AN: A lot of you thought what Bella did was stupid.. and it was, lol! Question is, will they suffer for it? Next chapter, more on that call...

Thanks for your reviews!

Love Is a Bitch: Two Feet

The rhythmic thudding started slow, almost distant—just the faintest creak of a bed frame against the silence. But then it picked up. A steady, unmistakable tempo.

Bella froze.

Oh.

Her face went up in flames as mortification clawed its way up her spine. She didn't turn toward Edward—she would not turn toward Edward—but she heard him sigh, long and slow, followed by the telltale scrape of his palm running over his face.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered.

Bella swallowed hard, staring at a fixed spot on the floor like it could physically save her from this situation. She had no idea whether it was Emmett and Rosalie or Jasper and Alice, and frankly, she didn't want to. Either way, she couldn't blame them.

They were heading into what was probably the most dangerous operation of their lives. Who could fault them for grabbing whatever moment of closeness they could? If she wasn't a virgin—and had someone to be with—she'd probably be doing the same thing.

At that thought, a frustrated groan broke from her lips. She pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, as if she could physically erase the thought from her brain. But it wasn't just this. It wasn't just the unfortunate timing or the humiliating realization that she was one of the only people in this house not getting laid tonight.

It was everything.

The weight of what they were up against. The sheer, suffocating knowledge that she might not survive tomorrow. The reality that she was twenty-five fucking years old and had spent her entire existence chasing academic accolades, publishing research, and proving her worth in sterile labs under fluorescent lights.

And now?

She might die.

The thought slammed into her, knocking the wind from her lungs. She sat there, stunned by the force of it.

Her entire life had been this. Studying, pushing forward, sacrificing every semblance of normalcy for the next breakthrough. No late-night parties. No stupid, reckless road trips. No lazy Sundays spent in bed with someone who knew her, someone who touched her like they had all the time in the world.

She had skipped straight past her twenties and into a life of grueling ambition. And now, if this mission went sideways—if they didn't make it—she would never get to experience those things.

She was a twenty-five-year-old virgin with a resume full of scientific breakthroughs and nothing else.

A sound clawed its way up her throat before she could stop it—a sharp, bitter, half-hysterical laugh.

"I'm going to die a virgin," she mumbled.

The sheer absurdity of it cracked something in her, and once she started laughing, she couldn't stop. The giggles tumbled out, breathless and unhinged, sending a violent shudder through her shoulders.

Tears pricked at her eyes. She hunched over, gasping between fits of laughter, covering her face with her hands. "What the fuck happened to my life?"

The words weren't for Edward. Hell, they weren't even really for her. But she still felt his presence—still felt the weight of him standing there, unmoving, watching.

She wasn't prepared for what she saw when she finally peeked up at him.

Edward's jaw was tight, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—Jesus Christ, his eyes—were a warzone of restraint. The green had been swallowed whole by the black of his pupils, his gaze heavy, dark, unrelenting.

Bella's laughter died in her throat.

Edward had spent weeks trying to keep his distance, watching her from a distance. Trying to keep this professional. And then when they finally met, trying to remind himself that they were in the middle of a goddamn war zone, that this wasn't the time, that whatever feelings he'd been choking down weren't real.

But right now, looking at her like that—like she was something he wanted and had been denying himself for far too long—Bella knew.

His resolve had just snapped.

Her breath caught in her throat. She realized, suddenly, that she had never really seen him like this. Not like this.

He had been calm in gunfire. Steady in chaos. Even when they kissed before, only a smidgen of chaos seemed to have warred in him before he composed himself.

But now?

He looked wrecked.

And she was the cause.

Bella licked her lips, pulse hammering in her ears. She should say something—should defuse whatever the hell this was before it went too far—but she couldn't think straight, couldn't breathe with the way he was looking at her.

Edward didn't move.

Didn't speak.

Didn't blink.

And then—

Then he did.

The distance between them vanished in a single breath, and before Bella could react, he was there, caging her face in his hands and kissing her like he had been waiting forever to do it.

A broken sound left her throat—part shock, part hunger. She froze, mind lagging behind the reality of what was happening, but then instinct took over.

Her hands shot up, fingers gripping his arms as she kissed him back.

And fuck—fuck, she was reminded how he was good at this.

His lips were hot and insistent, his hands firm where they held her, thumbs stroking over her jaw. The kiss was deep, urgent, devastating, pulling her under like a rip current she had no hope of escaping.

Edward groaned low in his throat, tilting her head slightly as his lips moved over hers with an intensity that sent a full-body shudder through her. He kissed her like he was making up for lost time, like he had been wanting this for so long and had finally lost the battle with himself.

Bella barely registered the moment her knees buckled.

Edward did, though.

Without breaking the kiss, he gripped her waist and pulled her flush against him, eliminating the last of the space between them. His fingers pressed into her skin, his breath coming rough and uneven as he deepened the kiss, as if he needed more.

Bella didn't know how long they kissed.

Seconds. Minutes. Time had stopped existing the second his lips touched hers.

The only thing she knew was that she never wanted it to end.

They only pulled back when oxygen became an issue, and even then, neither of them moved far. Bella felt like she was drowning—lungs burning, mind spinning, completely untethered.

She barely recognized her own voice when she rasped, breathless and dazed, "What…?"

Edward's forehead rested against hers, his breath warm and uneven, fanning across her lips. His hands still gripped her, fingers flexing like he was physically restraining himself from taking this any further. His jaw was clenched so tight she thought he might crack a tooth.

"I can't—" His voice was hoarse, roughened by something almost angry. "You drive me insane, Bella. Everything about you." His grip tightened at her waist, his thumbs pressing into her skin. He shut his eyes for half a second, exhaling sharply through his nose before looking at her again, his expression conflicted. "And I've been trying to stay away, but I can't. I fucking can't anymore." His fingers curled against her sides like he was holding himself back from something dangerous. "I'm sorry."

Bella blinked up at him, her mind still trying to process the fact that this—this—was happening.

Then, without thinking, she whispered, "Then don't."

She didn't know where the words came from, only that they felt right. Like a truth she had always known but never spoken aloud. Her hands twisted in the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, needing him closer. She couldn't stand another running incident, where he'd stop and brush her off like it didn't matter, when it clearly did. They clearly did. "Please don't."

She didn't know why he was apologizing, why he was so against this, but she didn't want him to stay away. Not anymore.

Life was short—too short. She had spent so much of it buried in her work, chasing goals, proving herself in labs and research papers. She had lived a mundane life of predictability and control, carefully measured and repetitious. But here, now, with Edward standing in front of her, looking at her like she was the only thing holding him together—she felt something completely different.

And if she walked into that lab tomorrow and didn't make it out, her only regret wouldn't be the research she left behind.

It would be this. It would be ignoring something that had been staring her right in the face since this all began.

Edward sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers twitching against her. His whole body was rigid, as if some final, fragile thread of restraint was still holding him together.

Then it snapped.

His mouth crashed into hers, rougher this time, more desperate, like he was making up for every second he'd denied himself this.

Bella barely registered when he lifted her, her body reacting purely on instinct, legs wrapping around his waist as he set her down onto the edge of the counter. The cold surface pressed through the fabric of her clothes, but it barely registered against the heat burning under her skin.

Edward stepped between her legs, crowding her against the counter, his hands pressing into her hips, holding her steady. He kissed her like he had something to prove—like he had spent forver wanting this, like he had tried to fight it and failed spectacularly.

Bella tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, chasing the warmth of his mouth against hers. When she tugged, just slightly, Edward let out a low sound—a growl of frustration or relief, she wasn't sure which—but the way his fingers dug deeper into her sides sent a shiver down her spine.

A slow, smoldering heat pooled in her stomach, something low and deep and dangerous.

Edward's hands skimmed up her sides, fingertips teasing the hem of her shirt. The touch was light, barely there, but it was enough to send electricity racing across her skin.

Then—suddenly—he stopped.

No. He wasn't pulling this shit again.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. His pupils were blown wide, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His fingers still rested against her ribs, warm and steady, but there was tension in the way he held her now—like he was hesitating.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, voice low, strained, like he was asking for the thing he didn't want to hear.

Bella didn't hesitate. She shook her head immediately, leveling him with a hard stare. "No."

His jaw ticked. His fingers flexed against her skin.

"Bella—"

She leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his lips. Then, barely above a whisper, she murmured, "I want this. Stop fighting, you stubborn, stubborn man." Her fingers curled into the collar of his shirt, grounding herself against him. "I want you."

Edward exhaled sharply, like those words had just destroyed whatever was left of his restraint.

And then he kissed her like he'd never stop.

…

Once their lips finally parted, Edward guided her down the dim hallway. The house was still, save for the rhythmic creaking of bedsprings and the occasional muffled moan leaking through the thin walls, now clearly from two different rooms.

Bella winced as Edward pushed the bedroom door shut behind them.

"Yeah," Edward sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "They, uh… always do this."

She turned to him, her expression a mix of disbelief and exhaustion. "You're telling me this is tradition?"

He shrugged, a ghost of a smirk at the corner of his mouth as he sat down on the bed. "High-risk ops. High adrenaline. People have different ways of coping."

Bella groaned and face-planted onto the bed, her voice muffled by the sheets. "Jesus. We should join in just for completion's sake."

The second the words left her mouth, she regretted them.

Silence stretched between them, too long, too weighted. The air shifted, charged with something thick and unreadable. Bella turned her head, peeking up at Edward, and immediately wished she hadn't.

He was staring at her, his jaw tight, his throat working as he swallowed hard. His Adam's apple bobbed, his hands flexing at his sides like he was physically keeping himself in check.

For a split second, she wasn't sure if she had actually spoken aloud or if he had read the thought straight from her lips.

Her stomach twisted.

Slowly, she pushed herself up onto her knees, closing the space between them. She reached out, fingers curling at the back of his neck, drawing him down into another kiss.

This time, it wasn't careful.

It was messy, urgent, a collision of heat and breath and something that felt too big for either of them to name.

Edward groaned into her mouth, hands finding her waist, fingers digging in just enough to make her shiver. Bella fisted the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more, needinghim. Heat spread through her, fast and overwhelming.

Her hoodie hit the floor before she even registered taking it off. Then her fingers curled around the hem of her shirt, ready to pull it over her head—

But Edward stopped her.

His hand covered hers, firm but gentle. A simple action, but one that might as well have been a wall between them.

Bella's breath caught. She was burning up from the inside out, mind buzzing, heart hammering. And yet, they weren't moving forward.

Edward exhaled harshly, his pupils still blown, his breathing still uneven—but he shook his head, raking a hand through his hair.

"What are you doing?" His voice was low, rough, like it scraped against his throat on the way out.

Bella swallowed. Her fingers were still tangled in his shirt, but they loosened slightly. "I was being serious."

Edward shut his eyes for a brief second, something pained flashing across his face. Then, with a heavy sigh, he sank down onto the bed beside her.

Bella exhaled sharply, embarrassment creeping in fast. She had just thrown herself at him, and he had stopped her.

God. She wanted to crawl into a hole.

Before she could move, Edward shifted. He rolled onto his side, looping an arm around her waist and pulling her against him.

Bella stiffened, surprised, but then… she melted.

His warmth enveloped her, his arms solid and steady, holding her in a way that didn't feel like rejection. She pressed her cheek against his chest, listening to the strong, deep rhythm of his heartbeat.

She didn't understand.

Edward had kissed her like he was starving. Had touched her like he couldn't help himself. Had wanted her—she knew he had.

So why had he stopped?

As she warred with that question in her mind, Edward pulled in a deep breath, his own thoughts spiraling.

She thought she was going to die, and Edward saw it so clearly.

It was in the way she had kissed him, how desperately she had reached for him, how she had rushed to take off her clothes like she was running out of time.

And it gutted him.

Because Bella deserved more than that. More than a frantic, heat-of-the-moment decision made under the crushing weight of fear. She deserved to choose—not because she thought her world was ending, but because she wanted him.

And he wasn't going to let her do this out of panic.

She wasn't dying. He refused to let that be an option.

Bella's fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, the embarrassment tightening in her chest.

Edward exhaled slowly, his voice quieter now, as he said, "You just said you were going to die a virgin, Bella."

Bella shut her eyes. God, why had she said that? Her and her damn word vomit.

His arms tightened around her. "Bella," he murmured, his breath ruffling her hair. "You're not dying."

She swallowed, pressing her lips together.

"I won't let you," he said, firm, absolute.

A dry, exhausted laugh escaped her. Half-bitter, half-hysterical. "Oh, okay. So you're God now?"

Edward let out a quiet chuckle, the sound vibrating against her cheek. "Something like that."

Bella sighed, her eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion settled into her bones.

She didn't believe in miracles. She didn't believe in guarantees.

But wrapped in Edward's arms, she almost wanted to.

You want the next chapter tonight? Let me know ;)