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Chapter 15
EPOV
"Man, you need to wear a hat or cut off that mop on top of your head," Jasper says loudly as we head toward the dock.
He's right of course, but I don't tell him that. Sure, I've gotten the hang of most things on the boat, but small things, like always making sure I have a hat on or at least in my pocket, still slip my mind from time to time. In my defense, there was a lot running through my head when I rolled out of bed this morning. For one I had the best night's sleep I've had in almost a week. Two, I woke up sporting the biggest damn smile, not to mention a raging hard-on.
As soon as my head hit the pillow last night, I was out like a damn light. The fact that I woke up without a huge weight crushing my chest was, in and of itself, a welcome relief. The fact that my dreams were obviously pleasant ones judging from the attention my dick was demanding, instead of the nightmares of the past few nights, was even more so.
"You won't lose me."
I must have replayed those words a hundred times … hell, a thousand times between yesterday and today. When Bella called yesterday I'd been laying in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying desperately not to think about the fact that it was Sunday and I wasn't going to see my girls. It didn't work because they were all I could think about, wondering what they were doing without me and if just maybe, possibly, they missed me as much as I missed them.
I'd been a mess to put it bluntly.
Saturday had been absolute hell on the boat. It was even worse than Friday, working on no sleep after days of no sleep for days before. It actually reminded me of my first few days inside Old Colony where every few minutes I was spinning around because it felt like someone was about to jump me. After a few hours of working, I turned once to find Emmett staring daggers at me and I knew, without even asking, that somehow he'd found out about Boston.
He didn't say a word to me, not one, and barely spoke to Jasper or Charlie either. He's still acting like I have the plague, and though it makes things pretty fucking tense on the boat, I can't say it comes as a huge shock, either.
I've figured this whole time that Emmett would be the one I had to worry about more than anyone … even more than Xavier. From the little things that he's said and the not so little things Bella and I have talked about, I've gotten the feeling that Emmett somehow believes that he has a say in what she does and who she does it with - a right that Bella surely hasn't offered him.
I have no idea what he knows or who told him, though instinctively I know it wasn't Bella. I'm not sure how he found out, but in the grand scheme of things, it really doesn't matter. Everyone will know before long, though the only people's feelings I truly care about are Bella's and Peyton's. Charlie and Renée already know as do Carlisle and Esme, and they've accepted me as I am, not for where I've been. I care a lot about Jasper, Alice, Emmett, Rose, Seth, and yes, even Xavier, but if they have a problem with where I've been or what I've done, it doesn't matter as long as Bella doesn't.
She and Peyton are the only things that matter.
I shake my head and wipe water out of my face. A flash of color catches my attention. I turn. I see. I freeze.
Bella.
She's here.
Every fiber of my being comes alive, like a jolt of electricity has just been pumped into me.
Jasper says something. He could have just told me that an orange elephant was standing beside me, and it wouldn't make a difference. She's all I see. I smile and have the most ridiculous urge to wave like Forrest Gump did on his shrimp boat. Charlie slows the boat down as he approaches the dock but I don't even wait until he comes to complete stop before I jump off, unable to wait another second to go to her.
I see her drop her umbrella and then she's running. To me. My feet are moving, each step bringing us closer together. A few more steps, my feet splashing through puddles, but I don't give a shit. I reach out when she's only a few steps away from me and catch her as she throws herself into my arms.
She's soaked, I'm soaked, but I couldn't care less.
Her legs go around my waist and I wrap my arms around her, squeezing her to me. My whole body screams in relief to hold her. Looking up into her eyes, I struggle to breathe.
"Bella," I manage to say, though my voice doesn't sound at all like me. Hoarse from the emotion threatening to spill out, too many words wanting to come out at one time to be able to say anything but her name.
She grabs my face, holding it firmly between her small hands and I'm graced with a smile that is brighter than the sun. She's crying, the rain is still falling softly around us, but it's as if we're the only two people in the world because everything has faded away but her.
"I'm ready," she says.
My knees wobble. I dig my fingers into her ass to keep her from falling.
I don't need to ask her for what, because I know. The fact that she's here, that she's waiting for me is all the proof I need.
"Oh, Jesus," I say though I should be saying that in thanks to above. "Bella," I struggle to say again.
She leans down and when her lips meet mine, I swear it takes all I have not to throw her down on the ground, rip her clothes off, and take her right there. Unadulterated, all-consuming need rages through me and I kiss her back with all I have. I want to bury my fingers in her hair, but I can't let go of her.
I grunt in frustration because I can't get close enough to her, not standing in the middle of the dock in front of … oh, hell. Charlie, Jasper … Emmett.
Apparently she must get the same idea because she pulls away slightly and looks around. "Let's go home and we'll finish this there. Alone," she emphasizes.
My dick weeps for joy.
I can only hope that when she says alone it means what both my dick and I hope it means. I know we need to talk, I know there's still so much left to tell each other, but I've been fighting my feelings for the gorgeous, sexy woman in my arms for more than two months now, and I can't wait any longer.
God, I hope I don't have to wait any longer.
Reluctantly I set her down on the ground, though I don't let her get too far from me. I take her hand in mine and pull her as close to me as I can get her. We walk toward the parking lot and I look around for Cherry, but don't see Bella's beast of a truck anywhere.
Looks like we're taking the bike, not that I mind that in the least. I've been dying to get Bella on it.
When we approach the motorcycle, she stands beside it and looks at me a bit sheepishly, blushing adorably. And sexy as hell, too.
"I … um … I rode with Xavier," she tells me, though I'd already figured that out.
I reach out and brush her hair back over her shoulder and then use my finger to wipe the raindrops off her cheek. It's mostly stopped raining, just a few intermittent drops here and there, even though the sky is still smoky gray.
Stepping closer to her, I waggle my eyebrows. "I've been hoping for a chance to get you to take a ride with me, now you don't have a choice."
She giggles and then looks at me. Drops of water stick to her eyelashes. There are pieces of her hair stuck to her cheeks and neck, smudges of black from her mascara pool beneath her eyes, and the tip of her nose is pink, but I have never seen a more beautiful sight.
"I didn't plan on meeting you on the dock," she admits softly.
I stare at her, wordlessly, and my mouth hangs open.
Nervously, she pushes her drenched hair back over her ear. Now that the initial shock of finding her waiting for me has worn off a bit, I do wonder what made her come to me, now, the way she did.
As if she can read my mind she rambles, "Xav came over this morning and told me about a fight he and Seth had, and when we were on the way to work, Peyton asked about you and I remembered her telling me how much you needed her right after you first got here. Then I thought about Seth and Xav not being together all the time even though they both want it, and it started storming and all I wanted … was you."
"Oh, baby," I say on a sigh.
My heart stops then takes off. I'm turned on and so fucking happy I can hardly see straight, and I pull her to me, covering her mouth with mine again. This time I kiss her slowly, now able to hold her like the precious treasure she is. My tongue dips and tastes, in and out, slow and easy. I seriously think I could stay here forever and keep kissing her, but I hear footsteps off in the distance, a car start up, and realize we need to be alone before I get any more carried away.
I really, REALLY want to get carried away.
"Home?" I ask her, peppering her lips, her cheeks, and the end of her nose with kisses.
She nods and I climb on my bike, turning to pat the spot behind me. The seat is soaking wet, but then again so is she, so I don't figure it matters all that much if she gets a little wetter. Thinking that word makes my jeans get a bit more uncomfortable than they already are. I really should try and stop myself from letting my mind go places it shouldn't, at least not until we get to her house and have a chance to talk.
When she slips in behind me and wraps her arms around me, I literally melt against her. "No helmets, Edward?" she says into my ear, and her voice sends chills up my spine.
I shake my head, feeling a bit like a dumbass. "Sorry. When it's just me I don't think anything about it," I tell her looking back over my shoulder at her.
She rubs her hands back and forth across my chest and damn if it's not the best thing I've felt, well, for about the last minute or two, since I last kissed her.
"You need to be more careful." Her voice is gentle with its reprimand and I can't help but smile at her while I hold her hand in place.
"If you promise to ride with me more, I'll buy us both helmets," I tell her, meaning it completely.
I wait until she nods and then lower her hand to my waist. I back up slowly once I get the bike turned on and then pull out of the parking lot and head for her house. As soon as we start going, she lays her head against the middle of my back. Damn, I think in wonder as I cover her hand with mine, it's amazing how quickly things can change. I knew after the phone call yesterday that things would change between Bella and me, but I sure as hell never imagined it would be right away.
Her words, "I'm ready," bounce around inside my head like one of those little rubber bouncy balls as I drive over the wet streets, being careful to not to go through any puddles. Ready, I think again. Is she ready to tell me about Evan? Is she ready to be with me … and what exactly does that mean anyway? Something as lame as boyfriend and girlfriend or is it more than that? What is the 'more' if there is more?
I think back to a conversation I had with Carlisle the day before when I'd finally been able to drag my sorry ass out of bed once I'd talked to Bella and Peyton.
I find him sitting on the steps outside their back door and I drop myself beside him with a huff and hand him a beer. He takes it without saying anything, but as is always the case when it comes to him and his damn doctor voodoo shit, all he has to do is tip his head to the side, quirk that one eyebrow, and wait for me to spill like an overflowing bucket.
"So, Bella called," I begin, fighting to keep from breaking out into one of those songs I see on that Hannah Montana show Peyton watches on the Disney Channel.
He takes a drink of his beer, eyeballing me down the bottle.
And waits.
I really hate when he does that shit, though I should be used to it by now.
"She wanted me to talk to Peyton," I tell him, picking at the label of my bottle. I can't help but smile when I think about my Sprite. I reach in my pocket and take out the seashell that has been my constant companion since she gave it to me. I'm shocked I haven't worn out the ridges I've run my thumb over it so much.
"Hmmmm," is all he says.
Ass.
I take a drink and stare out over the backyard. The sun is still fighting with the clouds though now it seems to be losing the battle, as a dark cloudbank rolls in from the east. I wonder what Bella and Peyton are going to have for dinner. I think about the fact that I still haven't gotten to play Monopoly with Peyton - a fact of which she reminded me of more than a few times during our phone call. I wonder if Bella has added peanut butter chips to her chocolate chip cookies because Peyton loves peanut butter and chocolate together, but she doesn't like Reese's.
I wonder if she has any idea how I thought I was going to throw up when I heard my phone ring when she called earlier or how just hearing her voice made everything better in an instant. I wonder if she knows how hearing her cry almost broke me all over again.
I wonder if she knows that she and Peyton are the most important things in my life.
"She told me that I won't lose her and that we'll talk soon," I continue on as if I haven't just gotten lost inside my own head for the past few minutes.
Of course he knows exactly what I mean when I say this because since she sent me away Thursday night, I've pretty much talked to him every free moment I've had. I haven't had a panic attack, a fact of which I'm pretty damn glad about, but I came close when I first got home right after. The crushing feeling of leaving her in that front yard stayed with me for hours and it took Carlisle telling me over and over again that 'I need time' didn't mean 'get the fuck out of my life' like I kept trying to convince myself it meant, to get me to calm down.
I turn and look at him when there's a long silence that stretches uncomfortably. "Are you ready for that?" he asks carefully. "You know she's more than likely going to ask you some very difficult questions. What if she asks about your time in prison, about the things you've been through? What if she wants to talk to you about the night you were arrested or how it felt to be denied permission to attend your grandfather's funeral? What if she asks you what your plans are for the future regarding her … and Peyton? Are you ready to answer her?" he prods.
My first instinct, as usual, is to get pissed off that he's implying I'm not ready, but I take a deep breath and think about what he's asked. All the things he's brought up I've already thought about of course, and even if they're difficult to answer, I'm prepared to answer them all … except the last one.
What do I want for the future as far as Bella and Peyton are concerned?
I don't answer him and he doesn't push.
"Edward, have you seen that movie Jerry McGuire?" he asks abruptly, startling me with its seeming randomness.
"Sure."
"Let me ask you a question and please, really think about your answer before you just spout off the first thing that comes to your mind or get pissed at me for asking, okay?" His voice is intense, heavy, and makes me feel immediately uneasy.
I nod even though I feel like I'm going to crawl out of my skin.
"Do you remember the part in the movie, toward the end, when things are falling apart and they're talking in the backyard?" He watches me as I try to remember which part he's talking about. I nod slowly once I have a vague sense of what he's referring to. It's not like I have the movie memorized, but I do think I know which part he means.
He goes on. "Do you remember that line Renée Zellweger says to him? 'On the surface, everything seems fine. I've got this great guy. And he loves my kid. And he sure does like me a lot. And I can't live like that. It's not the way I'm built.'"
"What? Carlisle, no," I'm shaking my head, though what he's said has my head spinning. My skin tingles and my stomach is protesting, vehemently, the beer I just swallowed.
"Edward, just think for a minute. I'm not implying anything, just trying to make a point. You and Peyton met and had this instant connection, then you meet her mother and that didn't go so well, no matter the instant attraction that was there." He chuckles a bit and I can only grunt in agreement. "I just want you to really think about this, okay. Bella is a wonderful woman. She's beautiful, funny, stubborn, and most of all, available. I just want you to think about what you really and truly feel for her, separate it from your feelings for Peyton. We all know you love that little girl, but would you feel the same way that it seems like you do about Bella if there wasn't a Peyton?
"You don't have a lot of healthy, appropriate sexual experiences to take from and Bella has experienced a trauma that most can't even fathom. It's a lot, Edward, it really is. I'm just trying to make sure you aren't rushing into something because you want Peyton in your life or because Bella is the only single woman available in your age bracket."
We didn't say much after that, there wasn't a need to, and he knew it. He planted the seed, like he always does, and left it to me think about. I laid in bed for hours thinking about what he'd said, but it always came back to one thing.
Bella.
I love Peyton, I do, but I need Bella.
Thinking back over that conversation makes me pull her arm tighter around me as I turn down her street. I know once we walk inside her house, that things are changing.
I'm ready.
I follow her inside and the energy between us is electric. The need to talk, the need to be close, the need for each other is so prevalent, I swear I can reach out and touch it. She's quiet, but doesn't seem nervous. She walks in ahead of me and I throw my keys down on the end table beside the sofa. I think briefly about the last time I was in this room, listening as she told me to leave.
I shake my head, pushing those thoughts back and focus on the here and now.
She's ready, that's all that matters.
"Here," she says softly as she hands me a towel and a familiar-looking t-shirt and pair of sweats.
I chuckle a bit at the irony and she rolls her eyes at me. "We have a lot to talk about; I figure you might as well be comfortable."
I nod, taking the towel and clothes from her. "Come here," I say, lowering my voice. I reach for her hand and curl my index finger around hers, tugging, though she comes willingly. "There's no pressure here, Bella. None. As long as you want me, that's all I care about. We can talk about how much or how little you want or nothing at all. If you want to just sit on the couch and let me hold you, I'd be all right with that, too. There's just … us," I finish and brush my lips against hers.
She closes her eyes for a few seconds and it seems like she's trying to calm herself down. When she opens them again, pools of coffee brown stare at me, filled with so much emotion that it's like I can hear her speak, even though she hasn't said a word.
"Jesus," I murmur because it's the only word I can form.
So many feelings are swamping me, the need to be inside of her warring with the need to just hold her. I drop the clothes in my hand and plunge my fingers in her hair. My lips crash against hers, and I take. I give. I want.
Tongues, lips, teeth. Noses bump, heads tilt from left to right. Hands reach and pull.
"Edward," she breathes out when I move from her mouth to her neck.
Hearing my name flames the smoldering fire inside of me and my hands drop from her hair to her ass and I press her fully against me. Relief, hope, want … ache all buzz around inside of me. I know we need to talk, I know I just told her there is no pressure, but I can't help how much I want her.
She's obviously fighting the same internal battle because she grips my t-shirt tightly in her hand, but lowers her head and takes a few deep breaths against my chest. I lay my forehead on her shoulder and remove my hands very reluctantly from her ass and wrap my arms around her waist instead.
The sexual tension lessens but doesn't go away.
I run my nose along the hollow of her shoulder and then along her jaw because I just can't help myself and then whisper, "I'm going to go change. Is it okay if I take a quick shower?"
She nods, her head still tipped down but then looks up at me. "Of course. You must be freezing to death."
I waggle my eyebrows at her after I pick my things back up off the floor and tease, "I think I'm plenty warm now. In fact, a cold shower might be just what I need."
She giggles and immediately the atmosphere is lighter.
"Give me a few," I tell her, lingering for just another moment.
I shower quickly, though I enjoy the warm water for longer than I mean to. I make a conscious effort not to get too lost in my own head and tell myself over and over again to follow her lead. Now that we're here … wherever here is … and now that this … whatever this is … is about to happen, I know I'm ready for anything, as long as we're together. I know she's as nervous as I am and I know she's as scared as I am, too, but I know we can handle anything.
I hang up the towel and run my fingers through my hair one time before walking out to find her. I wonder briefly where Peyton is and then assume she's with Renée. I miss her and want to see her, desperately so, but right here, right now, is about me and Bella.
When I walk into the living room, she's standing in front of the bookcase. She's changed her clothes as well. Now she's wearing some black pants that hug every damn curve of her legs and ass and a t-shirt that is way too tight to wear anywhere except inside, where no one but me can see how it shows off how perfect her breasts are.
"Emmett was awful to you, wasn't he?" she asks but she doesn't turn around.
I stop dead in my tracks and lean against the wall.
Here we go.
"Not really. He would have to open his mouth for him to be awful. He's ignored me for the most part; besides thinking about all the ways he'd like to kill me I'm sure."
She sighs and her shoulders droop before she turns around. "I didn't tell him. He overheard Mom and me talking on Friday and he jumped to conclusions. He was upset Dad knew about … about Boston and didn't tell him," she says and shakes her head. "I'm really pissed at him. I'm sorry he's acting like an ass but his behavior is more about me and Evan than you."
I open my mouth, but she holds her hand up. "I'm not excusing his behavior at all. Rose is going to give him a thorough ass kicking before I can get to him, but I know my brother. He's been suffering as much as I have since Evan died. He hasn't dealt with it any better than I have, either, than any of us really. He's not stupid, all evidence to the contrary." She smiles but it's anything but a happy one. "He loves me, but things between me and Emmett haven't ever gone back to like they were before Evan died."
My heart hurts for her, hearing the wistfulness in her voice. I don't move even though I want to go to her.
She reaches a hand out and traces over the glass that covers the picture. I can't see it clearly from where I'm standing, but I know which one it is anyway. It's one of her, Evan, Seth, Xavier, Rose, Emmett, and a few other people whose names she's told me but I can't remember. All happy and smiling and so young and full of life.
"We're such a mess, all of us," she tells me. "I blame myself for Evan dying. Em blames himself. Dad blames himself. It's like we're in some unspoken game, seeing who can up the other two and claim the most blame."
Her voice is sad, so fucking sad, and laced with years and years of guilt and hurt. I'm half tempted to tell her to stop talking, but she hasn't even really started yet. We need to get past this next hurdle if there's any hope of moving forward. She said she was ready; I have to trust that she is.
She stands perfectly still and watches me for a minute, her eyes searching for something, something I'm not even sure she knows. I don't move either as I let her work up to what I have no doubt will be a horribly painful discussion for both of us. I know enough from the things she's said and from the things Charlie and Emmett have said to know that the loss of Evan runs deep, not just with the Swan's but with the entire town. Carlisle, Esme, Seth, Xavier, hell even Aggie have all been affected by his death and that terrifies me.
For a whole plethora of reasons I can't even give a name to.
She walks on silent feet to the rocking chair in the corner. I remember the first night I had dinner over here, looking at the chair that seemed so out of place with the rest of the furniture. The living room is full of comfortable, classic furniture – a brown leather sofa and loveseat, a big comfortable chair, a honey-colored wooden coffee table and end tables, lamps with bright-colored shades, pillows in the same bright colors. Warm, lived in … homey furniture all except the old, worn rocking chair in the corner.
I never asked about it, but watching her pick up the blanket that is laying across the seat and hold it almost reverently in her lap, I know it's more than just a chair. I make a mental note to ask her about later because now is not the time. She does her usual and pulls her legs up beneath her and rests her chin on her knees, wrapping her arms around her legs. The chair is situated in the corner by the window so I take a seat on the couch so I'm sitting facing her. I wait, anxious and a bit afraid, but vow to myself before she says another word that I will help her get through this.
"I rocked Peyton to sleep every night in this chair when she was a baby," she begins, her voice soft and far away. "I've slept sitting up in it more times that I can even count. When Peyton asked for a big girl room, she didn't want the chair in her room, said it messed with the vibe or some such nonsense." She chuckles a little and smiles in my direction when I do the same.
"Evan died before I even found out we were having a girl," she says, watching me.
I swallow painfully and try to clear my throat but there's no way any words are coming out of my mouth.
"He was the golden boy of Corea. Everyone loved him. He was handsome and funny and so damn smart. Even when we were little kids, he was always the smartest person in class. By the time we got to high school, he was even smarter than most of the teachers." She laughs lightly, reliving a silent memory that she doesn't elaborate on. "I'd known him my whole life. Our parents were best friends, and me, Evan, Seth, Emmett, and Rose were inseparable. At school there were a few other people we hung around with, but mostly it was just us. We had sleepovers, went swimming, Dad took us on the boat, Evan's mom took us to the movies every Friday night … it was just a really happy, carefree childhood.
"Things changed a bit once we got older, into junior high and high school. Growing up here, where everyone knows everything about everyone got old. Xavier moved here right before high school started. Rose and Em were already acting like an old married couple and spent most of their time alone rather than with us so once that happened, it was me and the three of them. Emmett always treated Evan like a little brother and really he spent more time with Evan than he did with me. I never thought anything about it; it was just the way it was. I hung out with some girls and did girl stuff, but most of the time I was with them. We did normal high school things with the rest of the kids we grew up with. We'd sneak out and have bonfires on the beach, or play quarters in Angela's basement … we'd even manage to make it to Ellsworth a few times a month. Looking back on it, I'm sure all our parents knew full well what we were doing; they just never said anything as long as we were careful. We all did it, everyone but Evan. From the time he hit high school, everything he did was focused solely on getting him into college … Harvard.
"He was so smart, Edward," she says as she faces me again. Her eyes are glassy and her voice shakes a bit, but so far, she's holding it together. "We always hung out after school, me over at his house or him at the restaurant with me. Most of the girls around here hated me because he never paid any of them any attention. He had no idea how handsome he was, and the more he ignored them, the more they wanted him … and the more they hated me." She sighs and shakes her head slightly. "They didn't understand, no one did, really. It wasn't that he wanted me or anything like that, all he wanted was to get out of Corea and he knew he was safe with me. His parents pushed him, but he craved it. He wanted to get out of here, go to college, and change the world. He wanted to be a doctor, an oncologist.
"I was with him when he got his acceptance letter," she tells me and even all these years later, you can still tell how proud of him she was. "We had our first 'real' kiss that night. It was totally awkward and totally like kissing my brother, but it was still my first kiss, you know?"
I can't help the insane jealousy that flares inside of me hearing her talk about kissing someone else. I mean, obviously, she's had sex but I sure as hell don't want to think about it.
"We'd always been inseparable, but after that kiss became even more so. We were young and didn't know any better. It was easy and comfortable and seemed like the logical thing to do. Xav and Seth were together by then, Rose and Emmett were already married, and we were pretty much all each other had. I was devastated when he left to go to school. I cried for the entire summer, which was totally ridiculous, even then, and so not me." She scoffs and picks at some imaginary lint on her pants. "I was so jealous of him," she whispers, as if she's confessing to some God-awful secret she's worried I'll condemn her for. "He got to leave, go experience the world … or at least Massachusetts and I was stuck here. He promised me he'd write and come back to visit, and he did."
She hugs her legs even tighter and her voice gets softer and more distant. My skin's crawling and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end as a sense of dread creeps up my spine.
"The first year he was away, he came back whenever he could. He hated Harvard, but was too afraid to tell his parents that. Up here, he was the big fish in the tiny pond, but down there, he was just a middle of the road wanna-be that managed to get in to the exclusive club. He didn't come home often but when he did, he spent all his time at my house instead of his own because he just couldn't face his parents. We'd spend the time we weren't hanging out with Seth and Xavier and Emmett and Rose when we all weren't working, together," she says awkwardly.
I cringe a little but I also can't help but smile at how adorable she is trying to explain.
"Yes, Bella, I know," I tell her in a much calmer voice than my insides feel like.
She lets out a long breath and then tells me quietly, "We didn't love each other, at least not the boyfriend/girlfriend, 'can't live without you' kind of love. Watching Emmett and Rose and my parents, I knew we didn't feel the way that people who are deeply in love were supposed to feel. We were best friends and being together was comfortable and safe. I think for him I was the person who would never judge him. I reminded him of home and all the things he was used to. For me, he was all I'd ever known. I never went out on a date, never had a real boyfriend, there was always just me and Evan.
"One night, we'd had a bit too much to drink at a bonfire. I remember him going on and on about all the girls there and all the people he'd met, the things he was learning, and it scared me. I knew I didn't love him but I didn't want to lose him either. All I kept seeing was some nameless, faceless girl getting her hooks into him and taking him away from me," she says, sounding totally disgusted with herself. "I just always had this dream of him taking me away from here with him, even if it was totally wrong of me to want it. So, instead of being his friend, I acted like a desperate, melodramatic little girl and pushed him until one thing led to another … a few times over his break.
"I was so scared to tell him I was pregnant, but when he found out he was ecstatic. I knew, deep down inside, he was just looking for an excuse to leave Harvard and the baby was the perfect out. I also knew when he promised me he would take care of me, he meant it." She doesn't say anything for a few minutes and I watch her as she struggles to regain her composure.
She lays her chin back down on her knees and looks at me. "His parents were furious and rightly blamed me for ruining his life. I mean I knew he was unhappy at Harvard, but he would have stuck it out and been a wonderful doctor. He was having trouble adjusting to being away from home and everything he knew, but it was getting better. He foolishly dropped out immediately, not even bothering to finish the semester. I told him about the baby, we told my parents then his, and before anyone could even blink, he was back and working for my dad."
At that, my blood turns to ice water, and now I really am tempted to tell her to stop talking. I'm not sure I want to know what happened to him, but I know I have to.
For Bella, I have to.
"He was an awful fisherman," she says solemnly. "He was seasick all the time. He couldn't stomach the smell of the bait … he was miserable. Emmett teased him mercilessly, calling him soft, telling him that he forgot how to be a man down there with all those white collar, blue bloods. He was just joking of course, but Evan took it to heart, especially when my dad and Carl, who worked on the boat with them then, joined in. Evan would just try harder, but the harder he tried, it seemed like the worse it got." She takes a deep breath and I do, too, knowing somehow, what's coming next is going to be especially difficult.
"You know when Emmett threw Evan overboard?" she asks and I nod my head, remembering Emmett mention it. I also remember his reaction, and that of Charlie and Seth, too. This isn't going to be pretty, I think. "It was the final straw. Emmett was just being Emmett, it was all supposed to be in fun, but Evan didn't see it that way. Evan couldn't handle feeling like he was letting my dad and Emmett down, so he begged my dad to find him a job on a different boat. I tried to tell him to work with Seth in the processing plant but he refused, saying he needed to make enough money to take care of me and the baby and he could make more being out on the boat than he could working in the plant."
She takes a deep breath and her voice gets harder, bitter. "His parents refused to help us so we were staying with Mom and Dad until the baby was born and then we were going to figure out what to do." She turns to look at me and now she just seems sad and weary. "We knew we didn't love each other, but he loved our baby. He was determined we would take care of the baby together. We were so young and didn't have the first clue how to be parents, but we were going to do whatever it took to raise our child as best we could.
"So, my dad found him a job on one of the other boats. Because it was getting closer to the end of the season, it was hard for Dad to find him a job. He tried calling in favors, but no one needed any help. Finally Dad found him one, but he didn't want Evan to take it, even tried to talk him out of it, promising that he'd talk to Emmett and Carl, that things would be better, anything to keep Evan from taking that job." I watch, not moving as she squeezes her eyes closed while she takes a deep, unsteady breath. My stomach clenches painfully and I curl my fingers into a fist, knowing that what's coming next isn't going to be easy to hear. "The captain of the boat had always been an ass, one of those guys that always took unnecessary chances and pushed his crew harder and farther than he should have, but Evan wouldn't listen to reason when we all tried to tell him not to take the job, to keep working for my dad, or even in the restaurant. He was adamant he could handle it, and after the first few weeks, it seemed like he could.
"He was so proud of himself," she says as the tears begin to fall. She doesn't wipe them off, they just glisten on her cheeks and she seems so small and so lost that I have to go to her. I kneel in front of her, forgetting that the floor is hard and that I've just spent twelve hours working outside in the rain. All that matters is her. I reach for her hand and close my hand around hers, squeezing to let her know I'm still with her.
"It was almost the end of the season and everyone was trying to get one last run in. I was about five months along and still helping at the restaurant. It was storming and it was cold, so cold," she whispers and shivers as if she can feel the chill of the air even though it's not the least bit cold in her house. "We're still not a hundred percent sure what happened. From what some people have said, the hauler wasn't working properly, but the captain was too damn cheap to get it fixed until the season was over. He didn't want to miss a chance to make more money, so he took the boat out knowing that something could go wrong."
She begins to cry harder, her breathing getting choppier by the second. I stand, lift her out of the chair, and carry her to the sofa so I can hold her. I wrap my arms around her and kiss the top of her head, wondering how in the hell she managed to survive what I know is coming next. I didn't know Evan, but just hearing what I have so far makes me wish I did.
I feel her fingers clench my shirt, twisting it in her fist, as if just holding onto something will give her the strength to go on. I hope it's me she's pulling strength from because I want to give it to her.
"The line for the trawl broke … and … and the pot they were pulling up came loose," she stutters in between trying to catch her breath.
"Shh, Bella, you don't have to say anymore," I tell her, my eyes burning with unshed tears.
She takes a deep breath and shakes her head. "No, I want to tell you everything." I can barely understand her she's crying and shaking so much in my arms, but I just hold her tighter. One more deep breath and she starts again, her voice cracking. "He was knocked overboard. The stupid asshole didn't even have a life preserver on the boat so they kept trying to throw the nets so he could grab them, but the water was already so cold that he was in shock almost from the moment he hit the water."
She sniffs and tries to catch her breath. I can feel her heart pounding against my chest, though honestly I can't tell if it's hers or mine that feels like it's beating out of control. I press my nose to her hair, my fingers move against her, hoping that her citrus scent is enough to hold me together so I can hold her together.
I have so many things flying through my mind that I have to close my eyes in hopes I can stem the onslaught and focus on Bella. All I can see is an image of Evan, struggling in the water, knowing he's minutes from dying. In that moment, I'm so angry. Angry at Evan for putting himself in that position. Angry at the men on the boat that couldn't save him. Angry at the captain that was more concerned about money than safety … angry at fate that took away Peyton's dad.
I'm angry that the beautiful woman in my arms has had to live for the past seven years feeling like she was to blame for what happened to him.
"They never found his body," she whispers brokenly once she's able to catch her breath. "His funeral was the worst thing I've ever gone through, though in all honesty, I was in shock myself. Seth and Xavier never left my side and Emmett pulled away from everyone but Rose. My dad was mad at everyone, and no one smiled at all until the day Peyton was born."
She looks up at me and I swear on everything that is holy, I can see straight into her soul. She's so brave, so strong, and she doesn't even realize it. I'm in awe of her. She might not see it, and she might have moments where she needs to lean on someone, but she could have curled up and let what happen destroy her, but she didn't. She needs to let Evan go, I can see that, they all do, so they can remember him for the person he was. Hopefully her telling me about him today is her first step.
I'll be with her every step of the way if she wants me to be, if she lets me.
"When Peyton was born, Evan's parents came to the hospital to see her. They refused to see me and once they looked at her, they left and never turned back. They sold the processing plant and we haven't heard from them since. At first I tried to stay in contact them, I mean I loved them, you know? They were like a second set of parents, so I felt like I had to try," she says softly, her voice sounding steadier, thank God. "I had Xavier track them down to California and I mailed them a letter, apologizing, and pictures of Peyton, but they sent it back, unopened. I kept trying until finally the letters I sent got returned saying they'd moved with no forwarding address."
After she says that she stops talking. She sniffs intermittently and she's still stiff in my arms. I'm not sure if I should say anything, or what to say. I want to tell her it's not her fault he died, that she didn't force him to get on that boat when everyone told him not to, but I know now isn't the right time for that. I want to tell her that I'm glad I don't have to fight the ghost of this perfect, all-American guy that she still has feelings for. It might make me sound like a prick, but I can't help it. I get that he's Peyton's dad and he was her best friend so there's a part of her that will always love him, but I'm more relieved than I'd like to admit that her feelings for him didn't go past friendship.
"Do you think Evan is disappointed in me?" she asks quietly, suddenly, as her fingers make nonsensical patterns on my t-shirt. She turns in my arms, small and fragile, and presses her nose in the center of my chest. Her question slays me, especially after everything she's just told me.
My God, it's no wonder she ran in the opposite direction anytime I was around her at first, I think as my arms tighten around her body holding her as close as possible. I don't have any idea if she's done talking, though, I'm pretty sure I've heard more than enough for one night. However, I know her question isn't rhetorical, so I answer as best I can.
"Of course not, baby," I say gently with my lips against the top of her head. "Evan's parents are the ones that are missing out, not Peyton. Every person in this town would do anything for that little girl. She's so loved, Bella. You've done an incredible job raising her; don't ever doubt that. Evan has nothing to be disappointed about, trust me."
"Hmmm," she mumbles, the sound muffled by my shirt.
I run my fingers through her hair, smiling just a bit when I realize her hair's still damp from the rain. She came to me, I marvel again. She decided she wanted me and waited in the rain.
For me.
My fingers twitch as emotion surges through my body. It's as if a switch has been flipped. Everything is out in the open now. She knows about prison, I know about Evan. All the cards are on the table; there's not left to get in the way. I know what I want.
Bella.
Peyton.
A life with them, a future.
I shift her on my lap, needing her closer. My fingers slip under her t-shirt. The feel of her skin, warm and smooth beneath my fingers, shoots a current of fire, of white hot need and want, through every cell in my body. I haven't had sex in more than seven years but what I'm feeling right now goes so much deeper than just needing to find a release.
It's about Bella, pure and simple.
Like it has a mind of its own, my hand slides to her hip and my fingers curl over her hip bone. They find their way beneath the waistband of her pants and I press, feeling the soft skin give way beneath the pads of my fingers. She turns toward my chest and her hand grips my arm, fingers tentative and curious as they trace the ink that wraps around my bicep.
The air around us is charged, crackling with heightened emotions. I close my eyes and breathe her in. Rain and citrus fills my senses and my heart races.
"Bella," I whisper.
Silently, I lift my hand and bury my fingers in her hair. Cradling her head in my palm, I turn her so that she looks up at me. Our eyes lock.
I can tell she feels the energy flowing between us because her lips part, her little pink tongue darts out and flicks at her bottom lip. Her breath catches. The whimper moan sound she always makes that never fails to go straight to my dick escapes on a sigh.
Her fingers flex and nails dig into my arm. She rubs her thighs together and I can see her pulse beating wildly on her neck. My thumb stretches and I cover the spot with my thumb, reveling in her response to me.
She licks her lips and I'm done.
My mouth finds hers as I maneuver her on my lap. I hold her, one hand on the back of her head, the other around her waist. My tongue plunges into her mouth and I groan low and deep as her taste explodes on my tongue. It's been way too fucking long since I've kissed her, even though it hasn't really. It just feels that way. Her hand moves from my arm to the back of my neck and her fingers twist in my hair, fingernails scraping my scalp. She stretches and turns, while pulling me closer. I pick her up and she straddles my lap, mouths still fused together.
Our tongues swirl and dip. I nibble on her bottom lip; she sucks on my top one. Our breath mingles. Our hands explore.
I wind her hair around my fingers, holding her in place. My lips skate from her mouth to the deliciously soft and irresistible skin of her neck. I let my teeth scrape along the path and follow with my tongue.
"Christ, Bella," I murmur as I release the flesh from my mouth.
She lets her weight settle fully on top of me, her pussy pressed right where I want her the most.
There is no sound in the room except for the pants and sighs from each of us and the rustle of clothing as we move against the other. I untangle my fingers from the mass of mahogany curls and trail them down her back, fingers craving the feel of her skin instead of the soft fabric of her t-shirt. Gripping her hips, I hold her in place. My dick is screaming at me, begging me to rock against her, but I resist. Barely.
She tries to grind against me, and I squeeze her even tighter. Intense, deep pools of brown stare down at me and for a moment, I've lost all semblance of time and space … of being, as I lose myself completely in her. I lift my arms and cradle her face between my hands, letting my thumbs caress her cheeks. Everything hits me at once. The ups and downs of the past week, the terror and the relief from the other night when I told her about what happened all those years ago, the fear and the hurt when she told me to go, the elation and hope I felt when she told me I wouldn't lose her, the surprise and the overwhelming need I felt when she ran to me on the dock, the admiration I feel for her for being such a wonderful mother, the sadness I feel for the loss of Evan … just all of it.
"You're so fucking beautiful," I whisper.
It's not really what I meant to say, even though it's nothing but the honest truth.
Her fingers slide into my hair and her eyes soften as she continues to look at me. The wheels are spinning in her gorgeous head, I can tell.
It's been minutes since she's spoken and I need to hear her voice. "Talk to me," I beg. "Tell me what you're thinking."
I need to know what she wants, because I already know what I want.
Her. Naked. As soon as fucking possible.
And then I want to lose myself in her for days as I learn every inch of her body with my fingers and then my tongue. I want to learn where to touch her to make her sigh and then I want to find out what makes her scream. I want to find out whether the left side of her neck is more sensitive than the right and whether or not her collarbones taste as good as her lips. I want to know how her naked tits feel in my hands and how her nipples feel against my tongue. I want to know how she tastes when she comes. I want to know what it feels like when I'm buried deep inside of her as she falls apart and if she closes her eyes or keeps them open when she climaxes. Does she squeak or moan? Maybe she screams? Do her toes curl; does the blush that turns me on like nothing else spread from her cheeks to her chest?
I want to know it all and then I want to know it over and over and over again.
Her eyes blaze hot and bright and she shakes though there can't be any possible way she's cold with the heat bouncing between us.
"I want you."
Three small words spoken in a voice so strong and so sure they take my breath away.
There's no hesitation, no doubt anywhere to be found as I watch her, looking for the slightest sign that she might second-guess herself. There isn't any. In that instant I know that no matter how difficult and painful the last few days have been, every second has been worth it to be right here, right now. Hell, everything that has happened to me has been worth it. Giving Bella the time she needed to think, to absorb, and then to decide means now, there's no turning back.
"Fuck, Bella," I hiss and pull her lips to mine.
I devour her mouth with mine, kissing her until she's a panting mess on my lap. She writhes against me, her nipples brushing back and forth across my chest. I inhale deeply and my hands fall from her face to her tits. My thumbs find her nipples and she moans into my mouth when I circle them, letting the edges of my thumbnails tease the sensitive peaks.
"Oh, mmmm," she breathes and the warm air fanning over my ear makes me rock my hips against her. "Ahhh." Squeaks and moans fill the air as my hips keep moving against her and my dick gets harder and harder.
My hands slip beneath her shirt and when I feel her, warm and soft, I can't get her shirt off fast enough.
"Off. Now, Bella, please," I hiss, pushing her shirt up.
She lifts her arms and as each new inch of tantalizingly pale skin is exposed, my tongue is there waiting to taste and discover. She pulls the shirt up over her head and then throws it to the side, leaving her perfect, mouthwatering tits right in my face.
"Holy … so perfect," I whisper leaning forward.
I'd be lying if I didn't admit that picturing Bella's naked tits didn't often have a starring role in my thoughts when I showered. I run my tongue along the edge of her bra, stopping to growl when I spy the black satin bow lying in the perfect valley between each breast.
I am losing control fast, but God damn if I want to speed things up.
I pull the front of her bra down and attack her nipple, circling it with my tongue. The pebbled skin against my tongue feels even better than I imagined. She arches her back and I pull down the other side as well. My eyes take her all in and then I'm making sure that the left nipple feels as good against my tongue as the right one did.
It does.
Her fingers tug and move in my hair. I never would have thought I'd like the way it feels to get my hair pulled, and none too gently either, but every time she does it, I swear my dick gets harder.
"Damn, baby," I murmur after I release a well-loved nipple from my mouth.
The little vixen rolls her hips forward, pressing her pussy right up against me, and I hiss. She meets my gaze and cocks her eyebrow at me. "You know I have a bed upstairs, right?" she asks as she taunts with her hips. Her hands move from my hair down over my shoulders and she wraps them around my forearms. My muscles twitch in response to her touch. How the hell something as simple as her hands on my arms can turn me into a horny pre-teen looking at his first Playboy I have no idea, but seriously, all I want is more skin, more places to touch and lick and taste … more her.
I lean forward again, my fingers at her hips, pushing, searching for the silky soft skin beneath her pants. My mouth finds her neck as she leans her head to the side exposing even more skin, teeth and tongue learning what spot is most sensitive and then which one makes her moan in the back of her throat. Her fingers slip beneath my shirt and the moment she touches my back, sparks of red hot want wrap around me, around us, and I'm so close to losing control that I have to take a deep breath to keep from taking her right there.
"Please, Edward. Upstairs," she begs as her mouth covers my ear. Hearing the raw need in her voice has me up and walking in an instant.
She wraps her arms tightly around my neck, her warm breath shallow and quick against me. I can feel her heart beat against my chest. I almost lose my balance when I feel her lips and then her tongue below my ear and then along my jaw but when I hear a muffled whimper, I stop. Turning, I hold her against the wall. My hands cup her ass and her legs are crossed behind my back.
"Hey," I say softly, nuzzling her nose with mine.
It's hard to concentrate. My entire body is flooded with conflicted feelings. One second I want to cradle her against me and simply hold her in my arms, then in the next, I want to rip her clothes off and take her … against the wall, bent over the couch, flat on her back so I can feel all of her beneath me, on top of me so I can watch as she screams my name when she comes.
I want it all.
I want her and I want her more than I've ever wanted anything before in my life.
Our eyes meet once more. If mine look anything like hers, she can feel how badly I want her all the way down to her toes like I can from looking into hers. There are things to tell her, things to ask, but all I want to do is feel.
Soft skin, hard peaks, slick folds, heat.
Her eyes dilate, brown disappearing until all that's left is black. The air around us pulsates and I know she can feel it, too. Her fingers grab, her chest flushes pink, her heels dig into my ass as she pulls herself up and presses herself firmly against my chest.
"Now, Edward. Oh, God, I can't wait." She pants as she attacks my mouth and moves against my cock, making it almost painful to move I'm so hard.
Wet, sloppy kisses are all we can manage as I carry her up the stairs. I haven't ever seen her room but somehow I know which way to go once I reach the top. I stop once we're inside and stand at the end of her bed. I want to look around but I want her naked and in bed even more. I don't wait and lay her in the center of the white comforter, following her down until I'm on top of her, neither one of us taking our eyes off the other.
I feel like I should say something, tell her how much she means to me, how happy I am that she wants to be with me … that I'm pretty sure I'm madly in love with her and never, ever, want to be without her, but all I can manage is, "Bella."
She swallows. I watch her throat move. She takes a deep breath and I watch her breasts rise and fall. She closes her eyes. My fingers trace an invisible line down the side of her neck and over her collarbones. She sighs. She has freckles on her shoulders and I move my mouth from left to right, kissing each and every one. As badly as I want to be inside of her, as hard as I am as I slowly rock against her, I want to take my time, though I know I'll give in to the need that's coiling painfully inside of me.
I let my tongue make a wet trail across her collarbones, nipping as I go and my hands find her nipples again. I pinch and roll them between my fingers through her bra and then not when I push it down. I tug and pluck, then knead with my fingers. "Damn, you feel so good," I whisper against her lips before I push my tongue in her mouth again. I swipe along the inside of her bottom lip, across her teeth, and then massage her tongue with mine.
With one hand I slide it around and through the beads of sweat that dot up her spine. Somehow I manage and fumble my way through and get her bra unhooked. I push it off her arms and when I see her naked and flushed, slow isn't an option any more.
It isn't for her either because she's grabbing and yanking my shirt and trying to push my sweats down with her feet.
"Edward, oh God," she breathes as she pulls my shirt over my head. Her eyes move across my chest and they grow wide and glassy when she spies the tattoo on my chest for the first time. "It's … you're … I …" she says breathing heavily. Her hands are everywhere at once, in my hair, on my face, my arms, over the ink on my chest.
She squirms beneath me, her hips rising off the bed as she tries to move, to get the friction she wants. I grab the sides of her pants and push them down, my mouth moving in a frantic circle from mouth to shoulder to breast and back to mouth again. She lifts and I pull her pants down over legs and then kick them off the bed. Fingers dive for her hips as I pull her toward me, pushing myself between her legs.
"Pants, off," she gasps in my ear biting at my ear, my neck.
Frenzied fingers, hers and mine, grapple with my sweats and she growls when I have to separate myself from her in order to get the damn things down my legs. Sweats and boxers both come off and when I feel her, warm and wet against my cock, I almost come right there.
"Shit, Bella," I say through gritted teeth. "I want you so fucking bad."
"Want you, too," she says between kisses across my chest.
I push a hand between us and circle her clit through her panties. She throws her head back, her hair fanning out over her pillow. I need to feel her so I slip my fingers inside, gliding through the slick folds. "Holy shit," I mutter, and move back and forth between her legs. I'm so damn hard it hurts.
"Edward, oh God," she moans as she arches off the bed when I push two fingers inside of her.
She's so hot and so tight and feels so fucking good. My thumb presses on her clit as my fingers continue to move in and out of her. I move with her, back and forth and it literally feels like if I'm not inside of her soon, I'm going to explode.
Her breath catches in her throat and I feel her nails scratch down my back. Her pussy squeezes my fingers, her hips lift off the bed, and she spreads her legs wider.
"That's it, baby," I rasp and suck a nipple into my mouth, biting gently.
As soon as my teeth close around flesh, she's coming. "Ahh, oh God, oh, Edward," she says over and over again.
I keep rubbing, keep moving my fingers until there's the slightest relaxing of her legs. At that, her panties are hastily removed until there's nothing between us. I settle between her legs again, the tip of my cock dancing perilously close to her entrance, begging to be let in.
I want nothing more than to sink into her, but I hold back. "Are you sure?" I have to ask.
"Yes. I want this. I want you."
"Do you, I mean should I get something?" This is obviously a discussion we should have had well before now, and as much as I hate having to stop, I'd never do anything she didn't want no matter how badly I want to feel her with nothing between us.
She shakes her head. "I'm okay; I mean I get a shot."
I nod, swallowing thickly. "Are you? Do you need to use …" she stutters and asks but I place my lips over hers and kiss her quickly.
"I'm clean, I promise," I tell her, kissing her again.
She nods her head and places her hands on the sides of my face. "I trust you. I want you," she tells me again and my hips move immediately.
I press against her entrance, muttering a strangled, "Oh, fuck," when the tip of my cock slips inside of her.
"More, Edward, please," she whispers, wrapping her legs around my waist as she pulls me to her.
"Wait, oh Jesus, just wait, Bella." I stare into her eyes, my arms shaking as I hold myself above her, my cock half in, half out of her. I take a deep breath and then let go, sinking fully inside of her.
We both moan at the same time and then we're moving. Hands everywhere, mine on her hip, in her hair, pinching a nipple. Hers on my ass, around my arm, my neck. Skin slides against skin, legs tangle, mouths seek, and we're both barely hanging on.
My arm moves beneath her leg, cradling her knee as I kiss her again. "Bella, oh, baby," I murmur. Wanting to say more but the way she feels beneath me, the way it feels to be inside of her is making things too hazy to concentrate on anything but just giving in to the need that's been building since I first saw her.
"Edward, oh God, it's … so much … so good, you feel so good," she whispers.
The coil inside my stomach is wound so tight, and I know I'm seconds from coming. My legs burn, the muscles tense and taut, as I try to hold on and wait for her.
When I feel her pussy clench around me, fluttering and pulsing, I know she's as close as I am.
"Yes, Bella, fuck yes." I move faster, sliding in and out, wishing I could keep going, but knowing I can't. She feels too fucking good and it's been so damn long.
"Oh, oh, ahhhh," she moans. She lifts her hips, meeting my thrust and then I'm gone, coming so hard I have to squeeze my eyes shut. It almost hurts as I come in spurts, hissing over and over until I collapse on top of her. I bury my nose in the hollow of her shoulder, letting my lips rest against her damp skin.
Her fingers run lazily through my hair as we both lay there, neither saying a word as the magnitude of what just happened settles around us.
She sighs and her nipples rub against my chest. "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you did I?" I ask, hoping I didn't.
When I don't pick my head up, she lifts my face to hers. Her eyes are shining, her cheeks are pink and hair is sticking to her neck and her forehead. Her lips are swollen and I can see the faint traces of scratches along her shoulders from where my jaw rubbed against the soft skin, but she's smiling and it immediately puts me at ease. "I'm perfect. That was perfect … you were perfect," she says gently as her fingers caress my cheeks and my forehead.
"I don't know about perfect, but it was fucking incredible," I say as I lower my mouth to hers. "I'm sorry it was over so fast. It's been … well, a really long fucking time and I've wanted you for so long," I tell her as I bite down gently on her bottom lip.
She moans and closes her eyes, settling back against the pillows. She languidly kisses me back for a few moments until I slip out of her. She growls and opens her eyes and looks at me.
"I never thought … I mean I didn't know if I would ever, and you're just … and I'm," she rambles nervously and I chuckle.
"Bella, hush," I tell her kissing her quickly before I move so I can lie down next to her. I pull her to me, loving the way she feels in my arms almost as much as I love being inside of her. "We still have a lot to talk about, but it doesn't have to be right now. I don't want it to be right now. Right now I just want to be with you."
She sighs and kisses my chest, and then I sigh when I feel her soft fingertips trace the lines of my tattoo. "So sexy," she mumbles sleepily.
I reach out to the side and grab some Kleenex off the nightstand and hand her some so we can clean up. When that's done I wrap my arms around her again and run my fingers up and down her back once she lays her head on my chest. I haven't lain in bed with anyone … well, ever and being with her, here, is almost more than I can comprehend. So many thoughts, so many words and feelings churn inside of me but I don't want to acknowledge any of them, I just want to be with her.
"Thank you," I do say though and wait for her to lift her head and look at me, which she does immediately.
Her eyebrows dip and her head tips to the side as she waits for me to elaborate. I swallow past the lump in my throat and say hoarsely, "For giving me a chance, for not running away from me, for trusting me." I run my fingers down her face and then she rests her cheek in my palm. Turning, she brushes her lips against it, kissing it before she looks at me. Her eyes are shimmering and her chin quivers.
"I need you and I want to be with you. You make me happy," she whispers.
"Oh, Bella," I say thickly and pull her to me so I can kiss her again. We kiss until she yawns, the roller coaster of the past few days finally catching up with her. I lie down on the pillows and she snuggles right up against me, fitting as perfect as if she was made solely for me. I smile at the thought, liking it a whole fucking lot.
"Rest, baby," I say softly, kissing the top of her head.
"Mmmm, this feels so good. You might not ever get to leave," she murmurs sleepily, wrapping her arm around me.
I lie there for a few minutes as her breathing gets softer, even, as she falls asleep. "I don't ever want to leave," I admit into the silent room.
Sometime later I open my eyes, feeling something warm and soft rub against me. During the night, we've turned on our sides and now her ass is settled right on my very awake cock. Feeling her against me, waking in her bed beside her, sets me on fire.
I hate to wake her up, but there's no way in hell I can wait.
I need her.
Rolling her gently onto her back, I crawl between her legs. I kiss her softly over and over until her eyes open slowly.
"Again, Bella."
~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~
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