FIFTEEN
I was lying on the lounge, my eyes half-closed as I tried to focus on the TV, but my mind was drifting. The bone marrow test had left me drained, and all I wanted was to rest. Suddenly, a gentle knock on the door made me sit up slightly. Before I could even think about moving, the door creaked open, and Edward's head peeked in.
"Hey, don't get up," he said quickly, his eyes crinkling with that boyish smile that always seemed to make everything better. "Stay right where you are."
I relaxed back into the cushions as he walked in, carrying a grocery bag in one hand, looking every bit the casual, post-practice athlete—sweaty, slightly disheveled, and completely gorgeous. He strolled over to me, the warmth in his eyes making my heart skip a beat.
"You're stunning even like this," he said, leaning down to kiss my forehead softly. "Rosalie mentioned to Em that you were sick again."
My heart skips a beat at how adorable this human is. I offer him a tired smile. "I'm just a bit run down."
He nodded, his expression softening as he reached into the grocery bag. "Well, I brought reinforcements," he said, pulling out a few items one by one. "I've got snacks to keep your energy up, some magazines to keep you entertained, and a novel—one of my favourites—to help you."
I couldn't help but smile, the gesture warming me from the inside out. He was so thoughtful, always one step ahead, always trying to make things easier for me. Just when I thought he was done, he reached into the bag again, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
"And for the grand finale…" he said, slowly pulling out a jersey with his number and name on the back.
My eyes widened, and a massive smile spread across my face. It was so genuine, so full of joy, I didn't even try to hide it. "Are you serious?" I whispered, taking the jersey in my hands, the fabric soft and cool beneath my fingers. "This is… wow, Edward. I love it."
He grinned, looking almost as happy as I felt. "I thought you might," he said, the twinkle in his eye making my stomach flip. "You look like you could use a little team spirit."
Without thinking, I reached out, grabbed his shirt, and pulled him down to me, kissing him deeply. He responded instantly, his lips soft but insistent against mine. When we finally broke apart, I leaned close to his ear, whispering, "You'll be pleased to know I have some dirty plans for this jersey once I'm better. Consider it your reward."
Edward's grin turned wicked, his eyes darkening with amusement and something else that made my pulse race. "I like the sound of that," he murmured, stealing another quick kiss before pulling back. "But let's make sure you get plenty of rest first."
He gently caressed my cheek, his thumb brushing against my skin in a way that was both soothing and electrifying. "How about this," he said, his voice low and full of promise. "When you're feeling better, we'll plan the perfect date night. Something special, just for us."
I nodded, my heart swelling at the sincerity in his eyes. "Deal," I said softly, already counting down the days until I could feel like myself again. Until I could give back to him even a fraction of what he's given me.
For now, though, I held onto the jersey like it was a promise, something solid to cling to, and smiled up at the man who somehow made even my worst days feel a little brighter.
Cuddled up in his arms I reach out for Edward's hand, twiddling his fingers absentmindedly, tracing the lines on his palm. I looked up at him with a small smile. "By the way, Rosalie has an official date with Emmett tonight," I said, watching the amused expression that lit up his face.
"Seriously?" he asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Well, well, little brother's finally stepping up his game."
I rolled my eyes, laughing softly as he smirked. "Yeah, try not to give him too much grief. It's actually kind of sweet."
Edward naturally slipped around my shoulders, my bandaged pelvis well out of his reach. "So, what are we watching?" he asked, nodding at the TV.
I couldn't help but grin mischievously. "The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills," I said, glancing at him to gauge his reaction. "Ever heard of it? Or is the big hockey player too cool for reality TV?"
He let out a dramatic sigh but didn't move away. "Oh, please," he said, rolling his eyes playfully. "I'm way too tough for reality TV. But I guess I'll watch a little… just for you."
I tried to hold back my laughter as we settled in, but as the episode played on, I watched with delight as Edward's focus shifted entirely to the screen. Before long, he was muttering under his breath at one of the women, eyes narrowing.
"Did she seriously just say that?" he asked incredulously, pointing at the TV. "What a bitch."
A giggle escaped me, and I leaned up slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his jawline. His eyes flicked down to meet mine with a glimmer of amusement.
He shook his head, letting out a mock groan. "This show is ridiculous," he said, but his attention turned back to the screen.
"Ridiculous, but addictive," I corrected him, smiling as I snuggled deeper into his arms.
He sighed dramatically, then gave me a small smile. "Alright, you win," he said. "You got me hooked. But only because I'm here with you."
I grinned, feeling more at ease than I had in days. Being wrapped up in him, sharing this silly moment—it made everything else fade away, even if just for a little while.
It took me just under two weeks to feel up to picking up a paintbrush. I didn't overly exert myself or push the boundaries of my body.
Alongside Edward, I rolled up our sleeves and got to work. Dipping paintbrushes into cans of fresh colour and getting lost in the rhythm of transforming the dining space. Edward ordered pizza, and we spent hours just painting, laughing, and making playful conversation.
"Hey, you missed a spot," I said, pointing at a section on the wall that looked a little too bare.
Edward turned his head, narrowing his eyes as he tried to find the flaw. "Where?" he asked, genuinely searching.
Without missing a beat, I dipped my brush into the paint and swiped it right onto his arm. He stared at me in shock for a second before his face split into a wide grin.
"Oh, it's on now," he said, scooping up his brush with a wicked smile.
Before I could react, he flicked his brush at me, speckling my cheek with paint. I squealed and retaliated, reaching out to smear a streak of paint across his neck. What started as a harmless little prank quickly turned into a full-on paint battle, both of us laughing like kids as we chased each other around the room.
The game came to an abrupt halt when Edward caught me by the waist, pulling me close. We were both breathless, covered in paint, and staring into each other's eyes. The playful energy between us shifted, turning into something deeper, something charged.
His eyes darkened as he looked at me, his chest rising and falling with each breath. Without a word, he cupped my face in his hands, his thumb brushing away a smudge of paint on my cheek. And then, before I knew it, his lips were on mine—soft at first, but then more urgent, more hungry.
I melted into him, my hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss. The world around us seemed to disappear, and all I could think about was how right this felt, how much I didn't want it to end. For that moment, wrapped in his arms, nothing else mattered.
I'd made excuses for two weeks to push back sleeping with him. So he wouldn't see anything unusual. But now I'm almost fully healed. I know I need to tell him. It's weighing heavy on my mind, but for now I'm enjoying the opportunity to play pretend with him too much.
As we finally broke apart, both of us breathing heavily, I couldn't help but laugh at the sight of us. We were covered in paint splatters, our hair mussed, and our clothes a disaster. But Edward's eyes were shining with a mix of mischief and tenderness that made my heart skip a beat.
"You know," he said, his voice low and husky, "I think this might be my favourite look on you yet."
I playfully swatted his chest, leaving another paint handprint on his shirt. "Oh, really? The 'covered in paint and looking like a mess' look? That does it for you, huh?"
He grinned, pulling me closer again. "Everything about you does it for me," he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. "But there's something especially appealing about seeing you like this – carefree, laughing."
I felt a blush creep up my cheeks at his words, a mix of happiness and guilt swirling in my chest. I wanted so badly to just lose myself in this moment, to forget about everything else and just be here with him. But the secret I was keeping nagged at the back of my mind.
"Edward," I started, my voice soft and hesitant. "There's something I need to tell you."
His expression shifted, concern replacing the playful glint in his eyes. "What is it?" he asked, his hands moving to rest gently on my waist.
I took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "I... I…"
It's on the tip of my tongue.
Edward's brow furrowed, but he remained silent, waiting for me to continue.
The moment I say it. His face will fall, he'll change. It happens every time I say the words. I can't do it. So I give him another truth.
"I'm so horny," I whisper.
Edward's eyes widened for a moment before a slow, seductive smile spread across his face. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, husky tone that sent shivers down my spine.
He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against my ear as he spoke. "Unfortunately this house remains unfurnished. What do you suppose we do? How can I help you blow off some steam?"
I felt a rush of heat course through my body at his words. My heart raced as I considered our options, my earlier hesitation momentarily forgotten in the face of his proximity and the desire burning in his eyes.
"Well," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, "I suppose we'll have to get creative."
Without warning, I grabbed his hand and led him towards the newly installed kitchen. The countertop was clear, having been protected from our painting shenanigans. I turned to face him, a mischievous glint in my eye as I hopped up onto the counter.
"How's this for furniture?" I asked, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him closer.
Edward's eyes darkened with desire as he placed his hands on either side of me, effectively trapping me between his arms. "Perfect," he growled, before capturing my lips in a searing kiss.
His hands roamed my body, leaving trails of heat in their wake. I arched into his touch, craving more. The cool countertop against my back contrasted sharply with the warmth of Edward's body pressed against my front.
"Are you sure? You seriously are okay with our first time being on the kitchen counter?" he murmured against my neck, his breath hot on my skin.
I paused for a moment, my heart racing. Edward's question brought me back to reality, reminding me of everything I hadn't told him. The guilt surged again, warring with the desire coursing through my body.
"I..." I started, my voice shaky. I looked into his eyes, seeing the concern and care there. It made my decision for me. "No, you're right. Not here, not like this."
Edward nodded, pulling back slightly but keeping his hands on my waist. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly. "We don't have to rush anything."
But I do. Who knows what tomorrow holds for us. For me.
