissed his stomach a lot – gentle touches to show love. Edward had never imagined that kind of touch, would make the blood rush to his cock, but an erection started to spring.

"Oh," she said bashfully, lowering her gaze. She peeked up at him through her eyelashes with her big brown doe eyes, and his erection only grew.

"Should I – Should I take care of that?" she asked blushingly, and Edward groaned. It took everything in him not to thrust his hips outwards.

"You don't have to, darling," Edward said throatily, trying to inch away. "You never have to take care of it, but I would – Ugh, fuck, baby."

Pointedly, Bella squeezed his dick, taking a fistful of denim fabric with her. Her touch was gentle but firm, and Edward grunted. Christ, Edward didn't know when or how she became so fucking sexual, but he loved it. Bella's intention tremors grew when she aimed at the topmost button of his jeans. Edward steadied her wrist for her, then helped her with the zipper.

He stepped away from the boxers and jeans that pooled at his feet, moaning when she touched her tongue to the head of his cock.

On their second-to-last night alone, the sky was split open with thunder and rain. The backyard became a blurry green mess beyond bucketfuls of rain. The windows of her bedroom rattled as gales rammed into them. By the coast, the sea raged, concealing the tidepools underneath it.

Inside, they were both necking and naked. Her body was sprawled on top of his, slender and delicate, and Edward's cock was as hard as rock next to her hip. Edward loved holding her. In his arms, Isabella always felt fragile. When they were so close, he could feel the tremors like a light vibration, and her trembling filled him with tenderness. Holding her eased his burning protectiveness because it was the one place where he felt no one could ever hurt her.

They weren't doing anything especially risqué. He was just holding her, feeling her kiss him in ways in which he had never been kissed. Feather-light touches to the scar along his ribcage, the very spot where he had slammed against the steering wheel. Hands caressing his arms, his chest, his sides.

"Put your hands on me, Edward," she whispered against his neck. Her eyes were sparkling playfully and her lip shook in an effort not to laugh. Though her voice was perfectly serious, it broke, and she burst out laughing.

"Why is that so funny?"

"It's a line from a movie. The line that comes right after Paint me like one of your French girls."

Edward laughed hard and deep, and she burst into peals of laughter. Knowing exactly where she was ticklish, he let his hand skirt under her ribs. She squealed, snorting out giggles. It was yet another thing he could do with her that was entirely new – revel in the intimacy, in the emotional closeness. Talk. Smile. Laugh.

"It means I think I'm ready," she whispered shyly, burying her face in his neck. "I want us to make love."

"Are you sure?" Edward asked softly, and a thrill ran through him like a shudder. Isabella raised her gaze, and her doe eyes told him everything he needed to know.

"Yes."

Edward felt a swell of hesitation, but she quelled it by rubbing his nose with hers. She kissed him slowly but fervently, and the ends of her hair fell between them. He pressed his forehead against hers.

Edward lowered his head and kissed every inch of her, blazing a trail that ran from her cheekbones to the curve of her hips. He lingered on her tits, teasing her until she was mewling. Gingerly, he dropped kisses on the bone graft scar on her hip. His lips lingered there, and he hoped to show her that he loved all of her – every bit of her – more than anything.

Edward knew he was large. He didn't want to hurt her the first time, no more than was absolutely inevitable. He needed her to be soaking.

When Edward finally reached the apex of her thighs, Isabella was already wet. Edward had learned to tease her, to wait until she was soaking. To kiss her thighs, and to kiss every crevice around her clit before touching the nub itself. When she was aroused, she made different sounds – more of a whimper from the back of her throat. Edward finished her off; her legs spread of their own volition, and she made a throaty, whimpering sound.

Trembling and breathing heavily, Edward rested his head on her stomach.

"Can we try something?" he asked quietly. "I've been thinking of – of ways to make this easier on you."

Wide-eyed and dazed, Isabella nodded.

Edward took care of everything. Standing and facing away from her, he rolled on a condom, because he did not want a baby with her now.

Someday. Someday, he wanted a baby with her.

Covered erection up, Edward tried what he had been practicing. Edward sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed. The spasticity in her legs meant she couldn't hold her legs up in the air or wide open, and not simultaneously. It would be best if they both sat. Edward imagined it would be a good position because Edward would be able to help her move. It was not something he had ever wanted to try before.

"Do you want to try it, my love?"

Edward helped her get settled, so that she was sitting on top of him, chest-to-chest, legs spread open and bent slightly over his sides.

By happenstance, it was the most intimate position Edward had ever tried. The intimacy would have been unbearable with anybody else.

They were so close. Edward was completely enveloped by Isabella. He could feel her body trembling like it always did. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest. Against his chest, he could feel the rhythm of her breathing. Edward could see every fleck of color in her honeyed doe eyes and the smattering of freckles on the delicate bridge of her nose.

Edward placed both hands on her lower back, supporting it.

"Are you comfortable?" he whispered gently against her hair. "Is this OK?"

"Mmmh," Isabella murmured back. She wrapped her arms around him to hug him, and it was so fucking intense.

They were skin-to-skin, and it was everything. "I'm just – I'm a little nervous. I've never, ever done this before." Her voice shook, and only someone who knew her intimately would know it was her nerves and not the palsy.

That gave Edward some pause.

"It's my first time," she clarified shyly, cheeks turning a beautiful shade of pink.

Edward was a fucking idiot. It shouldn't have been a surprise, but it was. He fought back hundreds of sentiments that bubbled up uncontrollably. He wanted to tell her how honored he was, that her trust was the most precious thing he had.

"I love you," he murmured hotly, and he would never say it to anybody else for as long as he lived. He hated the vulnerability in his voice. "I'll always love you. Only you."

"I love you, too," Isabella echoed, and a shiver ran through her body. "You just need to promise me something."

"Anything."

"Promise me that we'll always be friends," she said fervently, keeping her eyes on his. "Promise me that no matter what happens, that will never change."

Edward sealed his promise by giving her the most tender kiss he would ever give. From that moment on, his softest kisses became hers and hers only. "I promise. I'll always love you. Only you."

When the moment finally happened, she grew wide-eyed and flustered. Her entire face pinkened as she watched with half-terrified fascination.

With his hand, he guided his cock into her entrance and –

Holy fuck, she was soaking wet, and so warm, and so tight. Even through the condomn, he felt her wetness coating his cock.

He felt and heard the moment he broke through her hymen, the moment she stretched to take him in, and it was painful despite every precaution.

Because they were so close, he felt her breath hitching. He saw her eyes water. because her breath hitched in a whimper and her entire body stiffened. He froze, fighting desperately against the urge to slam his hips against hers.

"Fuck. Are you OK, angel?" he murmured, crooning, his voice breaking.

Doe eyes full of trust, she nodded, and Edward was filled with tenderness. "I'll be OK. I'll be OK."

He didn't know what to say. So he kissed every inch of her. Her cheekbones, the delicate line of her jaw, her cheeks, her forehead.

Edward pushed another painstaking inch inside, and it was agony and ecstasy all at once to be buried deep inside her. "You're doing so good," he murmured, keeping his eyes on hers, and feeling tingles all over. "You're doing so good, my love."

Holding her waist with both hands, he lifted her– up and down, up and down, and thrust in and out.

Edward had always thought it was bullshit from pro-abstinence fanatics – there was no fucking way that making love could be that substantively better than fucking.

It was a million times better than Edward had ever imagined.

Being with Isabella was more intense than anything he had ever experienced. It was not a sentiment he would voice aloud, but there was nothing like it. It wasn't just that it felt good, and it fucking did. It was that he was one with the woman he loved. He felt connected to her like he had never felt connected to another human being. It was all-consuming - mind, body, and soul. For the first time in his life, Edward was making love.

Edward loved Isabella. It was so fucking intense, and beautiful, to be entirely consumed by the person he loved more than anything in the world – and to be loved back.