Hiiii. Just a couple more to wrap this baby (ha) up. The story will end on ch 64.

I can't tell you how disheartening it is to have FFn not send alerts out as this story comes to an end. Booooooooo :(

Some of you know I started a new story recently called "who's afraid of little old me?" It's a little different, a little dark, a little fun. Hope you'll join me!

Thanks for reading and leaving your thoughts, it keeps me going! :3


62
- you and me -

Edward

"Bell?" I call out when I walk through the front door of our new house.

It's been a chaotic six weeks since we put an offer on it but things are finally settling down.

We had movers haul the big stuff over here two weeks ago and hired a company to bring everything from our storage unit in Seattle. The truck arrived a few days ago, and there's shit everywhere. Furniture in random places, unpacked boxes. No room is organized yet.

Except for the nursery.

It's the only room we've been working hard on getting done so we're prepared when the baby comes in six weeks. It's also the room Bella wants us to take maternity photos in, which is what we're doing today.

"Up here!" she calls out.

I take the stairs to the nursery, her current craving—iced tea lemonade from Starbucks—in my hand. I grabbed it on my way back from the podcast studio, which is where I've been most of the day. The show debuts in two weeks, but Emmett and I are pre-recording some episodes because once the baby's here I'll be busy and I don't want to add more to my plate until Bella and I can get into a routine with Evie.

"Hey, I got you—" My words catch in my throat when I reach the nursery doorway and see Bella.

She's on her tiptoes, placing my old stuffed bear on the shelf above the changing table.

From behind, all I can see are her long, bare legs and that she has on black underwear and one of my white button-downs. I stare at her ass. I can't help it.

"Hey you," she says warmly, turning around. "It's looking good in here, right?"

I nod, but I'm not looking at the room. She's my sole focus.

Her shirt hangs open and I can see everything.

The round swell of her stomach.

The fullness of her breasts in a black bra.

She's fucking beautiful.

Glowing.

She's mine.

"You look—wow."

It's all I can say.

She glances down at herself. "It's not too much? Too sexy or weird or anything?"

I shake my head and hand over her drink. "No, not at all."

"You're the best for bringing me this." She takes a long drink before setting the plastic cup on the changing table. "So, we're basically done in here," she says, rubbing her stomach. "I mean, we still have to wash all of the baby clothes we have and put them away, but otherwise… yeah."

I glance away from her just long enough to look around the room.

She wanted a certain style for the nursery, and she achieved it.

"Bohemian vibes," she'd said one night when we were in bed. "Imagine it. Natural wood. Dusty pink floor-length curtains. A cream rocker. I'm thinking of a soft sage accent wall where her crib is. Oh! And I found this distressed, vintage rug that will look amazing, tying in all of those colors."

I'd smiled and agreed, her excitement so fucking infectious. If it was what she wanted, we'd make it happen.

"It looks amazing in here," I tell her.

"Don't act like you didn't help, too. My sexy handyman."

"No, I know. But I just put some furniture together and hung some shit. You made all of this happen." I close the distance between us and snake an arm around her lower back, pulling her to me so I can steal a kiss. "You know what else looks amazing?" She glances around the space and before she can answer I say, "You."

"I feel like a whale." She laughs self-consciously, staring up at me. "I wish we would've taken these photos months ago when I looked better. But I'm also glad we're doing them here, in our new house."

"You're fucking beautiful," I promise, my hands moving to her fuller hips for a quick squeeze before sliding down to her sexy ass that I was just ogling. "I love this. I want to remember you looking like this. Beautiful and happy and growing our baby girl."

She releases a soft breath, looking up at me for reassurance. "Really?"

I dip my head to kiss her again, wondering if she can feel how I'm growing hard between us.

"Yes. It's not obvious how much I love you like this?" I ask, voice low with lust.

Understanding, and maybe a little bit of smugness flash in her gaze. It's bold, but she reaches between us and palms the bulge in my jeans, feeling how hard I am for her.

"See?" I whisper, searching her face.

She bites her lower lip, gripping me harder and making me groan.

It's the most action we've gotten in a couple of weeks.

We've been easing into being together again, and it's been fucking torture using just our hands and mouths. I'll be honest, I've tried going further. We've talked about it a lot and even though neither of us has had shitty thoughts that would halt our progress, she wants to wait. She's the one who is steering this now because she's still nervous.

I'm happy to follow her lead. Which is why when she playfully pushes at my shoulders and puts a little distance between us, I don't protest.

"Are you like this with all of your photographers?" she taunts, amused.

I bite back a grin. "The one I'm married to, yes."

She hums. "Well, you better keep it professional, Mr. Cullen. I'm going to be wearing less than this in some shots."

"Oh? I'm all ears," I say, interested in hearing more about her in fewer clothes, even though it won't help the situation in my jeans.

She tells me about her vision for the maternity shoot.

She wants moody and intimate. Black and white. She wants casual shots of us in the nursery and some in our bedroom. After we get some together, she'll take some by herself, too.

"I'll set up the tripod where I want it and use the remote I have to snap the shots of us, but you'll need to take the photos of just me. Now go change," she demands. "I laid out clothes for you on the bed. I'm growing bigger by the second, we can't delay these photos anymore."

I love it when she's like this—focused, in work mode.

"Yes ma'am," I say, walking backward out of the room, keeping my eyes on her.

She laughs, shaking her head and closing the white button down as much as she can so I can't see any more skin.

"Go!" she urges, smiling. "Rosalie and Emmett are coming over for dinner in two hours."

"Okay, okay. But you know the house is a wreck, right?"

She shrugs. "It's fine. They won't care. And we're just gonna grill and hang outside anyway."

I know Bella's friendship with Rosalie is real because there's no way she'd let anyone else over with the current state of our home. In the past, not even Allie could come over without Bella rushing to pick up stuff here and there to make it perfect.

I briefly think about my sister as I head down the hall into the master bedroom. At Bella's insistence, we invited Allie to the baby shower that's in two weeks.

We still haven't heard whether or not she's attending.

I'm not gonna dwell on it, though. I've got other shit to worry about, and if she makes it—great. If she doesn't, then I guess the conversation we were hoping to have with her is delayed for another time.

Quickly, I change into the clothes Bella laid out for me—black jeans and a white T-shirt.

When I'm back in the nursery, she opens the drapes so the room floods with natural light. She moves behind the tripod and instructs me to stand in front of the window, while she adjusts some camera settings.

"I'm about to be bossy," she warns before she joins me.

"Do it," I dare. "You're the one who has an eye for this stuff."

She says to touch her stomach. Kiss her forehead. Hold her from behind. To press a peck on her shoulder. I do it again, but gently bite her skin that time and she tips her back in laughter, which makes me grin.

With the remote hidden in her hand, the shutter clicks the entire time, capturing us.

I get into it then, not needing her guidance. Because being with her and loving on her is natural. It always has been.

She turns to face me and I caress her stomach, staring deeply into her eyes.

I lean in and press my mouth to hers because I just have to fucking kiss her. I can feel her smile against my mouth before she kisses me back.

Grabbing her hand, I lift it above her head and slowly spin her once, which makes her laugh again.

"Going rogue?" she teases.

"Just trying to impress you so I can ask you out after this photoshoot."

"Oh, yeah. Our first date can be at the hospital. Say… in six weeks? Could be sooner, could be later. Hope you're flexible and that labor doesn't scare you."

"Nothing with you scares me," I murmur, grazing her cheek with the back of my hand.

Her gaze softens. "You're in full charmer mode today, aren't you?"

I shrug. "I dunno. Maybe. I'm just happy."

Her fingers ghost over my jaw, her lips brushing mine, her eyes soft. "Me too."

I'm about to kiss her again but she slips away and moves the tripod to get some shots of us in front of the crib, our baby's name in laser-cut wood on the wall above it.

Evie Rose.

Choosing our daughter's middle name was easy and took zero convincing from me, even though Bella made a list of reasons why it was perfect to name her after Rosalie. I told her I didn't need to hear the reasons because if she loved it and it was important to her, then it was important to me, too.

Bella saved her list, and a few weeks ago when we decided to tell Rosalie and Emmett the middle name we picked, she read the reasons aloud.

She said she wanted to celebrate their friendship. That she wanted our daughter to be named after not just one strong, amazing woman, but two. She declared her and Rosalie friends for life and explained just how much Rosalie had impacted her life so far.

She was so fucking cute listing everything off, and as I listened I couldn't help but feel grateful for the role Rosalie had played in her life so far.

It was an emotional moment for them with lots of tears and hugs, and Rosalie said she'd be honored to be a part of our daughter's life in any capacity. And then Emmett joked that when we have a boy, he better get the same tribute.

We finish the shots in the nursery and I carry the tripod to our bedroom, glancing around the space.

Our room isn't as furnished as the baby's. All we have is a new bed, a large dresser, and a brass, full-length mirror leaning against the wall.

"Where do you want this?" I ask.

She shows me where to put the tripod and then points to the camera.

"You're in charge now," she says. "Watch me through the display and when you think I look good, press the shutter button."

"When I think you look good? I'm about to take a thousand fucking photos of you then."

She fights a smile. "When the shot looks good," she clarifies. "Artsy. Intimate. You'll know. I trust you."

I shake my head. "That's too much power."

"You'll be fine. These photos are just for us anyway. No pressure."

With a soft kiss on my lips, she moves toward the window and stands in front of the sheer curtains, so I can see her profile.

Opening her shirt, she props her left hand on her hip while she looks down. Her hair falls in waves down her shoulders.

From this angle, she's all curves—breasts, belly, ass.

I snap her photo.

She changes positions a little, pausing in between each movement to give me time to capture the shot. Angling her head this way, that way. Placing a nurturing hand on her stomach in one, then cupping it from below in another.

And then she completely removes the buttondown, tossing it out of the frame.

I whistle and she laughs, but I catch the way her cheeks turn a bit pink.

"Can you help me sit?" she asks, and I walk around the tripod to help ease her down onto the wood floor. "You're gonna have to help me get up in a second, too."

"Just tell me whatever you need."

She turns to show me her back and says, "Perfect. You can help me take this off."

I squat next to her, my pulse picking up as my fingers graze her skin and unclasp her bra so she can peel it off.

"This feels highly dangerous," I joke, but I sound too serious and feel too nervous.

She fights a smile, covering up with her arm. It doesn't do much because her chest is bigger than it's ever been.

"Can you hand me that?" she asks, pointing toward some fabric on the bed.

Standing, I grab the silk sheet and raise my brows in curiosity when I hand it over.

"I'm going to cover myself up with this," she says, maneuvering the sheet so it's draped across her chest just so, then snakes it around one curve of her waist and under her belly to cover her underwear. "I think I'm ready."

I go back to the camera and when I see her on the display, I have to pause.

"How do I look?" she asks, her head tipped back a bit so I can see her delicate neck, eyes closed and mouth slightly parted.

Seeing her like this overwhelms me and I'm not sure why. I'm also not sure how to put it into words.

She looks feminine. Sexy. Powerful. Vulnerable but fucking fierce.

She looks like my wife but also a mother and I've never felt more attracted to her than I am at this moment.

Unable to say or do anything, I press the shutter button a few times.

When I still haven't responded, she cracks one eye open.

"You're pretty quiet over there. Does it look okay? Do I need to—"

"No." I clear my throat. "You don't need to do anything different."

"You don't even know what I was going to say," she chuckles, looking at me now, no longer posing.

I stare at her through the display, soft light surrounding her.

"You're fucking perfect, Bella."

I glance past the camera to meet her eyes, her gaze softening.

"Help me up?" she asks.

I move toward her, offering my hand and grabbing her around the waist to help her stand.

The sheet falls to the floor, but she doesn't bother covering up this time.

Averting my gaze takes effort, but I do it and reach down and grab her bra, handing it to her.

But she doesn't take it.

"It's okay if you look," she whispers.

My eyes immediately go to her chest, watching as it heaves. She seems nervous, maybe. But her face is serene.

"The thing about looking is that I want to do more," I confess.

I want to feel, touch, taste. I want to lower my head and bring her breast into my mouth and hear her moan.

So I do.

Dipping my head, I kiss her collarbone. Her heart. Her breast. She sucks in a breath as I bring her tit into my mouth.

I kiss her other breast, my tongue flicking out and flattening against her nipple.

I start to get hard, straining in my jeans. My eyes dart up to her face to make sure this is okay.

"Edward," she whispers, humming in approval.

"Is this okay?" I ask anyway, keeping my eyes on her as I suck one breast and grab the other, squeezing softly.

"Yeah," she breathes out. "Yeah, it's good."

With her encouragement, I slide my hand between her legs to rub her through her underwear a few times, loving the way she responds to me and the sounds she makes. Like a whimper and a moan.

"You like it?" I whisper, needing her to voice it.

"Ummm, yeah," she breathes out, laughing. "A little too much."

"Me too." I add more pressure to her clit, watching her gaze grow heavy. "I've been hard ever since we started this shoot."

She fully laughs now. "No, you haven't."

I smile. "No, I haven't. But I am now. Touching you, hearing you. Thinking about… more."

She seeks out my lips, kissing me. It's soft at first, a little tentative maybe. I worry I spooked her with that word, but then our kiss quickly turns into just that—more.

My tongue in her mouth, her hand palming me through my jeans, making me groan. I grab her ass, squeezing.

I'm about to yank off her underwear but then I pause.

I take a breath.

Collect myself.

"What's wrong?" she asks, searching my face.

"Just… maybe we shouldn't start something we can't finish," I say, my voice low and controlled, the complete opposite of how I'm feeling.

She shakes her head. "Maybe we don't have to stop."

"I don't want you to say that just because I can't control myself around you."

She shuts me up with a kiss. "That's not why I'm saying it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," she says honestly, and I can feel and see her unwavering certainty.

She grabs the hem of my shirt like she wants me to lose it, so I pull it over my head. Her hands move to my jeans, undoing the button and zipper, and I yank them down so fucking fast and step out of them.

I don't plan on taking off my boxers just yet, but then she tugs at them. I let her do it for me, pulling them to my thighs, my cock erect between us. I take them off, kicking them to the side.

She stares, her gaze heated as she slides off her underwear.

I pull her to me and we kiss again, blindly walking backward to the bed. I don't know who's leading this. Maybe it's both of us. Or maybe it doesn't matter because right now it's clear we both want this.

With our mouths still attached, we lie on the mattress, side by side.

I touch her again, this time sliding my fingers inside of her. She touches me, too, wrapping her hand around my cock and stroking it.

She's wet and I'm so fucking hard and, "If this is all we do, I'm okay with that," I admit. "I don't want to push you."

"You're not pushing me," she insists, her voice husky. "What about… more?"

More.

There's that word again, this time from her.

I can feel myself faltering.

But only because now I'm thinking about the logistics of sex while she's pregnant.

"I don't want to hurt you," I murmur, my hand still between her legs.

"Emotionally?"

"Physically," I clarify, watching her face as I curl my fingers and rub her clit with purposeful laze.

"You won't hurt me," she breathes. "You're making me feel really, really good."

"But… I mean… sex. The baby?"

I can't verbalize much more than that as she strokes me faster, using the precum that's leaking out of me as lube.

"I could be on top," she whispers, playfully biting my lip. "Or we could try it from behind?"

"You're eight months pregnant. I'm not gonna have you on your hands and knees, Bell."

She smiles. "No, like… lying on our sides. Your front to my back."

I groan in delicious misery.

"Fuck," I grit out. "I'd love that."

Her gaze grows even more heated. "Which position?"

"All of it," I say eagerly. "Everything. Yeah."

With a devilish smile, she strokes me faster.

It's dangerous.

Too fucking good.

"Fuuuck, baby. Wait, wait, wait," I warn, and we both stop what we're doing. "I don't want to come yet. Not like this." I scrub a hand down my face. "Or maybe I should, so I last longer? Jesus Christ. I'm an embarrassment, huh?"

She laughs, but not cruelly. "No, you're not. It's bound to be quick. We just have some pent-up sexual frustration," she reminds me, like I forgot. Like it hasn't been on my mind every morning, every night.

I roll onto my back and lift an arm for her to curl next to me. Pressing a kiss to her temple, we lie together for a moment.

"I mean, you're not like… second-guessing having sex, are you?" she asks quietly. "If you are, it's okay."

I frown at the ceiling. "I'm not."

"I know we've done other stuff and it's been okay. More than okay, but… this is different, I get that."

I gently grab her chin and make her look at me.

"No second-guessing from me. Are you having doubts?"

"No," she says simply, an ease present in her gaze.

"Same. The delay right now isn't because I don't want to. It's because I do want to, so badly that I'm about to bust a nut."

She laughs at my torture, but I fucking love the sound because it means she's happy.

I tip her chin up to kiss her. Her lips are soft and our mouths move lazily.

"I love you," I whisper.

I can feel the curve of her smile against my lips. "I love you, too."

She breathes into my mouth and strokes me again. I was never fully soft but feeling her hand gets me harder, aching, and I groan in arousal.

"You just want me to fail, don't you?" I growl-laugh.

She grins. "If by fail you mean to make you feel really, really good, then sure. Yes."

I kiss her hard before she rolls over to lie on her side so we're spooning. I slip my fingers into her once more from behind this time, feeling how slick and ready she is.

"Fuck," I exhale near her ear, biting her lobe. "I've missed this."

Gripping my dick, I position myself and slide between her legs from behind. Even if I'm not inside of her yet, just feeling my cock right there and how wet she is brings me so much fucking pleasure.

She moans. "No more teasing."

I push my hips forward a little and, without entering her, I shamelessly slide between her folds. Back and forth. Back and forth.

"Maybe just a little teasing?" I taunt, voice low, snaking an arm over her waist and under her stomach, feeling for her clit.

"Oh, God," she moans louder when I find it, sucking on her neck. "Feels so, so good."

"I know," I half-laugh against her skin, a low rumble in my chest. I don't tell her I could get off from this because I've already embarrassed myself enough today.

We do that for a minute, teasing and torturing ourselves, but I'm ready to be inside of her. Ready to fully connect with my wife again after so much fucking time.

"Bell…" I whisper, lightly biting her shoulder and then kissing it. "Baby."

She turns and angles her head a little, trying to look at me as best she can. "Just…"

"What?" I ask.

"I'm not trying to stall but… I know without a doubt I'm ready. Where are your head and heart at?" she murmurs, checking for any uncertainty that might backfire on us later.

I appreciate how cautious we've been. This slow fucking burn that's been simmering for months.

But just like her, I'm ready.

"Every part of me is right here, right now," I breathe out, gripping my cock and sliding into her from behind. "With you."