The Breakers Chapter 26

~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~

Chapter 26

BPOV

"Sir, you're going to have to let go of her. We need to check her vitals and take a look at that head wound. You need to let us do our job," a strange voice floats from somewhere close.

"Don't fucking hurt her," Edward growls. I try to smile, but it hurts, which causes me to groan. "Shit, Bella, I'm sorry." His voice is hoarse, raw and I want so much to reach up and touch him, but my arm feels like it weighs a hundred pounds.

I try to talk but no sound comes out. My throat is so dry; it burns like someone dropped a lit match down it. The throbbing in my head is so intense that it makes my eyes water.

"Baby, oh God, what is it? Why are you crying? What hurts?" His hands flutter over my body but don't touch me, like he's afraid if he does, he'll cause me pain.

It takes a gargantuan effort, but I manage to swallow and then say, "It's my head." This time he groans and the sound cuts right through me. "I'll be okay, Edward. Don't worry."

My eyes fall closed on their own accord even though I try so hard to keep them open. After a few minutes pass, though it seems much longer, I open them again when I feel someone touching me; I know it's not Edward judging by the slightly rough way the hands push and prod at me.

I feel a blood pressure cuff around my arm then something in my ear. The cold of a stethoscope against my chest causes me to hiss, which in turn causes a piercing pain to shoot through my head from one side to the other, like I've just been stabbed with a hot fire poker.

Holy hell I've never felt anything hurt that badly.

I whimper and immediately Edward's face is right by mine, his lips on my cheek pressing gentle, soft kisses everywhere he can reach.

"You're going to be okay. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to protect you. This is all my fault." His voice is so anguished that it takes my breath away for a second.

Fuzzy, out of focus images flit in my mind. The front door splintered and open. Aleksei's face. His cold, soulless eyes. A gun. Edward's face full of rage then fear ... then nothing. I vaguely remember hearing my dad's voice, feeling his mustache against my forehead when he gave me a kiss.

"What? I don't remember ..." I utter growing more confused and anxious by the moment. "What happened? Where's my dad? Where's Aleksei?" My heart races and I feel like I'm about to fall apart.

"Bella, shhh, you're safe now. Everything's okay," Edward tells me, but his voice is shaking so much. I can't tell if it's because there's things he's not telling me or if, like me, everything is finally catching up to him.

"Miss," the other voice interrupts just as I'm about to try to comfort Edward. I turn away from him and toward the strange voice. A howl of pain escapes when he shines a light in my eyes, and this time there's no stopping the tears that leak from them ... nor the growl Edward lets out.

"I'm sorry," the paramedic tells me. "You have a pretty bad bump on your head and I needed to check your pupils." I hear his pen scratch over the paper as he makes his notes and I try to catch my breath.

"Edward, shhhh," I murmur when I hear he's still muttering and threatening under his breath. His fingers are in my hair, soothing with every stroke. When he leans in close and I can hear the faint whistle and wheeze in his breath I pull back and look at him.

Finally able to focus now that some of the cobwebs have cleared from my brain, I look at him ... really look. "Oh, Edward." I groan and reach out to run my fingers down the side of his cheek.

He's a mess ... split lip with blood still seeping out, the beginnings of a black eye, a dark purple-black bruise on his cheek. His shirt is torn and covered with splatters of dried blood. His hair is more wild than I've ever seen. He's leaning and cradles his arm against his side, and I can see the tight lines of pain in the corners of his mouth.

He closes his eyes and leans into the palm of my hand, lifting his own to cover it. "Oh my God." I sniffle. He opens his eyes and gazes at me. "Your hands," I whisper.

He looks down at his free hand, the one that's still in my hair, and shrugs his shoulders, dismissing my worry. A few more minutes pass. Every time the ambulance hits a bump or a dip and he's jostled, he moans. When we go over a particularly hard bump, he hisses a harsh, "Fuck!"

"Edward, you need to be looked at," I say sadly then turn to look at the paramedic. "Can't you at least give him anything? He's in pain," and now, the tears start again.

I huff, frustrated, aching, and wanting so very badly to go to sleep and wake up and find that everything that's happened tonight has been just a nightmare.

"I'm sorry, Miss," the guy says and he really does sound apologetic. "He's refused treatment and until we can get him to the hospital, get him x-rayed and checked over, there isn't anything I can do."

I snap my head in Edward's direction, ignoring the sharp, shooting pain that flashes in my head and plead. "Edward," is all I manage to get out before he places a finger gently over my mouth. The touch is at complete odds with the chaos I see swimming in his storm cloud-colored eyes and my heart twists at the pain I can feel vibrating through his finger.

"Don't fucking say it, Bella. Once I know you're going to be okay, then I'll let someone take a look at me, but not before." I flinch from the sharp edge of his voice and when he notices the distress on my face, his eyes soften.

"Do you have any idea what it was like to watch him touch you and be powerless to stop him from hurting you? If he would have ... I almost ... " He pants in between gasps of breath. "I could have lost you." He closes his eyes, but it doesn't matter. I can see, feel, the anguish he's suffering pour off of him. It's in the air. It's in the way he touches me. It's in the way he won't let me go.

I reach for his hand and ask in a tiny voice, "What happened? I don't remember anything after he hit me."

He opens his mouth then snaps it shut. Then does it again. His fingers twitch. He squeezes my hand, harder than I know he means to, then looks apologetically at me when I jiggle our hands so he loosens his grip. "I …" He sighs and shakes his head. "I can't, Bella. Not yet."

I understand how hard this is for him, so I smile at him before turning my head. I stare at the roof of the ambulance, not really seeing it, and let myself drift off to sleep. An awful ruckus yanks me from my sleep and I'm jerked out of the back of the ambulance. Now, everything seems to be going in fast forward. I hear Edward arguing with a nurse about coming with me, and every sound out of his mouth is laced in pain.

"Wait, please," I hoarsely ask the orderly pushing the stretcher. "Edward," I call to him, hoping he can hear me above his ranting. I know he's upset, worried, and that guilt is eating him alive but the man needs to be checked out.

"What do you need?" he immediately asks as he steps up beside me.

"Let them check you out, please? You're hurt and you need attention."

I can tell he's about to argue with me, again, but I can't handle thinking about him in pain for one more second. "Edward, please, for me, let the doctor look at your ribs and your hands and make sure you're okay. Please." I don't mean to cry and I don't do it to make him feel bad, but the tears fall anyway.

The second he sees them, he deflates. With his forehead pressed against mine, he whispers, "Okay. For you, but I'm coming to find you as soon as I'm done." He kisses me quickly on the lips and he winces when he stands up straight. "Please be careful with her," he says, sounding lost and in so much pain.

"Love you," he tells me as he brushes the tip of his finger down my cheek as I'm wheeled away.

I try to hold it together, I really do, but I begin to shake as silent tears stream from my eyes. The whole night comes rushing back, or what I can remember of it … the fear, the anger, the guilt … all of it and I can't handle it.

A short while later, after I've been poked and prodded and asked a million and one questions I hear the unmistakable voice of my mom, which instantly triggers more tears. I feel like a damn basket case, but the second she peeks around the curtain, I'm done.

"Oh, baby girl," she cries and rushes to me. I'm engulfed by her arms and the moment I smell her familiar mom scent - fresh baked cinnamon rolls, coffee, and a hint of clean laundry right from the dryer - I breathe in a huge sigh of relief.

"Mom," is all I manage to get out before my dad slips in beside her.

Seeing him totally wrecks me because suddenly I remember hearing his voice at my house. "Daddy," I sob as he sits on my other side. I haven't called him that since I was ten-years-old, but the word slips out as naturally as breathing.

The next few hours pass by in a blur of tests and tears and threats. A CAT scan to confirm I have a slight concussion, as if the huge bump and shooting pain aren't enough of an indicator. Tears when I beg my dad to go check on Edward but before he can go, Carlisle and a man dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans, but with a badge attached to his hip tell him that the detectives from the Boston PD are there to take his statement. I hear them mention talking to Edward, too, and my mind goes into overdrive, imagining all sorts of worse case scenarios.

No one has told me what happened yet. Every time I ask my dad, he shushes me and just tells me I'm safe and I'll be okay.

When the man who I hear my dad call Bud sees how upset I'm getting he slowly approaches the bed. "Bella, there isn't anything for you to worry about. They just need to ask Edward a few questions and clear up a few things, that's all. I promise," he tells me sincerely.

Bud looks pretty worse for wear, too, and something about the way he looks at me, like he's afraid to say too much, and then looks at my dad and Carlisle makes me narrow my eyes. "You were at my house," I don't ask, I state, knowing there's much they aren't telling me.

He finally nods when I levelly stare at him. "Why?"

I listen, curled against my mom and holding my dad's hand as Bud explains everything. He starts with my dad contacting him for information to when he arrived at my house and found the door open. He finally tells me what happened when he came into the house and saw Edward and Aleksei … and how he shot Aleksei.

"He's dead?" I question, knowing how wrong it is to rejoice in the death of someone else. In this case though, I can't find it in me to feel any remorse.

It's a thought I know I'll have to revisit at a later date.

"He is. So, no need to worry about Edward getting in any trouble, okay? He didn't do anything wrong and no one's going to say he did," Bud says and my dad barks out a "That's for damned sure. Over my dead body is anything going to happen to that boy."

I smile through my tears and throw my arms around my dad's neck. "Thank you for coming to our rescue," I whisper and sigh against his chest when he tucks me beneath his chin. Besides Edward, no one on Earth makes me feel as safe as my dad.

I reach out and wrap my fingers around Bud's hand. I can tell it takes him by surprise and makes him slightly uncomfortable, but I have to say something to him. "And thank you for making it so that Edward doesn't have to live with taking someone's life. I'm sorry you had to, but I'm so grateful that he didn't."

The words seem insufficient, but they're all I have.

"Just doing my job," he says gruffly after he clears his throat. "Charlie, what do you say we go get this done and get Edward back to his girl? Bella, I hope the next time I see you it'll be under much better circumstances."

Dad kisses me on the top of the head and then slides off the bed. "I'm sure this will take a little bit, but don't worry, I'll make sure Edward's okay. Love you, Bella," he says through a few heavy breaths.

"Love you, too, Daddy. Tell Edward to hurry … and that I love him." He nods once, lays a hand on my mom's shoulder and strides through the curtains.

Esme pops in a few minutes later. "Edward sent me with a message," she says as she smiles at me. I can tell she's been crying; her eyes are rimmed in red and the end of her nose is pink, but I'm so happy he hasn't been alone this whole time. When I look at her she simply leans over and kisses my cheek. "That's all you get until he can do it himself." She giggles and my heart immediately feels a hundred pounds lighter. "He has bruised ribs, a broken finger, and a few cuts that needed stitches, but other than that, he's just fine. Anxious to get to you but once Carlisle and Charlie both assured him you were awake and coherent, he relaxed … a little," she qualifies.

"Mom, where's Peyton?" I ask, needing my little girl. I hate the thought of her seeing me like this … and telling her what happened, but I want to see her, hold her, and tell her I love her.

Mom runs her fingers through my hair, and frowns then sighs when she lightly traces the gash on the side of my head. It's been cleaned and bandaged between the CAT scan and the exam. I'm just thankful my hair didn't need to be shaved. I imagine between Edward and me, we'll look plenty frightening to Peyton; no need to add more on top of it.

"Xavier and Seth are on their way. We told them to wait until you were done with your tests and in a room before they got here. Peyton will be upset enough once she sees the two of you. We all thought it would be better for her to at least see you in a room where it wasn't so chaotic."

I close my eyes and feel the burn of tears that threaten to fall … again. Damn, I'd really like to be able to go more than five minutes without leaking like a freaking sieve.

Thankfully, I am brought to a room shortly thereafter. I'm so tired and my body just aches. All over; even my hair and my toes hurt. At the same time, my stomach is tied in knots and my skin's crawling, like thousands of tiny ants are marching all over my body. I wring my hands. I huff. I kick my legs.

I'm going out of my ever-loving mind.

I need Peyton.

I want Edward.

Now.

My mom has gone down to the cafeteria with Esme; they said to get some coffee, but I think they both could tell I needed a few minutes alone. Now that the adrenaline rush of the ER has faded, my mind is able to put bits and pieces of the night together to give me a better picture of what happened earlier. I'll never forget the look on Edward's face when he saw Aleksei holding the gun against me and I damn sure know I'll never forget the way it felt as he stood behind me and breathed in my ear, either. I shiver just from the thought and wrap my arms around my stomach. Turning on my side, I bring my knees up to my chest and curl into a ball like I used to do when I was a little girl.

I say a quick but heartfelt prayer for the strength to help Edward. I know he's going to have a hard time believing that what happened wasn't his fault. The remorse and the guilt he's already carrying will consume him if he lets it … but if I have anything to say about it, it won't.

I will not let this destroy what he, what we've found with each other.

Not on your damned life.

I look at the clock on the wall and wonder how much longer until the other two pieces of my heart get here.

Just then I hear a creak of the door and then small, light footsteps followed by a tiny, scared whisper. "Mommy?" Just like a little while ago when I used a word for comfort, so, too, does my daughter. And, just like before, hearing it makes the tears fall every bit as much as saying it.

Quickly I sit up and hold my arms to her, pulling her to me as soon as she gets close enough. I ignore the aches in my body and the searing pain in my head and hold her close to me. "Baby. Oh, I love you. Mommy loves you so much," I say over and over again as I rock her in my arms. Just the feel of her against me quiets the storm in my mind and soothes my soul. Again, I say another prayer of thanks that she wasn't home to witness the madness.

"Mommy, what's wrong with your head? Why are you here? Where's Edward?" She sniffs and wipes the end of her nose with the back of her hand and her pretty, slate blue eyes are so sad, so full of questions.

I cup her cheek with one of my hands and with the other reach out to hold her hand. She's still and so, so quiet … not at all like my Peyton, and it breaks my heart to see. I look up and glance at Xavier and Seth, both of whom look worse than they did when Evan died. They're both pale with dark circles under blood shot eyes and every muscle in their bodies is tense. I motion them closer with my head and that opens the floodgates. Peyton and I both are surrounded by arms, all of us mashed together.

"Bell, if you ever do anything to scare me like that again, I swear I'm going to pull out all my hair," Xavier says after lots and lots of kisses and whispers of I love yous are passed around. It's actually quite a beautiful moment, even with the levity.

The only thing missing is Edward.

Peyton giggles when she finally puts together what he's said. "Xavier, you don't have any hair," she tells him and when she smiles, I see most of my Peyton back again.

I breathe a sigh of relief and the relief grows even more when my skin begins to tingle.

"Got room for me in that love fest?" Edward asks. The caramel turtle voice is slightly rougher than normal, but still as sinfully soothing as ever.

"Nah, we're good like this, man," Seth taunts and proceeds to squeeze us all even closer together.

Edward steps closer and when our eyes meet, his whole body practically folds in on itself. Peyton wiggles out from between the tangle of arms and crawls over the bed … and me to get to him. She nearly throws herself off the edge at him before Xavier stops her. She doesn't have to wait for long to get to him though, because he immediately stretches his arms out and brings us both to him, pressed up tightly against his chest.

"Peyton," he breathes out and ever so gently kisses her forehead. His eyes slide closed and I see one tear fall down his battered cheek. Then, I feel his lips against my forehead and in a voice barely louder than the sound of butterfly wings comes, "Bella." There's a hand, then another on the back of my head, on the back of Peyton's then Edward's before there are footsteps retreating then the click of the door as it closes behind Seth and Xavier, leaving just the three of us to heal.

~~~~OOO~~~~OOO ~~~~

"Baby, are you ready to go?" I hang my apron up in the closet in the kitchen at The Breakers and turn to look at her, chuckling when I see she's already nodding her head and bouncing up and down.

"I've been waiting for this all day." She sighs dramatically and then reaches for my hand so she can drag me toward the door. "Bye, Xavier! I'll bring you and Seth back a treat." She waves at him when he looks over at her.

Xav walks over and swoops her up into a big hug and kisses her on the cheek. "Make sure it's a good one, Pipsqueak. Seth hasn't let me have any treats at all lately." He mock pouts.

He's laying it on thick, but of course my daughter promises him an extra special treat, to which he responds with a loud, "Heck yeah!"

I let out a content sigh. It's so, so nice to feel like things are back to normal.

"Up you go." I tickle her as she climbs into the backseat of Cherry. By the time I'm situated behind the steering wheel, she's already buckled in, scowling as always when I look at her in the rear view mirror.

When the day comes that she doesn't have to ride in the back, I swear she's going to want to throw a party ... complete with a bonfire so she can watch her booster seat go up in flames.

Once we get on the road and out of Corea, though it only takes a few minutes, two turns and that's all it takes, I find a radio station that we can both listen to. Neither of us say anything for a while, both seeming to just enjoy being in the same space and being able to feel close to each other.

It feels like it's been ages since it's been just the two of us and I miss my little girl.

"Can I get a McFlurry with my dinner?" she asks suddenly.

Nice to see what's important to my daughter. I chuckle and nod my head. "Yep, as long as you eat all your chicken nuggets AND you get apple slices instead of fries," I warn with a lift of my eyebrow.

She huffs but grins. "That's fine. Can I get a large instead of a small?" Such the little wheeler dealer she is.

"No. I'm pretty sure you'll finagle a treat or two while we're at the store."

At this she turns her head to look out the window, though I can see the grin she tries to hide from me.

We spend the short almost hour-long drive talking about absolutely nothing that would make sense to anyone but the two of us. As each mile goes by and each minute passes I can feel our bond strengthen. It's not as if there's been any sort of problem, save for Edward almost dying and a raving maniac stalking us, but I need this alone time with her more than I even realized. Sure we read together every night, but as often as it's just the two of us, there are as many times that Edward joins, too, sprawled out across the foot of her much too small bed for three people ... and a puppy. I don't mind sharing her, I really don't, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't crave the abundance of one on one time that we used to spend together.

Being the vivacious little girl she is, she needs everyone else, I realize this, even though there's a tiny part of me that always wants to be the most important person in her life. It was only her and me for such a long time, it's kind of hard to come to terms with the fact I have to share that title ... even if it is with the love of my life. Sure Xavier and Seth have been by my side, Rose and Em and my parents, too, but when I made the decision to get my house and be on my own with my daughter, it was me that stayed up at night pacing when she got sick. It was me that made sure her teeth were brushed, even the back ones she so often tried to skip. It was me that taught her to love losing yourself in a book and letting your imagination take you all the way to Never Neverland.

Though, honestly speaking, if I have to share her, I suppose there could be worse people to share her with than Edward.

I chuckle at my ridiculous thought and shrug my shoulders when Peyton looks at me like I've just sprouted wings. Thankfully I spy Wal-Mart off to the right and her mind immediately focuses on the task at hand. She's been fretting about her class Valentine's Day party for a week now, so much so she even made a list of candy she wanted to pass out … and listed the pros and cons for each.

Who knew a third grade party could cause such distress?

I think it's sweet and cute she's so worried about it; Edward not so much. Especially when he overheard Peyton ask me what kind of candy I thought Brody would like better – Nerds or Peanut M&Ms.

"I don't know which ones to get," Peyton woefully says as we stand in the middle of the Valentine aisle. Pink and red and hearts and cupids and stuffed teddy bears with bellies that say "Be Mine" across the front spill from the shelves. Box after box of cards tempt her and she painstakingly looks at each one, reading the messages on the cards, studying the pictures. She picks each package up, scrunches her nose while she deliberates, then sets it back down only to move on down the line.

I can't hurry her because, Lord help me if she doesn't pick the right one; it would be a travesty of epic proportions. Plague and pestilence, the end of the world epic ... at least as far as my seven-year-old is concerned.

Knowing I'm tempting fate but doing it anyway, I pull out a box and show her. "How about this one? It would be good for boys and girls."

She rolls her eyes heavenward and I can see her silently asking above to grant her patience before she looks at me. "Ugh, Mom! I can't give out Wizard's of Waverly Place ... that's what Madison said she was going to give. I can't do the same as her!"

Like I said, end of the world.

After what seems like hours she's finally satisfied with her choice of Harry Potter for the girls and Star Wars for the boys ... only because the special Valentine is Yoda and he was Brody's favorite. Apparently what Brody likes is the determining factor of Nerds over M&M's, too. She informs me that he doesn't like chocolate and thinks Fun Dips are lame.

Who knew?

We take a few more minutes while she picks out some goodies for everyone else, including a bright green stuffed frog complete with a rose in its mouth for Xavier and his favorite chocolate covered cherries. She grabs some cards for them all and treats to go along with it. She's making Edward a homemade card, in fact she's been working on it for over a week now, but she did pick out his favorite Junior Mints. I grab a box of caramel turtles for myself … I can't help it.

Once we're done at the store, and Peyton does indeed get a few treats for herself, the little stinker, it's time for dinner at McDonald's. Peyton keeps her word and gets apple slices instead of fries with her chicken nuggets. I figure I should be a good mom and lead by example so I get a grilled chicken sandwich, an iced tea and well, I get fries, but only because I know I'll share with Peyton.

We find a spot in the back corner of the restaurant, away from the play area that she insists she's way too old for and start eating. I have to admit, sometimes there's nothing better than French fries from McDonald's. No wonder Mom is such an addict.

"When you and Edward get married, do I have to call him dad?" she asks in the middle of crunching on an apple and takes me totally by surprise. I choke on my drink and gape at her.

"Peyton," is all I can manage to say to which she just stares back at me like I'm the one that's dropped a bomb in the middle of dinner.

She cocks her head to the side and huffs when I don't answer. Apparently choking half to death and shocking me so badly my heart's stopped isn't reason enough not to answer her. "Well?" she asks.

"Baby," I say then take a deep breath, thinking that I honestly must have the world's strangest, smartest, most unique daughter. "What on Earth made you ask that question?" I ask, starting there. I can see that this is a talk that's probably well overdue. It's not anything I haven't thought of already, mind you, but I certainly never imagined having it in the middle of a McDonald's of all places … and without talking to Edward first.

She shrugs. "Dunno. Just wondering I guess. I saw all those Valentines at the store and some said to Daddy on them and I just got to thinking. Don't you want to marry Edward?"

I take another deep breath and buy myself a little bit of time by gathering all the trash and piling it on the tray. She holds her McFlurry and takes a sip. I can feel her swing her leg back and forth beneath the table, like she doesn't have a care in the world, or that she hasn't just knocked me for a hell of a loop.

How do I answer her?

Edward and I have used the words forever and always. I know both of us have no intention of being without the other, ever. He loves me, loves Peyton, and we're a family. It's what we all want, even if it hasn't been voiced out loud in concrete terms. After everything that's happened, it doesn't make much sense to wait for the inevitable.

Edward's accident, Wayne's murder, what happened with Aleksei, all of it has taught me that life can change in an instant, most of the time when you least expect it.

"P, you know I love Edward very much," I begin slowly, watching her from across the table. She looks at me expectantly and I can tell it's taking a lot of effort to not wave her hand to indicate I need to keep going. "Marriage is a big deal, but Edward and I haven't known each other very long. There are people that have been together for years and years and still aren't married."

I'm dying, drowning and as irrational as it is, I'm pissed that Edward isn't here with me. At least we'd be going down together.

Peyton just stares at me with a totally blank look on her face as she waits for me to go on. I pick at the napkin between my hands trying to decide how to explain something that up until a few months ago when a man on a motorcycle rumbled into town, I never expected to have.

"Baby, I don't know how to answer you," I forge ahead. I've always been honest with her, no point in changing that now. "I want to spend the rest of my life with Edward and I want us to be a family. We don't have to be married in order for that to happen, but I can't say that I don't want it ... and I'm pretty sure he does, too." At that she blatantly rolls her eyes and then giggles when I try to glare at her. "Fine," I huff, blowing some wayward hair out of my face, "I know he does, too. Just give us some time, Peyton. Things have been kind of crazy lately, you know?" We both laugh at that knowing nothing could be any more of an understatement. The fact that we can laugh about it now seems to lessen the horror of it all.

It's not like we'll ever forget it, but I damn sure am not living, nor allowing Peyton or Edward to live every day dwelling on it all.

"Well, just so you know, I don't think I want to call Edward dad," she states emphatically. She slurps the rest of her McFlurry through her straw, making an obnoxiously loud noise as she tries to get every last drop ... like she's never going to have another one.

I try not to let my face show my surprise ... or my immediate reaction of disappointment. It's not for me, but for Edward because I know how much he loves Peyton.

"Why's that?" I ask quietly and I really hope she can't tell how upset I am because inside my heart is breaking for him. He'll be devastated.

She looks off and wrinkles her nose while she thinks, obviously unaware that I'm on the brink of breaking down. "Well," she draws the word out, "I think it's really cool that Edward is my best friend and when you guys get married that would mean he's like my step-dad, right, even though my real father is in heaven?" I nod silently and she continues. I shouldn't be so stunned that she can be so blasé while mentioning Evan, but I am.

I swallow and try to force down the emotion I need to keep at bay so I can finish this conversation. Thinking I'll tackle the easy part of her question first, I tell her, "Yes, if Edward and I got married, he would be your step-dad, technically at least." I'm sure to add that qualifier to the end of my statement because there is no doubt in my mind that Edward is Peyton's dad. Evan will always be her father, no matter how much time has passed, but I know from the bottom of my heart he would want me to be happy with Edward and give her the family, the dad, she needs.

She nods her head like she's okay with what I've just said and sits quietly for a few minutes. I know my girl; she's digesting, turning things over and over in her mind while she processes. It's just the way she works. I wait until it looks like I have her attention again and then ask the question that I'm not entirely sure I want the answer to, especially if that answer is going to break Edward's heart. "Peyton," I say softly, "don't you want Edward to be your dad … not a step-dad but just dad?"

Her answer won't change anything, not really. I know she adores him to the moon and back and I know that whatever she tells me now might not be the way she feels next month or next year, and maybe not even tomorrow. But, she started this discussion, so it's apparent it's been on her mind.

"Well, yeah," she answers immediately and looks at me like I just asked her if Tom Brady is her favorite football player. "But," and then she smiles, as if she's remembered a long lost secret, or I just told her she'd never have to eat a vegetable again. "He's also just Edward." She huffs, frustrated, and I can tell she's having trouble getting out what she wants to say.

I reach across the table and take her hand, and right away she turns our hands over so she can draw circles on the palm of my hand like she's done almost her whole life. "It's okay, baby. Just say whatever you want. You know you don't ever have to worry about what you can tell me."

"He's just … I mean … " She sighs then twists her mouth and blows out a puff of air. "Besides you, he's my most favorite person in the whole wide world. And he's mine." She shakes her head and I squeeze her hand so she'll keep going. My hearts practically bursting from my chest and I really want to scoop her up and kiss her all over her perfect, adorable, sweet face, but I know she needs to get this off her chest.

"I mean, I know he's your boyfriend, though that really sounds kinda dumb if you ask me, but he was mine first. I love Xav and Seth and Jasper and Uncle Emmett and Pop, but Edward is just … well, Edward, and calling him dad, even though I know that's what he'll be doesn't sound right. I don't love Edward more … I just love him different. That's okay, right? You won't tell Xavier and Uncle Emmett Edward's my favorite will you?"

She looks truly worried so instead of laughing like I want to, I simply say, "Of course not. Your secret's safe with me."

I pull her from the booth and wrap my arm around her shoulder. Pulling her close to me, I lean down and kiss the top of her head. "For what it's worth, baby, I think you should always call Edward, Edward. Just now if you want to call him dad sometimes, well, that would be okay, too."

She grins up at me. "You know you just admitted you were going to marry Edward, don't you?"

I don't even dignify that with an answer.

I send Edward a text as soon as we get on the road to go home. I know Peyton and I needed this and I know he needs to spend time with the guys, but I'd be a lying fool if I didn't say I was anxious to get home to him. I miss him.

Things have certainly calmed down and everything is blessedly, thankfully normal. Walking into my house a few days after everything happened had been a test, but it was a test Edward, Peyton, and I all passed with flying colors. Well, for the most part.

Jasper and Alice, once they were able to get inside, had cleaned everything up … including the blood on the floor. For a teeny tiny moment while I was in the hospital, I thought about never returning to my house, but as soon as that thought came, I pushed it away. There was no way in hell I was letting that maniac take away my home, the place that my daughter had grown up and the place where the three of us were becoming a family. No way at all. Jasper and Alice had replaced the broken furniture and door, cleaned up the mess I'd left in the bathroom, and made it so if you didn't know any better, you'd never be able to tell that a gun was fired there … that someone died there. Edward and I watched as Peyton looked around the room, with Brady in her arms, with her nose scrunched up and her head tilted to the side. She spun around in a circle and didn't let one inch go without an intense inspection. After a moment she'd merely grunted and shrugged her shoulder, remarking, "I like that lamp better than the old one."

Edward chuckled beside me and muttered a soft but loving "damn" under his breath before flashing me a sexy, lopsided smirk and very satisfied crook of an eyebrow. "She's fucking amazing," is all he said before pulling me farther inside the living room.

It wasn't quite as easy for me and even less so for Edward to not let being in that room get the best of us, but with every day that passes, it gets a little easier. Mom, Esme, Rose, and Alice descended upon Peyton and me one night after we'd only been home a few days for a "girls night" when all the guys kidnapped Edward to go to Finn's to watch a football game.

The night was fantastic, even if I had to soak my toes in nail polish remover to get the God-awful mauvey-purple color off them after they left and replaced it with navy blue. We laughed and watched total girl movies, ate popcorn mixed with M&M's, and drank more than a few bottles of wine … well, everyone but Peyton. We talked and cried a little when I told them how Edward was coping with Aleksei finally being gone from his life and how much the support of everyone meant to him. Carlisle of course was his rock, but Dad, Jasper, and Seth who was always there to offer much-needed comedic relief, helped him every bit as much. We talked about how I was dealing with it all, which when I really thought about it, was pretty well all things considered. Peyton had moments when she got scared or confused, and those times always brought things rushing back to the surface, but all in all, I think all of us, and I do mean all, were moving on and letting the things that weren't important go.

Rose and Alice cornered me in the kitchen to ask about making Edward a permanent roommate instead of just a most of the time one. It's something we both want. Now that there isn't anything else in our way, I hope it happens sooner rather than later. I think Peyton wants it more than the two of us put together.

I chuckle and look at her in the mirror. Her head's tilted to the side and her little tongue is poking out of her mouth while she sleeps and I feel my heart grow inside my chest. Sighing, I take a moment to silently give thanks that out of all this mess we've only gotten stronger, closer. I know what I want and I know I'll have it.

My phone vibrates right as we enter into town, as if he can feel us getting closer to home. I smile at the thought. Feeling my heart race just a little and between my legs warm a lot I glance at the screen.

I miss you! Hurry home, I'm waiting …

I don't need to be told twice.

~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~

The next few days fly by. Of course the Valentine's Day party at school is a big hit. Peyton rushes to The Breakers after school, bursting through the door like the building is on fire. She's waving a pink, sparkly, frilly Valentine in the air as if it was sideline passes to the Super Bowl ... and she's going to meet Tom Brady.

"Mom! Aunt Rose! Alice," she shrieks as she rushes toward us with Lucy hot on her heels. Her backpack slides down her arm and she flings it onto a table and then skids to a stop in front of us, panting, but with a smile a mile wide. "Look!" Bouncing up and down she thrusts a hot pink envelope toward us.

I take it from her hand and can't help but giggle when I look at the outside. It's decorated with hand-drawn hearts, so lopsided they look more like blobs, but inside the hearts are little messages, mimicking the real thing. "Be Mine" "You're Sweet" "My Girl" cover the envelope.

"Oh God. I'm dying." Rose giggles in my ear and Alice shakes beside me.

"Hurry, open it!" Peyton orders and then whispers excitedly to Lucy beside her.

Inside is a Valentine. It's obviously from the package he got to hand out to everyone else, but because it's bigger than normal, it's definitely the 'special' one. It's just a picture of SpongeBob with some silly saying in a little bubble beside his head, but the fact the Brody gave the card to her in a special envelope he hand-decorated on top of giving her the 'special one' indeed makes this a very big deal.

My little girl's growing up, I think with a sigh and a sad shake of my head.

"Baby, this is so pretty," I tell her and die a little inside when she takes it back with a dreamy look on her face. She's way too young for this, but first crushes are a big deal in the life of a little girl, even if she is my baby.

"What else did you get?" Rose asks and peeks inside Peyton's goodie bag. I know my sister-in-law; she's on the hunt for chocolate. Rose can sniff out chocolate better than a bloodhound can find a bone.

Her niece apparently knows her aunt very well and reaches inside the bag and drops a few brightly-wrapped Hershey's kisses into her palm before she grabs Lucy and drags her to a table far away in the corner of the restaurant.

Girl talk, from the looks of the hushed whispers and glances in our direction. Us old people, I chuckle as I look at Alice and Rose, are assuredly not welcome.

We keep watching the girls who are completely in their own little world. The restaurant is slow but the dinner rush will be starting soon, which means it's almost time for my favorite dinner companion to walk through the door. Just about the time I think that, two arms slide around my waist and a chin appears on my shoulder.

After a quick but much welcomed kiss to the side of my neck, he says, "Sprite sure looks happy. Guess she had a good time at the party, huh?"

I chuckle. "Babe, that smile is all due to Brody. He gave P the special Valentine." I emphasize the word special a little more than necessary and then turn when I hear him growl in the back of his throat.

I try not to laugh when I see his face, but I can't help it. He looks so pathetic, complete with a bottom lip that sticks out and a frown on his gorgeous face. "But I wanted to give her the special Valentine," he whines. He huffs and crosses his arms. "I hate that kid."

"Hush, you. Look how happy she is," I say and then step closer to him. I nudge his feet apart and stand between his legs. I'm pressed so close to him he has no choice but to rest against the side of a table which is just fine with me. All the better to get as close as possible. I raise my arms and wrap them around his neck, giggling when he pouts one last time in Peyton's direction before looking at me.

"Shouldn't I be the one that gets your special Valentine?" I ask and turn the tables on him by pouting ... and I know from the look on his face that I've got his attention.

Perfect.

I should feel bad for messing with him, but I don't. I won't let him dangle on the hook for too long, but it's so hard sometimes to resist teasing him. He dishes it out like no one's business; he needs to learn how to take it.

"If not, then maybe I need to rethink your Valentine's Day present," I taunt as I smirk at him.

Poor thing, standing there with his mouth hanging wide open and looking like … well, like someone just stole Brady.

He narrows his eyes at me. "You wouldn't." He tries to make it sound like he's all sure of himself, but that little bit of a question that ekes out at the end is a dead giveaway.

I giggle at him and place my hands on his cheeks. "No, I most definitely would not. This weekend is going to be one you won't ever forget," I tell him softly and with much feeling. The air around us decidedly changes from light and sweet to hot and steamy.

"Christ, I can't fucking wait to have you all to myself for two whole days." He groans right before kissing me until I'm breathless.

Yeah, it's going to be some weekend.

~~~~OOO~~~~~OOO~~~~~

We leave town on Friday afternoon after trading vehicles with my mom and dropping off Peyton and Brady with Jasper and Alice. Every year for Valentine's Day, my dad always arranges it so that he, Emmett, and Jasper get to do something nice for Mom, Rose, and Alice. In the past, one weekend he and whoever else is working on the Isabella Marie at the time takes off and the next he lets Em and Jasper have off. He's always said that Valentine's Day is the one time of year to spoil their wives and girlfriends and to show them how much they appreciate how much they give up to support them. I have to say, it's nice to be a part of the planning for a change.

The four and a half hour trip passes by quickly. I let Edward drive even though I have to give him directions a few times, much to his consternation. I took charge and planned this whole weekend, a fact of which he doesn't seem to mind at all … not knowing exactly how to get where we're going he doesn't like so much.

I follow Edward and John, the owner of Bear Mountain Inn, into our room and breathe out a huge sigh of relief when he turns to look at me and says, "Bella, this place is fucking incredible."

I snicker a little and then peek over at John. I shrug my shoulders, hoping that he's heard much worse than Edward's language. When he grins at me, I know it's all good. I slide his tip in his hand and then close the door behind him.

Edward's standing in front of the wall of windows and I can see his reflection in the glass. The sky is an inky black and there are so many stars out that they look like golden sprinkles. He's taken his jacket off and thrown it on the back of the sofa that's facing the stone fireplace. In the glass I can see his face, thankful that most traces of what happened have faded.

I want this weekend to be about us and only us.

I throw my jacket on top of his and then walk forward. I slide my arms around his waist and press a kiss in the center of his shoulder blades. He places his hands over mine and links our fingers together. "Seriously, baby, this is all so great."

Stepping forward, I lean my hips against his ass and purposely rub my chest against his back. I can feel his chest rumble and it makes my already hardening nipples tighten and peak even more. I move our joined hands down his body and press against the bulge that's already formed beneath his jeans.

Standing up on my tiptoes so I can reach, I whisper in his ear, "Babe, you haven't seen anything yet."

He turns around and drapes his arms across my back. He lets his hands fall over my ass and he pulls until we're chest to chest. "Is that so?" he whispers when he lowers his head. His nose nuzzles along the outside of my ear and when he reaches the top, I feel his teeth gently tug on the silver ball that never, ever, fails to drive him crazy.

My voice catches in my throat when I feel his tongue curl around the earring, not to mention when he slides his knee between mine and his hard cock is pressed against my thigh. "Ah ... oh ... yes, that's so ..." I pant, unable to keep going when he moves from the stud to my earlobe. He nips with his teeth, hard enough to make me hiss, but in pleasure not pain.

"I still can't believe you did all this," he mumbles. He's moved from my ear to my neck and I tilt my head to give him free reign. I melt against him as his teeth, tongue, and lips feast on the sensitive skin. It feels so damned good and I can't help but rub my nipples across his chest. The sound that escapes from his mouth curls the toes in my boots ... rough, deep, and so fucking sexy.

I wind my fingers in his hair and grind my hips against his. "I wanted to do something special for you, to show you how much I love you." I kiss him deeply and hope he can feel, tell, how true my words are.

He spins us and then walks backward until the glass stops us from going any further. The cold from outside causes me to gasp and my skin to break out in goosebumps. When he lifts my hands above my head, holding them both in one of his, and aligns his body with mine, there isn't any cold to be found.

My body ignites, especially when I see the hunger in his eyes.

"I think I should get right to work on showing my appreciation." He lowers his head. With his free hand he begins unbuttoning my shirt, taking time to show his adoration of every inch of skin that's slowly exposed as he opens one after the other after the other.

"You're so fucking beautiful." He moans when he pushes the shirt down my shoulders. His mouth is everywhere: across my collarbones, the hollow of my throat, the swell of my breast, down to the thin, tender skin right above the waist of my jeans.

Then he moves back up again, taking his time to pay his proper respects to the areas he missed before … and the ones covered by the bra he's now removed.

He stands up, making a hot, wet trail with his tongue up the center of my chest to behind my ear. As the air cools my skin, I shiver, though it might be because he's breathing in my ear and he knows how crazy that makes me. He lowers my hands, placing them on either side of my body and slides his fingers between mine. "Come on," he urges once he releases the sensitive flesh behind my ear. "I've got lots more thanking to do." He smirks, walking backward to the large bedroom.

Once a few hours pass, and after a long, hot shower, we walk back out to the living room, donning the red, fluffy robes that we found hanging on the back of the bathroom door. The suite is spectacular, even more luxurious than the pictures from the website led me to believe. On a glass plate beside a bucket containing a bottle of chilled Champagne are six of the most delectable-looking chocolate covered strawberries I've ever seen in my life.

I went all out for this getaway. Edward would die if he knew how much it cost, but I don't care. He needs this … we need it and I feel no qualms in indulging and splurging on every amenity offered. It's Valentine's Day weekend, so of course the cliché factor is going to be amped up, but what the hell.

Giggling while he struggles to get the top off the Champagne bottle, I take another moment to look around the room. Really, the entire space is so nice it's almost a shame to leave. I have big plans for us though, but make a mental note to myself that at some point during the next two days we will make use of the very plush throw rug on the floor in front of the fireplace.

Most assuredly.

"Here, baby," Edward says, handing me a glass of bubbly Champagne. He tilts his glass toward mine and we toast. "To the first weekend of many, I hope." His normal caramel turtle voice is decidedly gruffer as our glasses clink against the other. Our eyes meet over the flutes and time seems to stand still for a moment while we lose ourselves in each other.

He takes a sip then smacks his lips, clearly enjoying the taste. "I'm so fucking happy to be here with you." Almost shyly, he lowers his eyes, then lifts them. His gray-green eyes are so intense as he stares at me and my breath catches in my throat. "It seems almost like a dream being with you like this, Bella."

"For me, too," I reply back.

He stretches an arm out and curls his index finger around mine. He pulls me with him as he leads us to the snow white-colored couch. Once he sets our flutes down on the rustic, wooden table in front of the sofa, he drags me backward so that his legs and arms completely surround my body.

Sweet then not so sweet kisses begin and then sweet and not so sweet words are interspersed between. By the time the entire bottle of Champagne is gone, my entire body, and especially the spot between my legs aches in the most delicious of ways.

Tomorrow's treat is sure going to come in handy.

We sleep in late, so late we almost miss the extravagant breakfast in the great room. I make sure and tell Edward to put his boots and heavy socks on because once we eat, I want to go for a walk around the grounds of the inn. As we sip on mimosas, we hold hands across the table while we wait for our food.

"Look how gorgeous it is out there," he whispers in awe and he points toward the ever-present windows with his chin.

He's right though. It looks like a postcard outside. Trees covered with what looks like dollops of whipped cream. The snow sparkles from the sunlight, shooting prisms of color every which way. Every now and then a squirrel bounds across the lawn, marring the almost perfect blanket of white.

"It is beautiful," I agree, without looking at him.

He tightens his hold on my hand and waits until I look at him. "It's not as beautiful as you." His voice is like melted chocolate mixed with little bits of buttery toffee. Smooth, rich, with just enough grit to remind you that it's different.

Honestly, I don't even notice how different Edward's voice sounds anymore, but it always makes me chuckle a bit when someone hears him speak for the first time. It's not an odd sound at all, but when you look at him, the rough, almost scratchy voice that comes out of his mouth is not what you'd expect.

Our food comes and unfortunately eating with one hand is not something either one of us is all too proficient at, so we let go of each other. Breakfast takes a long time only because we don't stop talking. This is just what I wanted … well, besides us being naked for extended periods of time … when I planned this trip. He tells me stories about his grandparents and about growing up in Boston. He tells me about the baseball games his grandpa took him to and the museums he and his grandmother would get lost in for hours and hours. About his parents, the few things he can remember about them, like what his mother used to read to him before he went to bed at night and how he and his dad used to build model airplanes together on the weekends.

With each part of himself that he shares with me, more and more of him becomes part of me. Like those bottles of colored sand. When you first get them, you can see individual colors, but as you tip the bottle back and forth, the colors meld together until it all becomes absorbed. No beginning, no end, nothing separating the colors at all.

I want every piece of him. Every memory. Every scar. Every tear he's cried for the people he's lost. Every pain he's ever suffered. Every smile. Every laugh. Every everything.

I want it and I want to give it all in return.

The walk outside is fantastic … until Edward decides that it's perfectly normal to throw the love of your life in a snowdrift taller than his head. Up until then we walked, talked, and even rode a sled down the huge hills that line the property. The space is so wide open that even though the inn is almost fully booked, it's like we're the only ones here. Once we're both so cold our lips have turned blue we head back inside for hot chocolate by the fireplace in the Gathering Room. Here we do see other couples escaping to the beautiful inn for a romantic weekend, but still, we stay locked inside our Edward/Bella bubble.

"Come on. I have something special planned for us this afternoon," I tell him as I unwrap myself from his side.

Standing up, I grab his hands and pull him up. Luckily for me, he decides to be a good boy and comes willingly. The smirk on his face tells me what he hopes my surprise is; too bad he's wrong.

"It's not that." I giggle when his eyebrows dip from his too adorable frown. "I do promise you'll enjoy your surprise though."

He sighs quite over-dramatically but he lets me lead him to our room. Once we're inside I tell him to strip and have to remind him, again, that what he wants is not what I have planned … at least not until later. We both put our robes on, though it takes a Herculean effort on my part to resist straddling him on the couch and having my way with him. Just when I'm about to give in, there's a knock on the door and I climb off his lap.

The couples massage I arranged is a huge hit judging from the soft moans and long, slow breaths Edward lets out. The soft music playing in the background coupled with the scent of the massage oil and the feel of Edward's pinky wrapped around mine makes the hour-long treat pass in a warm, fuzzy haze.

"That was so amazing," he whispers as he leads us to the shower once the masseuses have gone. "I've never had a massage before," he admits. The warm water flows over us and for the next twenty minutes we don't say very much … but we don't need to.

"Bella, hurry up, we're going to be late," he reminds me, trying to be sweet, a little bit later through the door of the huge bedroom.

I chance a quick glance at the clock and feel my stomach drop all the way to my toes. "Shit," I mutter and take a deep breath. For some reason I'm so nervous about tonight. Not that I think Edward's going to try to be predictably romantic and drop down on one knee or anything, at least he'd damned well better not, but this is the first time he's ever seen me dressed up this much or we've been anywhere this formal.

I squeeze my legs together at the thought of Edward in dress pants and a dress shirt.

"Ugh, Bella, you so don't have time for this," I scold myself and then turn and face the bed where my red dress is spread out.

I pick it up and let out a soft sigh when the soft, smooth fabric slides down my body. It feels like a cool breeze as it moves around me when I bend over to slip the strappy silver sandals on. I put my earrings in and debate for half a second about taking out the little ball at the top of my ear, before deciding it might send Edward into convulsions if it was gone. A light spray of perfume and quick run of my fingers in my hair, and I'm ready to go … if I don't faint first.

I open the door and step out into the living room, halting my steps the instant I see him. He's facing away from me, dressed in black from head to foot. I take another step and the soft swish of my dress catches his attention and causes him to whip his head around. His eyes widen, his jaw hangs open, he sucks in a huge breath, and his hands curl into tight fists against his thighs.

Exactly the reaction I was hoping for, I think, giving myself a silent high five.

"I've never … fucking hell, Bella, you take my breath away," he whispers after he swallows a few times.

It takes a few minutes to leave the room, only because we can't stop telling the other how good they look, and arrive at the restaurant downstairs with just a few minutes to spare. When our name is called and we follow the maĩtre ď to our table, I can't help but bask in Edward's presence. Not wanting to let go of him at all, I cling to his arm and smile as people glance in our direction as we pass them.

We look so good together.

Dinner is amazing. The wine, the food, the atmosphere … the man. "I love you," I say softly. The words float across the table before I even notice I've said them. They're always on the tip of my tongue, always on my mind, and always in my heart. Sometimes I wonder if I say them too much, worry that they'll lose their meaning and other times I wonder if I don't say them enough, like if don't tell him every hour of every day, he'll forget.

But sometimes, like just now, they're the only words I want to say.

"I love you, too." The candlelight dances across his face, hiding behind the slope of his nose and the stubble that covers his jaw. I haven't been able to take my eyes off him all night. I have noticed, however, that most of the females in the room can't help but stare at him, some longer than is appropriate.

"I was thinking," I begin a little nervously. I didn't get him a gift, well besides the weekend away, but what I'm about to tell him is something I know he wants. Almost as much as Peyton does, and maybe even more than I do. "When we go home tomorrow, how about you don't go back to the boarding house," I say, not being as direct as I probably should be.

He chuckles and takes a sip of his wine. "I kinda planned on spending the night with you, Bella."

I run my finger around the rim of my glass and smile at him. "I mean ever."

It takes a few seconds for my words to register and my heart stops and starts about five times as he blinks, slowly, repeatedly. A slight shake of his head and then a drop dead, heart-stopping, smile spreads across his face.

"Yeah?" he breathes.

His nostrils flare as he sucks in large gulps of air when I whisper, "Yes."

"Check please," he says to our waiter.

We fall through the door in a tangle of arms and legs, our lips never leaving the others. I try to pull away, so I can drag him to the bedroom, or the sofa, or the floor, or even the wall, when he yanks me to a stop.

"Oh no you don't," he says in a silky, deep voice. He spins me around, my back to his chest, and he presses his hips against mine. "I've let you lead all weekend so far. Now it's my turn. You look so fucking gorgeous in this dress but I want to see what you have on underneath. Dress. Off. Now … but leave the shoes," he demands then runs his nose down the column of my neck.

He steps back just enough so I can push the dress off my shoulders. My heart slams against my chest as it falls into a pool of red that swirls by my feet.

"Oh, fuck," I hear him breathe out when he takes in the tiny pair of red silk panties I chose specifically hoping to get that reaction.

Knowing that he's behind me, staring, hungry … hard for me sets me on fire. Heat pools, in my cheeks, my stomach, and most definitely between my legs. I don't turn around, even though my body is screaming for him. My skin prickles with goosebumps from the heat of his gaze as he drinks me in. I hear the rustle of his shirt as he unbuttons it, the sound of his belt as it jingles when it hits the floor, the sound of his shoes as they thump when he kicks them off.

Heat radiates from him when he's behind me once more. He presses warm, open-mouthed kisses from one shoulder to the other, lavishing extra attention to the spot behind each ear. His warm breath fans over my already heated skin and it's almost hard to breathe.

"Do you have any idea how gorgeous and sexy you are? How over dinner it was all I could do not to throw you down on our table and fuck you so hard the table would break beneath us?" His teeth bite into my shoulder, not so hard that it hurts, but hard enough that it will leave a mark. "I love you more than my own life, Bella, but right now, I want to fuck you so badly and make you scream my name until you can't make another sound."

All sense of rational thought immediately leaves my brain and all I'm capable of is a hoarse whisper of, "Oh, God."

He chuckles, dark and sultry, and my knees go weak. I can feel moisture drip down my thighs from his words alone.

"I'm going to make you come so many times. On my fingers," he rasps as his hand covers my pussy. "On my tongue so that even tomorrow I'll still be able to taste you."

He flicks his tongue at my earlobe and when his teeth bite the flesh, my fingers dig into his thighs so hard I worry I draw blood. "And of course on my cock while I fuck you over and over and over again," and with that, two fingers are plunged inside of me.

"Yes, oh God … ah … " I moan as his fingers expertly work me into a writhing, panting mess. "So good, yes." Wantonly, I ride his fingers, rocking and taking until my legs tense and I teeter on the heels I still have on.

"Mmmm, that's it, baby. Fuck my fingers and come." His voice slides over me, saturating my skin like a fine mist. I'm so close. I tremble so much I have to reach an arm up and wrap it around his neck to hang on. "So fucking hot." He groans as he rests his chin on my shoulder, giving him the perfect view to watch his fingers moving in and out of my pussy.

"I'm going to … oh please," I beg, stretching my body against his.

"Open wider. Spread your legs," he commands and nudges the backs of my knees with his. I do as he orders and when he presses his thumb against my swollen, sensitive clit, I breathe his name repeatedly.

He holds me to him with his hand splayed over my stomach. "Good girl," he praises, circling, pushing, teasing me right to the brink. The hand on my stomach lifts and when he pinches my nipple between his fingers, I feel it all the way down to my throbbing pussy. In and out, around, down, and over his fingers move in the most delicious, aching, perfect rhythm. Words fall from his mouth, his tongue warm and wet along my neck, his fingers inside of me all work until I fall completely apart, screaming his name.

The couch, the floor in front of the fireplace, the wall by the bedroom all serve as the perfect backdrop while he makes come so many times I lose count … until hours later we find ourselves in the deep, claw-footed tub in the bathroom.

"You feel so good like that," he murmurs almost sleepily as he rolls his hips and hits that perfect spot deep inside of me.

He leaves one hand on my hip and with the other takes my hair and lays it all over one shoulder. We gently rock, letting the warm, scented water do most of the work. Slow and gentle this time but every bit as intense as before.

"I can't wait to move in with you, go to bed with you every night, and wake up wrapped around you every morning," he says against the warm skin of my neck.

My head falls forward when he thrusts inside of me. "Me, too," is all I'm able to say as the coil twists tighter in my stomach. "More," I tell him a few moments later as I continue to move up and down along his shaft.

"Like this?" he asks, lifting as he pulls me down, knowing damned good and well just like that.

"Mmmm," I slur, lost in heat and steam and him.

Closer, closer, until the bliss is right … there.

"I'm going to marry you one day, Bella," he whispers.

~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~