Been trying to post this for two days now. Blasted website wouldn't let me upload. Sigh...

STAR II

I realize pretty quickly that this isn't exactly the best conversation to be having in the middle of a crowded dance floor. Especially not when Edward's family is only twenty feet away. I like them, and they like me. But being that they're his family and all, they probably like him more.

Okay, and they outnumber me.

Grabbing my baffling would-be lover by the sleeve, I drag him off the floor and into a nearby elevator, which miraculously, despite the earlier long-ass wait, is free. Don't ask me how it's free. I don't know. I don't claim to understand the inner workings of crowd mentality and bulk people movements.

Thankfully, Edward follows me in without a word.

But what's the phrase?

Right.

Actions speak louder than words.

As I hit the button to go up, as rigid as I've ever seen him, Edward shoves his hands deep inside of his pockets and then he leans against the opposite wall.

Basically… as far away from me as he can get.

Ouch.

You know, it's amazing how much tension an elevator can hold. Seriously, it's like this weird, invisible balloon that keeps swelling and swelling and swelling, until it's squishing me against the wall. I try to regulate my breathing through a few of the techniques I picked up in yoga (which, by the way, I'm terrible at, as that bit of torture requires at least a modicum of balance, which I don't have), but it's no use. All my lungs seem to be capable of producing are these short, shallow pants that don't deliver nearly enough oxygen to the rest of me.

Meanwhile, as if pulmonary distress isn't enough, my heart is pounding against my sternum. And by pounding, I mean that. I'll probably have a bruise in the morning.

And that's from just looking at the floor.

I don't even want to think about what kind of spastic physiological reaction I'll have if I look up.

But like I mentioned before, Edward's eyes are like freaking tractor beams, and right now, even though I can't actually see them, I can feel them. Not kidding, they're practically screaming, bellowing a constant stream of, "LOOOOK AAAAT MEEEE."

Which means, of course, despite all better reasoning, I have no choice but to obey and follow the long, dark, elegant lines of his tuxedo… past the perfectly fitted waistcoat… past the hand-tied bowtie… all the way up to the magnificence that is his face.

I flinch before I can catch myself, because holy shit… The usual sparkling emerald green of Edward's irises is… gone. They're flatter and darker, more like a forest at twilight, and that's not just a figment of the low lighting either. His normally playful brows slant downward, too, and there's a deep crease running across his forehead. Really, now that I actually take a second to study, all the angles of Edward's face look sharper. And his mouth – that sinfully decadent mouth of his – is…. hard.

This expression… this is a new one for me. If I had to put a single word to it… I'd say… pissed.

Oh, yeah, that's definitely it.

Edward Cullen is pissed.

At me.

And me? I'm… well, I'm just… confused.

Not to mention this close to suffocating because my stupid lungs have now decided to revolt and quit pushing oxygen altogether. I just hope I don't pass out. Judging by that pissy expression of his, Edward might not revive me if I do.

The elevator finally dings, and the second the doors slide open, we're out of there. It's a good thing that my feet know where we're going, too, because as we head down the corridor, moving a touch faster than my heels can safely handle, my head is nowhere to be found. It might as well be at the bottom of the ocean. All I can hear or think about is the last words out of Edward's mouth.

And they make no sense!

It's like he was speaking Swahili.

It takes us less than a minute to make it to my door and once we're there, unlike the last time we scurried down this hall, my fingers are surprisingly nimble with the keycard. Could be, that this time I don't have all that distraction. Which, if we're being completely honest, is kind of a shame. Because I like Edward's distractions. A lot.

As soon as we hit the inside of my cabin, I spin around to face him. Not because I want to, because I don't.

See, while, yes, I'm great at yelling at all those asshole criminals, confrontations of the personal sort aren't really my cup of tea. I mean, why else would I have spent all those years with Jake?!

Anyway, those tractor beams are at it again and I just can't help myself. Bypassing the rest of him, my eyes shoot to his. His are still dark, but that's not all. There's this fire behind them. In any other situation, at any other time, I'd be seriously squirming. As it stands… I just fidget and try to figure out what to do with my hands.

Wow, is he pissed…

And maybe… wounded?

Nah, just pissed.

"Okay, now answer me." Edward yanks at his bowtie, tugging it loose with a single pull. It's a maneuver he does without even thinking, which says he's no stranger to dressing up. Of course, the fact that he's in full evening dress should have told me that, because how many guys even own a basic tux, let alone the full deal? Either way, I decide that if we make up from this, I'm so asking him to do that again. Unf.

"You weren't planning to see me when we got back, were you?"

I shake my head, both to clear it and to negate his query. I have no clue what he's talking about. "Get back where?!"

Edward's eyes do this weird boggling thing. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me…" With an angry rake through his hair, he wrecks any and all attempts he made at calming it. "Home!" His voice is higher than usual, rougher, too. "You know, to Seattle! Where we live."

"You don't live in Seattle!" Because he doesn't. He said he lived in Chicago!

I think.

Edward's jacket peels off next. He's not exactly coordinated when he wrenches his arms out of the sleeves, either. Evidently, he gets hot when he gets mad.

I could say so much more on that, you know, seeing as how he's hot all the time, but now's not really the time or place.

"The hell, I don't!"

He's almost yelling.

I'm almost yelling.

This is really absurd.

"You work at Northwestern Memorial. That's in Illinois, not Washington!"

Borne from days of repetition, that last bit comes out immediately and automatically, even as my brain simultaneously starts processing something very, very, very different. A split second later, my light bulb goes off, however, and that confusion and misery from before begins to morph into something a whole more like… elation. It's this crackling spark that's sitting in the pit of my stomach, threatening to make me instantly giddy.

Holy…

And I just thought my heart was pounding on the elevator. If I don't manage to slow it down, it may just pop out of my chest all Aliens-style. I tell myself not to smile, though, just in case I'm wrong.

Cause I'm not taking anything for granted.

I'm also not going to count on my powers of reasoning.

Or observation.

They've obviously failed me. Miserably.

Of course, Edward's still unaware of my little epiphany of sorts, and he's still pretty mad. And when I say pretty, I mean a lot. His fingers swipe through his hair again. "No, I don't."

And now it's his waistcoat's turn to disappear.

As an aside, I wonder if Edward always undresses like this during arguments. I think I could be on board with that.

"I work at the University of Washington Medical Center." Edward's voice loses some of its heat, and then he makes this huffing sound that screams of exasperation. I know this tone quite well since I'm usually the one giving it to all the idiots I face in court. Seriously, you wouldn't believe the people I have to deal with. He adds half a beat later, "I did my residency at Northwestern Memorial. I told you all this!"

Okay, now that's something new, and my face scrunches up. "No, you didn't!" I tell him. Except… that exclamation there on the end really comes out more like a question mark.

His jaw drops. "Yes, I did."

If it were possible, my face scrunches up even more. I probably look like a Shar Pei. "When?" And that comes out just a little louder than a squeak.

"Seriously?" Edward's delectable jaw is now beyond merely dropped. It's on the floor. As is mine. "I told you all this the night we… went dancing at the Sky Lounge. You know, the night I wound up in…" He waves at the room behind us. "Here."

I still.

And then another light bulb goes off, only this one is more like a damned floodlight, and I cover my face in absolute horror.

Holy fuck.

"I don't…" I mumble this into my palms, because my face is positively scorching. You could probably fry an egg on my cheeks. "Yeah, I don't really… remember that part."

"Well, I did."

See! I told you that I was missing some pieces from that night. And I told you that they were possibly (probably) important.

I'm never, ever drinking (neon cocktails) again.

"Hold on a minute…" Trailing off, suddenly wild-eyed, Edward glances from me, to the bed, and then back to me.

Before we go on, I feel I should point out that throughout our little… tiff, Edward's face has been turning progressively pinker. Not full blown fiery lava like mine, just pink.

But now? Now, just like on the dance floor downstairs, the pink disappears, and it goes right back to ashen. I conclude that this has to be his horrified/flabbergasted tone/look. Completing the image (and confirming my guess), when he turns back, Edward's eyes screw shut and he pinches the bridge of his nose.

Just like that emo vampire in that popular YA series, who, coincidently, is also named Edward!

Huh.

Go figure.

I don't point that out, however. I'm not sure that he would appreciate the comparison. At least not right now.

"You're telling me," Edward starts again, slowly, as if he's struggling through just how to ask me this. "You're saying that you thought that I lived… where again?"

I wince. "Chicago."

"Chicago… right." His head moves up and down, but it's not really a nod. It's more of a I can't believe this kind of motion.

"Then all this time… you've been thinking that this…" His hand flails back and forth between us, way more agitated than his speech would imply. "Was it? That all I was after was a couple of weeks?! That all that spilling my guts on the beach the other day was… an act?!"

If I weren't so mortified, I'd be impressed. Edward is a really good guesser.

His eyes do that boggling thing again. "Oh, fuck me… So when I said that I was looking forward to going home, you thought…"

"Yeah." My nose crinkles and I fidget some more. "I kinda did."

The laugh that tumbles out of Edward's mouth isn't exactly one of amusement. It sounds a lot like someone choking, which would be a bad thing since I have no idea how to do the Heimlich maneuver. "I– I don't know whether I'm insulted… or flattered." He breathes out (thankfully), and it comes out in a tired whoosh of air that puffs his cheeks up. "Okay, indulge me. Why?"

"Why what?" I may be stalling.

"If you thought that this was it… then why would you…"

Ah, right.

I should have known he'd ask the good questions. Then again, I suppose that goes right along with being a good guesser. I'm obviously not used to dating people this smart.

When he doesn't finish his question, hesitantly, I do it for him. "Why would I still want to… hang out with you?"

Edward nods, and this time it's mostly a legitimate nod and only a little bit of I can't believe this.

I lean back against the door, and being the erratic gesturing talker that I am, I shove my hands behind me to keep from looking like a floundering idiot when I reply. "Well… I hoped this wasn't it… that maybe we'd work it out somehow…" I gnaw on my bottom lip, but it's not demure, or shy, or sexy at all. No, this is nerves. Pure nerves. Every nerve. All the nerves.

Because seriously, who wants to admit this kind of girlish melodrama to the object of her lust/love/like/whatever Edward is?

At the same time, there's this other thing I believe in.

And that's Band-Aids.

That's right, Band-Aids.

Band-Aids hurt a lot less when you just rip those fuckers off, and over the last few years, I've found that to be a perfect analogy for life in general.

So… staying true to myself and all that silliness, I blurt out the rest, to just lay it all out there, consequences be damned. "Fine. If it didn't work out, I like you enough to… well, spend whatever time with you that I can."

Ugh.

Okay, that sounded so much worse out loud than it did in my head. Alice would destroy me for that one. I want to destroy myself for that. Cringing inside for all I'm worth, I quickly revise my worldview. Maybe sometimes it is better to slowly peel the Band-Aid off. That way people aren't overly grossed out by what's underneath. Especially when it's a metaphor for crazy.

Where I might have expected Edward to laugh at my lunacy, or cringe (visibly), or maybe run away, he doesn't. Instead, his shoulders just sag into a tired slump. And for a while we… just look at each other. No talking. No moving. Hell, I'm not even breathing.

"Okay, let's try this again," he starts after a long, agonizing moment. When he speaks, he draws out each and every syllable. It kind of reminds me of the way some people talk to little kids, but I'm not about to get on him for that. Considering these last few minutes' worth of revelations, it's not like I can blame him. So for now, it's fine. It's totally fine, because while he's speaking, his shoulders square, and all those hard, angry angles of his face soften and warm.

Oh, my silly, fluttering heart.

With put on formality, Edward extends his hand, all the while giving me the best you better shake my hand and go with this scowl I've ever seen. Of course, I comply, barely holding back my grinning giddiness as those long, pretty surgeon's fingers of his wrap around mine and give them a little squeeze.

"Hi, I'm Edward Cullen. I'm thirty-four years old. I'm a Gemini. I like scuba diving, medium-rare steak, and long walks on the beach."

When I start to giggle, he shushes me and continues. "When I was 7, I thought I wanted to be a marine biologist, but wound up becoming a surgeon, like my dad. I did my undergrad at Dartmouth, and then med school at Northwestern University." Now this part I do remember. "Afterward, I worked there at Northwestern Memorial Hospital and lived in Evanston, Illinois, thirty minutes from where my parents and brother still live."

Edward eyes me for a second, like he's gauging my reaction to see just how much of this is a surprise. I (impatiently) motion for him to keep going. "A couple of years ago, looking for a little adventure…" His expression turns slightly sheepish. "And frankly, to get out of my father's shadow, I took a job across the country at the University of Washington Medical Center, in Seattle, Washington. Just so we're clear, I still work there. And I live in Montlake."

And now I gape. "That's… "

One hot, cocky brow shoots up to his hairline. "Yeah, I know. It's fifteen minutes from your condo."

I am… incredulous. And my cheeks are still burning. And none of that is sunburn either. "So… you honestly knew all this time?"

A second brow joins the first. "Of course, I did. Why do you think I was so… persistent? And for God's sake, why didn't you just ask me?!"

And Captain McGood Question strikes again!

Remember when I said I was the capital A in avoidance? Am. I. Ever.

After a moment of consideration, I shrug, because who the heck knows why people behave the way they do. Those creepy old men in my Psyche books sure didn't. Seriously, any dude who equates a toddler's toilet training (or lack thereof) to adult age disorganization and rebellion is pretty fucked up. If you ask me, sometimes crap is just crap.

"I guess… the same reason you didn't ask me if I was married until we'd already started…" I wave between us. "You know, whatever it is we do."

Now, for some reason, that stops him cold, and whatever Edward had planned to say (probably some more much deserved chastisement) gets swallowed as his Adam's apple does one of its famous bobs. He thinks for a second, and I know that he's legitimately weighing my statement, too. His features twist back and forth in obvious indecision. Finally, they settle, and he lets out a little sigh. "All right, fair enough."

By the way, I'm also not used to dating people who don't have to be right all the time. It's… liberating.

I chew on my lip again, and this time, there's a few less nerves involved. Maybe, just maybe, I'm playing it bashful as I fish. "So… you're saying that you also assumed that whatever we did here… would…"

"Continue?"

To that, I can only nod. Edward's eyes are doing that hypnotic, come hither thing again, which is always impossible to resist but now it has the added impact of a sledgehammer on my chest. Especially when he all but purrs, "I think you could say that."

Something very, very warm surges through me, and my hands escape their prison before I can stop them. I reach out to smooth the perfectly pressed placket of his tuxedo shirt. "If you ask me," I tell him, tucking my fingers between the shiny buttons. "I think you should be flattered."

Edward's hands close over mine, and before I can blink, he spins us around. "You do, do you?" he murmurs, as his head tilts down, even as mine tilts up. That sinfully decadent mouth of his slants and hovers just over mine, not quite touching, but close enough we're breathing the same electrified air.

"Mmm-hmm." I lift up to my toes to close the gap, but Edward is fast. Really fast, because I'm fast, too. Judging by the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, I get that he's playing a little game of hard to get. Which is fine. Because I'll chase him around the entire ship if I have to, and if he's not careful, I may wind up tackling him. He's bigger than me, but I'm… motivated.

Grinning for all he's worth, Edward dodges my lips again. "And why's that?"

Vaguely, I register that we're moving as we're talking. Okay, that's not exactly true. In all honesty, I don't notice it at all, not until the backs of my knees hit the edge of my mattress. When they hit, because my balance is shit, I start to stumble, but Edward's arms are right there to catch me. It's highly possible (probable) that he planned for that to happen.

Sneaky boy.

I guess he's planning on tackling me, too. Which is also fine.

All sorts of shivery things happen when Edward's fingers slowly walk up my spine. They linger at the tab of my zipper, like they're waiting. "You didn't answer me," he says. And his mouth is so close to mine that I swear I'm about to die. Or combust.

"I just do." Incapable of looking away (or even breathing), my fingers start their assault on his shirt. Let's just say that it's a good thing that the clasps slide open so easily. Otherwise, with the kind of tension we've got building, we'd wind up some kind of horrible Harlequin cliché, complete with popping buttons and ripping fabric.

With all our silly miscommunication and unnecessary drama, I mean, we're contrived enough, as is. We don't need anything else. Hell, I've thrown better books than this!

Thankfully, my non-answer is good enough. And as I swipe my tongue across his lower lip, Edward groans. It's one of those delicious, throaty groans that make me want to climb all over him. Those lingering, waiting fingers of his tug down on my zipper and peel my dress open in the back. Since I'm otherwise occupied, the whole thing falls down my legs into a navy-nearly-black puddle around my feet. I step out with surprising coordination and without even blinking, kick it somewhere out of the way.

Now normally, I'd cringe at that kind of textile mistreatment, especially considering how much I paid for the damned thing. But now? Fuck it. I'll buy another. Or maybe three. I'm sure Alice would be fully onboard with that.

Let's get naked!

"Jesus." Edward murmurs that and even though that sexy murmuring thing isn't new, it still makes me all tingly. To make matters worse (better), he steps back, not even bothering to pretend he isn't looking. And oh, God, that look is back. He's looking at me like he wants to freaking eat me, and it does gloriously wicked things to my insides. "Please tell me you make a habit of wearing this kind of stuff."

What? Come on, people! You didn't think I'd be wearing ugly undies, did you?

"Just when I have to dress up," I say with a wink, because, okay, it's kind of true.

Don't get me wrong, my daily stuff is pretty damned decent, but it's nothing compared to the scalloped lines and intricate lace of the nude on nude set I'm currently wearing. This is my really nice stuff. You know, the underwear you buy with no real reason for buying it, other than to just have it. Well, and to break out when you want to get laid.

Which I do. Right now. A lot.

I make a mental note to purchase more.

"Then when we get home…" One eyebrow lifts like he's just daring me to argue. I don't, since we just did that and all, and instead reach across the space between us to run my nails over his stomach. Really, all those lines and planes are just impossible to resist. And when I feel the muscles ripple and twitch, I do it again. And again. And again, until Edward grabs my wrist and pinions it (gently) behind my back. "Like I was saying," he says, low and gravelly and right there beside my ear. "When we get home, I'll make sure you have plenty of opportunities to dress up."

Things start to get a little blurry then. Not drunk blurry, but sensation blurry. Like my body can't handle everything it's feeling, so it has to shut down half my brain to compensate blurry.

Before I can blink, my second wrist joins the first behind me. My back straightens to counteract the pull on my shoulders and my chest winds up jutting out like an offering. Being the anatomy wizard he is, Edward probably knew that would happen. He grins down at me, looking all mischievous, devilish, and unf, and I can't resist smirking right back.

In my best fake-sultry tone, I ask him, "So, now that you have me where you want me, what are you going to do with me?"

Take that, Pauly Shore. I've just upgraded to Sharon flipping Stone.

"You're not where I want you… yet." Instead of continuing – preferably by explaining exactly where he does want me and leaving out none of the details – Edward's mouth falls away from my ear and skims up and down my throat, kissing and licking and sucking and biting, until I'm all but writhing.

Oh, fuck, his mouth.

Seriously, Edward's mouth turns me into a rag doll. My bones melt in his grip and when he works his way back up to my jaw, my head takes the hint and tips back until all I can see is the ceiling. Not coming up from his assault on both my throat and my sanity, he releases my wrists to frame my waist.

When I lift my arms to circle his neck, his lips finally start moving up to meet mine, feathering soft, lingering kisses all along the way.

Honestly, it's mind-boggling just how intensely this man affects me, how every cell in my body seems to be tuned directly to him. It's like we were made for each other. If I weren't such a cynic I'd call us something silly… like fated lovers. Or true companions. Or kindred spirits. Or soul mates. Or… okay, I don't know any more of those things.

Anyway, then again, judging by the heavy pants when he comes up for air and the low, muffled groans in the back of his throat when I lick into his mouth, I get the feeling that we share a mutual kind of madness.

I keep all that to myself, however, and just enjoy the ride.

Speaking of…

Before I go up in flames, I lean back toward the mattress. And Edward's not stupid either. No, he gets what I want immediately. And apparently that's what he wants, too, because as I drag him down on top of me, he comes willingly, chuckling against my lips. "Getting closer."

"What?"

"You're getting closer… to being where I want you," he says, lifting up on his elbows to keep from crushing me. It's nice that he does that, but I want to feel every bit of him, so I squeeze a little to let him know. But I think he has some other plans, because instead of sinking into me, he starts to slide away.

No, strike that.

He starts to slide down.

Oh, God. I nearly come unglued as he kisses a long, wet, circuitous path down my neck.

To my collarbones.

To my chest.

To each of my breasts, where he yanks down the cups of my bra and lingers, licking and sucking my nipples hard enough to wreak havoc on my brain.

To my stomach.

To the curve of each hip.

And finally down to the apex of my thighs, where he licks and tastes me through the sheer, damp lace of my panties like a thirsty man who's just found water.

"A little lower… God, just a little lower," I tell him, screwing my eyes shut against the erotic, demanding onslaught of his tongue. Without conscious direction, my hands find the back of his head and my fingers thread through his hair. "Ohhhhhh! Right there."

It feels so good I want to cry.

Or come.

Edward's mouth abruptly disappears, but it's gone only long enough for him to peel off my panties. When I'm bare, he's back, doing exactly what he was doing before. And that tongue of his is like the rest of him. It's magic.

Wonderful, wicked, delicious magic that takes me to the brink over and over and over, always pulling back just before I go over the edge.

"I'm going to murder you," I say (moan), yanking on his hair.

"You don't like being teased?" Edward asks, and I swear I can feel him beaming against my most… intimate parts. It's absurd, but the fact that we can tease and play and laugh in the middle of sex makes me fall in love with him all over again. "I think you like it a lot when I tease you."

"I'll show yo–" Edward's equally magical fingers stop me mid-sentence, because like before, they're all of the sudden curling inside me, targeting that spot that only he and Mr. Plastic Peen even know exist. "Oh, God."

"No, I'm Edward," he says.

And now he's laughing.

And I'm laughing.

And then… as he lowers his mouth back to my body, while pushing those fingers in even deeper, I'm telling him exactly what he wants to hear. As the orgasm rockets through every bit of my body, blinding me with its force, I hear myself chanting, straight-up pornostyle, "Oh, oh, oh, my God! Edward!"

But this show's not over.

Oh, no.

When my eyes pop back open, Edward's up on his knees, looking down at me with naked lust. Oh, and the rest of him is naked, too, which, to be quite honest, is a little baffling. It tells me that either I just blacked out for a second, or my sorta-definitely new boyfriend/lover is really, really, really fast (not just one 'really'), because I swear that when he went down on me, he was still half-way dressed.

My moment of puzzlement is cut short, however. Cause my focus is immediately seized when Edward fists himself to roll on a condom. I don't even bother asking about it. After all, didn't I already say he's like a freaking boy scout…

But really, it's just mesmerizing.

Those hands.

That… ahem, member.

Together? At the same time and in the same frame?!

One corner of his mouth pulls up when he catches me staring. "Like what you see, Ms. Swan?"

I shrug, but we all know by now nonchalant really isn't in my repertoire, especially when it comes to this guy. And I like what I see a whole lot. "Not bad."

The other corner pulls up into another one of those gorgeous, heart-melting megawatt grins. "Not bad? You're going to pull that shit again? I'll show you not bad."

Before I can answer, Edward slowly prowls back up my body, retracing the same path that he took down a few minutes earlier. I giggle when he kisses each thigh, and then a high-pitched squeal comes out when his tongue runs up my stomach to circle my belly button.

"Get up here, will you." I say (demand), tugging him by the hair. Because while I like all that playing and foreplay, really, I just want him.

In me.

Right now.

So much.

Getting the message (that he may just lose a limb), Edward relents. Stretching out on top of me, he settles himself between my thighs. He's hard – so hard – and thick and long and oh, fuck, he's finally, finally, finally right there, right where I've wanted him since the night we did our drunken bump and grind on the top of the world.

But now… it's more.

It's so much more, and my chest pounds with the knowledge that tonight isn't just it after all.

At first, we just look at each other, and it's almost like Edward is thinking the exact same thing. After a few long, drawn out seconds, his eyes go a little soft and he leans down to reclaim my lips.

Reminiscent of our kiss on the dance floor, this one is a long, deep, romantic type of kiss. A toe-curling kiss. A heart-pounding kiss. A kiss that makes my skin light on fire and makes my lower half forget the earlier orgasm and clench in anticipation.

Moving in a rhythm that alludes to precisely what's coming next, his tongue strokes against mine, and I can taste where he's been. I don't know why, and that kind of thing has never really affected me before, but right now it turns me on so much that my legs kick out wider and I arch my back to take him inside.

Oh, God.

All those tiny, little muscles inside my pu– no, vag– no, hoo– no… oh, hell, just pick your own damned word… spasm and tighten.

He's so going to kill me tonight.

In all the best possible ways.

"Fuck." As his hips draw back, Edward's face screws up like he's riding the edge of misery and ecstasy. I can tell that he's a hair's breadth from completely losing it, which I'm a-okay with.

I just need to let him know that.

So now it's my turn to grin up at him because I want every bit of what he's offering. Plus, I just love it when Edward says fuck. I run my teeth along his jaw. "Yes, please."

And… we're off!

Okay, now I'll admit that our sex isn't exactly the most graceful thing you've ever seen. It's not that porny, nor is it overly athletic. We don't scream like wild banshees, or break any of the furniture. I don't leave any bloody claw marks down his back. I don't contort into a pretzel or a taco. And while at one point, Edward does bend me over my little blue mini couch and pound me until I come like crazy, we're not even that creative.

But you know what?

It doesn't matter.

Because it's good.

Our sex is so, so, so good.

It's so good that when Edward finally flops down on the bed beside me, panting and groaning something about his hips being sore, which I call BS on, all I can do is giggle and smile and delight in the glory of being… well, in love.

And lust.

Don't think for a minute that just because I might be getting a little mushy, I'm not in lust with him. I'm totally in lust with Edward Cullen. I think I'll always be in lust with him.

Clearly exhausted, but wearing the best satisfied smile I've ever seen, Edward turns on his side and lazily gathers me close. Nuzzling the crook of my neck, he asks, "Still not bad?"

My shoulders shake, and that makes him shake since we're pretty much plastered together by our sweat-sticky skin. "Okay, okay…" I yawn.

Hey, it's not like he was the only one working! Reverse cowgirl for anything over 10 minutes is pretty much the equivalent of running a marathon on your thighs, okay.

But Edward just laughs right along with me. "Just admit it, Bella. I'm an amazing lay."

I snort at that. But it's true. He's amazing, period. "I guess… "

He squints one eye open and stretches to kiss the top of my shoulder. "Well, fine. You can the amazing one."

Putty?

Yeah… I'm definitely putty about now.

"All right." I give him a squeeze. "You're pretty amazing yourself."

I don't know how long we lay there like that, tangled up together, just cuddling and touching and, yeah, sure, trying to regulate our breathing. But eventually, we start to chat, falling into our normal, comfortable thing.

Only now we're doing it naked…

"So, I have another question."

Edward shifts so that he can look at me. "What's that?"

Copying him, I roll to my side and prop my head up. I try to ignore the way his fingers idly stroke over the skin at my waist. It's rather hard to do. "What was with that look anyway?"

He frowns at me in adorable confusion. "What look?"

So I huff. "The first night. You kind of freaked me out."

I can tell the second he catches on. His eyes dart to the mattress, to me, and then back to the mattress. His cheeks are already starting to turn, too. "Do you want the polite answer or the honest one?"

The hell? "Honest, of course." I think we've made it abundantly clear that we need all the honesty we can get.

"Um…" His cheeks morph from pink-ish to positively crimson, and I'm utterly fascinated by this. I've never seen him this shade. I didn't think he had it in him. I mean, this is my level of embarrassed coloring. "I wanted to mount you."

"What?!"

"It's true." Edward's cheeks do this puffing thing and I snicker, shaking him and the bed all over again. "I saw you there at the table. And you were the sexiest thing I'd seen in… God only knows. And you know it's been a while for me. So yeah, I wanted to jump your bones."

I only thought I laughed before. "Jump my bones? Who even says that anymore?"

Rolling his eyes, Edward reaches across the scant few inches between us and catches my chin. "Look, I told you, and I hope it's obvious by now, that I'm not exactly a one night stand kind of guy… so… I told myself to look but don't touch."

In a weird way, that's one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.

I do frown a little, though. "But that night at dinner… what changed?"

Still holding my chin, as well as every bit of my attention, Edward mulls my question for few short moments. When he eventually answers, his forefinger starts lightly tracing the outline of my lips. "I thought about you constantly, especially when you didn't show up the next night. I decided I'd at least… I don't know… flirt with you?" The look on his face reminds me of a middle school kid who just got caught passing a note. "I guess I wanted to see where it went from there." But then he smiles and leans over to kiss my lips. "And then… when I realized that we lived so close together… I wanted to… maybe see if there could be something real there. I just didn't want to talk about it in front of my family, so I waited until we were alone."

By family, I'm pretty sure he really means Emmett. I so don't blame him.

We kiss a little more then. Nothing too hot and heavy, just slow, luxurious kisses. Okay, maybe a bit of petting here or there. Whatever. We do a lot of petting. Which leads to more of before.

See, Edward likes my breasts. A lot.

And I like that he likes them.

I also like Edward's dick. Which, despite our earlier couple of hours of fun and gymnastics, after about thirty seconds of my… attention, is impressively hard again. And I know this because when he groans and rolls to his back, pulling me on top of him as he goes, it's nudging up against my [word that you get to pick].

Color me a very lucky woman. Very, very lucky.

"One more," I mumble, already losing coherency as I take him inside me again.

Edward grips my thighs as his (supposedly sore) hips lift off the bed, and I nearly scream at the depth. "We're seriously…" He thrusts into me again and again, and oh, my God. "Playing 20 questions right now?"

"What would you say…" My eyes drop to where we're joined. I'm not exactly the most visual of people when it comes to sexy timez, but holy damn if watching him move in and out of me isn't the hottest thing I've ever seen. "Oh, God… If I took a small square of fabric…" His thumb finds my self-destruction button, and I laugh/moan. "Maybe in red, and…yes, right there…right there… and looped it around your… um, member."

Edward stills.

Which is a little disappointing seeing as how I was this close to coming undone… again.

"Are you asking if you can play dress up with my dick?!"

I think he may be a little horrified, but not enough to pull out. Or stop. Because Edward's grip on me tightens and his hips lift off the bed again. And again. And again. And I can tell by the way this thumbs dig into my thighs that he getting ready to really start pounding.

"No… maybe…" My brain is scrambled. "Okay, yes. I think he'd be a great Super Peen."

When he starts to laugh, Edward loses some of his rhythm. "Well, he is pretty super, I'll give you that."

I slug him then.

He just flips me over.

And just like I predicted, he really starts pounding. Really.

"Tell you what…" he somehow manages to say between thrusts. "You can dress my dick up if I… get to stick googly eyes to your boobs."

"What?" I try to infuse that with a little bit of indignation, but I can't. Not when Edward is driving me into the mattress and every inch of my body is singing his praises. His pelvis grinds against me, and I have to bite the pillow to keep from screaming.

"Oh, and you have to dance for me." One brow shoots up, and I'm amazed that he has the mental wherewithal to do that while otherwise occupied. "Naked. Except for the googly eyes. "

Okay, and now I laugh and laugh and laugh, because he's ridiculous.

"I'm serious." But Edward winks, and he's grinning, and it's the most wonderful thing I've ever seen. "We can be Super Peen and Googly Tits."

I laugh even harder. Cause I totally love him. I mean that. I really do.

Maybe I'll even tell him when we get back home.

"Okay, deal."