AN: thanks for all the love on the last chapter, really appreciate all your thoughts!

Massive thanks as usual to Mel, Meg, May and Ciara for helping me figure this out đź’“ Any mistakes are my own!

Chapter 6

•

Constellations

"Bella, is that you?"

Looking over my shoulder, Sue appears in the hallway from the direction of the kitchen, a dishcloth in her hand, soap suds still clinging to the back of them. Closing the front door softly behind me, I plaster a bright smile to my face.

"Yeah. I'm so sorry I didn't call. Traffic wasn't great."

"Was it a date?" Sue gestures at my dress, now perfectly in place. "How did it go? A little early to be home."

"Yeah, a date," I lie easily. "It was … interesting." Not a lie.

"Ah, 'interesting.' Not love at first sight then?"

Snorting, I suddenly feel on the edge of either tears or hysterical laughter. All the emotions I've kept at bay since I walked into that suite threaten to make themselves known. I push back the tide, blinking rapidly, clearing my throat.

"Not quite."

"Will you see him again?" Sue presses, wiping off the back of her hand. "Love can come with a little time, too. Maybe you can give him a second chance?"

"No, I don't think so," I reply, trying to keep myself from sounding snappy, when none of how I'm feeling is her fault. Instead I try to appreciate the fact she's interested in me: in my life. She has no obligation, but Sue has always been the truly warm and kind person that people aspire to be like. Unlike my own mother, she embodies it.

Shrugging off my blazer, I hang it on the coat rack over one of my dad's thick checkered sherpa jackets. I can't help but pull at one, trying not to be obvious when I inhale deeply through my nose—his usual scent before he got ill still lingering.

"Well, plenty more fish on that Tinderbox thing, right?"

I drop the arm of the jacket, a bubble of genuine laughter escaping.

"Tinder. And yes, plenty more, I guess."

"You'll find someone," Sue says, knowingly. "A good man just like your father. They are out there, I promise you. And until then, some risky sex takes the edge off, I'm sure."

"Sue!" I say, aghast as she laughs deeply, returning to the kitchen. Shaking my head, I dump my keys on the side table. If Sue knew just how much risky sex I actually have and why I have it, I'm sure she would be horrified. But what she doesn't know can't hurt. What they both know can't hurt.

Slowly, I ascend the stairs, finding myself contemplating the notion of going on a date—a real one, something normal someone my age would do. In a way, I do date. I'm wined and dined most weeks by men; the only difference is that they pay me, and I'm whoever they want me to be. But when I see Angela and Ben together, or Facebook updates from people I know—settling down, getting married, having kids—I find myself wistful for the normality of it. To have someone to be affectionate with. To have someone who cares deeply for me as a person. But it's all so far removed from where I am in life, I don't dwell. I figure I'm still young, and I'm not going to be an escort forever. This is a means to an end, and the end will come.

Instead of joining Sue in the kitchen, I head for the bathroom. An aging cream suite greets me: bland and beige with the same pink shower curtain I chose before I left for college still clinging to plastic hooks.

Stripping out of my dress, I welcome the warm stream of water from the shower. It runs scolding hot over my body, easing the soreness in my muscles as I run fingertips over the fresh marks on my hips.

I've been avoiding thinking about what happened all the way home.

I didn't want to be interrupted when I thought of Edward's mouth, or his hands, or his cock. I wanted to be alone; to ease the throb in-between my legs with my own fingers.

Because I've done a bad thing.

The worst thing I could have done.

And right now, I don't regret it at all.

•

Edward's lips are hot and heavy on my own. His kiss stealing my breath and all my doubts, drowning them in lust.

"Tell me you don't want this, Bella," he murmurs, thumb gently moving across my cheek, "And I'll stop. I promise."

But this is why we're here, after all, I think.

Because Edward Cullen wants me.

And for once, I want to be selfish.

I want to have something for myself.

I want to let him have me. Bella. Because with him, I'm not Maria. With him, he wants more than a few nights. He wants months of my time. Of my body. Of my mind. He wants to give me an opportunity. It makes him different from all the others.

This time I close the distance between us, planting my own lips on his: a green light that makes him smirk against my mouth, and run.

There's a fraughtness to our movements, the end destination already in my mind. The escalation is dizzying—intoxicating. Edward and I move rhythmically—grinding together in an intimate dance, just like we've done this before, our mouths connected by deeper lingering kisses.

My blazer is long gone, the straps of my dress falling down my arms, revealing my bare breasts. His hands caress them with a tenderness that makes me whimper into his mouth.

Edward's assertive as he moves us, so I'm on my back, wedged between him and the sofa, his erection visibly straining in the tight suit pants he's wearing. He kisses my neck and the valley in-between my breasts. His hands roam, the heat of his touch just as thrilling as before, but especially when he finds out just how wet I am for him. His responsive groan of desire sends a shiver across my skin as he moves the edges of my lace panties to the side and slowly teases me. One finger—two. He's not vocal, but his eyes speak volumes as he brings fingers I've coated to his mouth to taste, sucking them clean.

It all feels too good for something that I know deep down is a mistake.

But I don't make any move to try and change the situation—to stop it.

It's so much easier to succumb to sex than to overthink it in the heat of the moment. So I don't think when I'm on my knees repaying him in kind, my hand wrapped around his base and my mouth working over his long, thick cock. I don't think when he requests we move to the window, where we have no real chance of being seen, but there's an element of voyeurism that I didn't expect him to want. I don't think when he slides deep inside of me, stretching me in the most pleasurable of ways, with my palms against glass and dizzying views below, my moans painting condensation on the cool surface. I'm turned on by it. Being fucked for all the city to see. Edward gives me exactly what I want, and I take it all so readily. Until we're breathless. Until we're both on the precipice.

Climaxing with Edward feels just as euphoric as I'd hoped, his hands gripping my hips so tightly as he comes, I know I'll bruise.

He kisses me tenderly after—leading me to the bedroom. This next time is slower—me on top. I'm pleasantly surprised by the way he makes sure I'm okay. By the way he says my name, with it bitten between his teeth in a guttural gripe. The way his hand wraps around my throat, how he teases my clit, and swears to himself when I beg him to make me come again.

He calls me greedy.

But we both are.

Reality crashes down around my bare shoulders a few hours later. Caught once more in his web, I slow the intense kissing down until our lips part and we're frozen, caught in between lust and the reality of what we've just done. The sheets around us feel cold, the sun setting fast behind us, casting our shadows onto the wall.

"I need to go," I tell him.

Edward glows in the golden light, looking undone with his hair tousled, his bare chest glistening with sweat. He's toned, just a hint of softness in his physique as he relaxes against a wall of soft pillows.

"This isn't how I wanted to earn an internship, you know," I finally voice. "And you really shouldn't want to ruin your marriage."

"Maybe it's already ruined," he retorts, sitting up further, watching without objection as I leave the room and find my dress, my black lace panties, my heels.

"Why would you say that?" I ask from the living room, returning to stand in the doorway as I start dressing myself.

"That it's already ruined? Because, I think that's the truth. My wife left me for six months."

"For a job. For her career," I point out, almost rolling my eyes. "Not to spite you."

"You haven't met Tanya."

He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes, and those proclamations make me want to delve deeper. Instead, I push the curiosity back down. I'm already overinvolved. I'm already complicit in him cheating.

That thought vies in my head with other things that I haven't put much thought into: how either proposition would work with my dad, being as ill as he is. How I would have to leave the agency, at least for a little while, and the questions that would raise—from Lauren, from Rose. The dangers of being involved with someone for such a prolonged period of time, too. Of having a lengthy affair with a married man.

I don't want to accidentally fall in love with Edward Cullen. It's not logical. It goes against what I've got by with. He's a married man. A fucking Senator.

"What are you thinking?" he asks, staring at me intently.

"Nothing."

"It can't be nothing with that frown."

I avoid looking directly in his eyes as I finish redressing.

"I can't take you up on either of your offers," I tell him bluntly, stepping into my heels. Smoothing down my hair, I get ready to leave. "My dad is dying. This allows me time; it's allowed for treatment options. So I can't do either. Not now or ever."

I don't stay to hear what Edward has to say. I walk away, out of the room—out of the suite before he has a chance. I'm grateful he doesn't stop me, or try to argue with me like before.

Of course, part of me knows that it must be because he got what he wanted. What he paid for.

And that makes him just the same as the rest of them.

•

"These are for you," Sue says, placing a large floral bouquet down on the kitchen island the very next morning. My head swims, a fogginess clinging to my brain from a restless night. From where I'm sitting, laptop and books open, I do a double take, peering at them with a frown.

Velvet red and pink roses are interspersed with sprigs of green foliage, and accentuated with white peonies, hand tied in beautiful crisp brown and red paper. They're beautiful, and undoubtedly expensive.

"For me?"

Sue simply nods, a finger pointing to a small envelope scrawled with my name on it. For a moment, I think it could be from Rose. Or even Lauren; sometimes she likes to indulge us, but I don't recognize the handwriting, and the bouquet is far too extravagant to be from either of them.

My heart skips, because if not them…

I reach out, taking the envelope from where it sits in the bouquet and turning it over in my hands. Opening it, I hold the card angled away from Sue's curious eyes.

"Your date?" she says knowingly.

No regrets but for your situation. Call this number.

Scribbled next is a number. And then one more line underneath, in his perfect penmanship, ink laying desire bare.

Once isn't enough. You have to know that.

I close my eyes very briefly, all too aware of Sue's own on me. Thankfully Leah choses that moment to appear, her wrist in a cast with a bright orange wrap. She arrived in a whirlwind last night, sleeping in what she says is her room, but what has always been the spare bedroom to me. It's where my dad kept all of his fishing gear and hid a box of my mom's things she left behind. I used to look at the contents often but never spoke to him about them. Now that box is under my bed, and I've still not spoken to him about it. It reminds me we should probably have that conversation soon. Before it's too late.

"Nice flowers," Leah says as she takes out a coffee mug from the cabinet and selects a coffee pod from the bowl next to Sue's fancy machine. "Who are they from?"

"Bella's date last night," Sue assumes for me.

I merely nod in confirmation, no better story to sway them both with. There's no point in a denial at this stage.

"Bit weird," Leah says, leaning back against the cabinets as the coffee maker starts humming behind her. "He knows where you live?"

"He gave me a ride home," I lie, equally perplexed that Edward does know where I live. Of course he does.

"Well, if he's shelling out for these after a first date, then I say you give him a second, at least."

"I don't think so," I tell her flatly.

"Why?"

"Because."

Leah's looking at me with an expression of pure frustration as I struggle to think on my feet and come up with an explanation they'll both accept.

"Because?" she carries on. "Come on, elaborate. Is he hideous?"

"No."

"Does he lack ambition?"

I almost laugh.

"No."

"Do you not have anything in common?"

"We do," I say, getting annoyed.

"So?"

Exasperation wins out because I know neither Sue nor Leah will leave it alone until something makes them.

"He's married," I admit.

The sharp intake of air from Leah makes me focus harder on Edward's writing, and when I look up, I can see them both having a silent conversation across the room—raised eyebrows and all.

"Asshole," Leah says without skipping a beat. Her eyes bounce between me and the flowers. "Not you. Him. Wait—did you sleep with him? Please tell me you didn't."

"No," I lie, again, leaning back in my chair and rubbing my eye.

"Well, good for you not being an asshole."

Inwardly, I cringe. The shame creeps in, for what occurred between us. How the depths of my selfishness didn't care for Edward's wife or the potential ramifications. How, in the moment, I was all too weak and willing. There's no excuse, and even if he has no regrets, I'm starting to. The only way I can pander to my conscience is knowing that it won't be happening again.

Sue pats my shoulder, sympathetically. Sympathy I definitely don't deserve.

"No second date."

"No," I agree.

"Good." She kisses the top of my head. "How's your wrist this morning?" she asks Leah.

"Itchy."

I hold out a pencil for her, just as the doorbell rings. A glance at the clock on the wall tells us all it will be the nurses arriving to provide care for my dad. Sue disappears, leaving me and Leah alone.

Leah eyes me from over her coffee cup, taking the pencil and thumbing the point. "What will you do with them? I could take some stems for the diner."

"Sure. They're too nice to waste. I don't want them."

Her nose wrinkles. "What did he even say 'sorry I'm a lying, cheating scumbag'?"

"He was upfront about it," I concede.

"Just like that?"

"Yeah."

"He sounds like a terrible person."

"Anyone can do something terrible. It doesn't make them all bad." I roll my eyes; I'm older than Leah so I can see more nuances to situations than her very black-and-white view of the world.

"Yeah, but it takes a special kind of douche to expect you to be okay with being a side piece." Leah puts her coffee cup down and slowly eases the pencil between her cast and skin. "You know, I think I'm just going to stay in love with Taylor Swift. Between you and Emily, I've come to the conclusion that men slash boys are an utter nightmare. Like vampires. They suck the life out of you. I mean do you want some garlic for your next date?"

I laugh, but I know Leah is deadly serious when she says this.

"You might change your mind," I venture.

"Well, not anytime soon," she replies adamantly. "Anyway, I'll be taking some of these." She picks out a handful of different stems from the bouquet, oblivious as I slip the card they came with into the back pocket of my jeans, instead of the trash where it belongs.