I wrote this a while ago, one of my first attempts at writing. Hope you enjoy it.


I sit under the tree in the shade, my sun hat flopping over my back, keeping the sun away from my bare shoulders. I hold my icy glass of lemonade in one hand, slowly dragging it over my throat, skimming across the low cut top I am wearing. The condensation drips from the glass to my skin, cooling me instantly where it touches, only to dry within seconds in the intense heat.

With my other hand, I fan myself with my already forgotten book, watching the bronzed, bare back of Edward as he pushes the lawn mower from one end of the lawn to the other, sweat dripping down his back and forehead.

"I have lemonade", I call, rattling the ice cubes in my glass as I wave it towards him, motioning towards the second glass that is sat on the table, creating its own puddle. He smiles, nods, shrugs his muscular shoulders but keeps on mowing.

His black cargo shorts reach down to his knees, resting low on his hips. My eyes are drawn once more to the muscles rippling in his back with each push of the mower.

"One day," I think to myself, "I'll get a petrol mower". Maybe.

The only problem with a petrol mower is that it would hide the small grunts Edward makes as he pushes the ancient machine over the long grass, and obviously it would make the job so much easier for him, meaning he wouldn't have to push so hard and those muscles wouldn't have to work so hard, so my 'show' would not be as aesthetically pleasing as it is now.

"Hmm, maybe not." I smile to myself as I take a sip of the cooling drink.

Edward pushes that mower up and down, up and down, each pass bringing him closer to where I sit. I can't take my eyes off him. He is the most beautiful specimen of manhood that I have ever had the pleasure of observing.

What's more, I know exactly what is hidden by those pants that hang dangerously low on his hips. I know that the six pack he so blatantly models is borne from a strict gym regime and many labour intensive jobs that he carries out on a daily basis. I know that his butt is so tightly toned, it is hard as rock when grabbed in a fit of passion. I know that under the cargo pants, Edward would be going commando - he prefers to work in loose fitting clothing so the sweat can dry and that means no boxers. I also know that the tattoo that is poking out of the top of his shorts may look like the top of a star from this viewpoint, but when seen in its full glory it is in fact the tail of a dragon that is climbing down from his hip to just above the knee, wrapping itself around his leg and snarling its teeth.

I also know that he is very aware of me watching him from behind my dark 's be honest, I'm not trying to hide the fact, fanning myself with my book, head perfectly still.

About halfway through doing the lawn, Edward grabs his t shirt that he has tucked into the back of his waistband and uses it to wipe the sweat off his face. He takes in a deep breath, his pants dropping an inch lower. It's the same every time. My eyes are glued to his barely there happy trail, leading to the promised land. A sigh escapes my lips as he breathes in to tuck the shirt back into the back of his shorts, and he runs his hands through his hair before grabbing a hold of the mower again.

I know that when he's finished, he will stroll over to the table, thank me for his lemonade and tip his head back, swallowing the liquid in one long drink. I know that I will watch his Adam's apple dip sexily as he drains the glass. I know that when he looks at me, his tongue will peek out and run over his bottom lip. I know that I will find it almost impossible to look away as he leans forward to put the glass back on the table and when he turns to thank me once again for looking out for his well-being, I just know that I will not be able to drag my eyes from the front of his shorts as he stands before me. I know that there will be a promising bulge in the front of those pants, and I know that it could all be for me.

I know all of this, yet am incapable of moving, of avoiding the position I am about to put myself in.

As he makes his final pass with the rickety old lawn mower and as I watch his muscles strain under the resistance of the grass to the blunted blades, my breathing shallows out.

When he gets to the end of the lawn, having completed his task, Edward turns his head to glance at me over his shoulder, as if he was doubting that I was watching.

The all too familiar smirk appears on his perfect face, eyebrow raised, hair flopping over his eyes.

"Isabella," he turns to walk towards me, "how thoughtful of you."

As I knew he would, he picks up the glass and turns sideways on to me, tips his head back and drains the glass in one long pull, his Adam's apple dipping.

I watch as a bead of sweat slowly rolls down from his forehead, along the side of his nose, finally dripping off his chin to land on the floor between us. I unwittingly lick my lips, biting down on the bottom one as I watch him lean forward to put the glass on the table next to me.

As he stands, he turns to face me, my eyes being drawn to the front of his pants as I knew they would be. And yes, there is the promised bulge. With my bottom lip between my teeth, I raise my eyes to his, not hearing a word he is saying over the pounding of blood in my ears.

I stand before him bringing us closer than any two people could ever innocently be.

He raises his hand to my chin, using his thumb to pull my lip free of my teeth.

"Oh Isabella, you're going to hurt yourself. Maybe I should kiss it better?"

His eyes search mine for my consent, leaning forward slightly towards me. I nod, tipping my face up to his, and close my eyes as I feel the softest lips I have ever kissed softly brush against mine. I inhale deeply, his scent like an aphrodisiac, all musky, freshly cut grass and with an underlying layer of Edward.

I breathe out, suppressing the urge to moan, the urge to wrap my fingers in his too-long hair, and I slowly step back, his head following mine slightly as if he is in a daze. As our lips separate, I realise he too had his eyes closed, and as they open, the pupils are much larger, the green almost gone.

He takes a step back, breathes in deeply, and shakes his head slightly as if to clear it.

"Thank you, Isabella, for the drink."

He turns and walks back to the mower, pulling it behind him towards the shed, where he brushes the grass off before he puts it away.

Still standing, I pick up the two empty glasses and turn towards the house, putting my bookmark back in to keep my place, and head up the steps to the kitchen door.

Once inside I take off my hat and sandals, enjoying the feeling of the cold tiles on my feet.

I walk through the quiet house heading towards my bedroom and away from the backyard. It's cooler inside and I revel in the drop in temperature, wiping my brow with the back of my hand as I reach the ensuite in my room. I grab a washcloth, holding it under the cold tap, wringing it out and putting it across the back of my neck.

It feels so good, and I lean my head back, closing my eyes, and just enjoy the coolness.

As I breathe in, the smell of cut grass reaches my nostrils and I smile, knowing that he has found me. His bare feet make no sound as he comes to stand behind me but I can sense his presence, my body reacting to his nearness all by itself. I hold on to the sink in front of me to steady myself and to stop myself from leaning back into him. I know he's there and he knows it. I feel his breath on my shoulder and I can almost swear that his lips brush against my skin, but the touch is too light to be sure.

His fingers ghost down my arms, only coming into contact with the hairs as they stand on end, my body so aware of his.

Finally, he peppers kisses across my shoulder and up my neck, just to take my earlobe oh so gently between his teeth, pulling slightly, making me groan as he knows exactly what he's doing.

All at once his whole body presses against my back, his arms wrap around my middle pulling me even closer to him and he bends lower to gently bite across my jaw, my head turning towards him like it's being pulled by some invisible force. We are both breathing heavily, inhaling each other's scent.

His lips descend on mine like wolves on their prey. He forces his tongue into my mouth, the hunger of his kisses the evidence of his want for me, of his need to feel me and to know that I feel the same.

As I try to turn in his arms, they hold me still and he pushes me firmly against the sink, no room to move. He breaks the kiss and I open my eyes, just to see him watching my face, trying to read me.

As I force myself to breathe steadily, my head clears slightly and I turn away from him once more, looking down into the basin as I struggle to get my breathing under control. His arms loosen their hold but stay wrapped around me, his hands spanning across my belly as he rests his forehead on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. He blows on the wet cloth on my neck, bringing more relief from the insufferable heat. It might only be about 35 degrees, but I just can't stand it.

With a final kiss to my shoulder he breaks all contact with me and steps back. I hear a sigh as he leaves the bathroom and I finally lift my head to look in the mirror.

I look hot, very red in the face and my lips are slightly swollen. I touch them with my finger, remembering the feel of his lips on mine, the feel of his weight on me, the passion in that kiss.

With a splash of water on my face and through my hair, I walk into the bedroom and stop as I see myself in the full length mirror.

I turn from side to side, examining my body from all sides, not noticing as Edward again comes in, this time with a cool glass of water and my book. He stands behind me, not touching me. Not needing to as my body reacts to him as it always does, and I find myself turning in front of him, reaching for his face with both hands, kissing him with such intensity that I'm pretty sure neither of us can breathe.

"I'm sorry," I breathe out, "I hate this." I wave my arms in front of me and look up into his eyes.

"I don't," he states firmly. "I love this, I love you. I'm sorry you're so uncomfortable right now but it will be so worth it, I promise."

After placing my drink and book on the night stand, Edward walks towards me and pulls me into a comforting hug. Tears start to run down my face.

"I know you're frustrated, and uncomfortable, and hot," he says with a small smile, "but it won't be long now. The doctor said it could be any day, you just have to rest. Maybe have a cool shower? You might be happier if you can cool off. Then you can have a lie down with your book, I might even give you a foot rub."

I nod into his chest and take a deep breath.

"I'm sorry I'm keeping you at arms' length Edward, but every time you touch me, I want to feel you everywhere, feel myself wrapped around you. I can't help myself, and the doctor said it's not a good idea right now." I sniffle a bit and look up into his eyes. "I'm sorry."

He leans down and gives me a small peck on the lips, then leads me into the bathroom where he turns the shower on, adjusting the temperature to cool. He then helps me out of my clothes and into the shower, gives me a lingering kiss on my forehead and leaves the room.

I lean my hands on the wall and let the tears flow. I know it's hormones and heat and pure uncomfortableness, but I can't wait for this child to be born. I feel like a bloated balloon, even my feet have gotten fat, and I know I must seem hideous to my amazing, beautiful husband, and I just wish it was all over.

Eventually I step out of the shower and wrap myself in the towel that Edward has left for me. Just another thoughtful act on his behalf.

I wander into the bedroom and sit myself down on the bed, noting the pillows he has left for me to put my feet on. I smile, knowing just how blessed I am to have him, and take a big gulp of the water. I finally lie down, feet up, and close my eyes.

When I wake, I feel much cooler and as I sit up I realise that my towel has fallen open as I slept. I turn to look at the clock and figure out I must have slept for 2 hours. I snort to myself, marvelling that I can sleep during the day but hardly a wink at night when I'm next to Edward.

Oh Edward, I don't know how he puts up with me at the moment. Every time he's near me I just want to jump on him, my body screaming out for his touch.

I really am missing him: his hands, his lips. Since I screamed at him two weeks ago (thank you hormones) to leave me alone and to stop torturing me every time he touches me, he hasn't been near me. When he looks at me I see the disgust in his eyes at what I have become. How he bears to look at me, I have no idea.

I sigh to myself and get up, walking to the bathroom to relieve myself once again. After washing my hands I go and stand before the mirror in our room again, this time really noticing the change in my body over the last couple of weeks.

I run my hands over my huge belly, the skin taut, veins visible so close to the surface. My breasts feel heavy as I cup them. I roll my thumb over the nipple and the skin is so sensitive - everywhere on me - that it immediately puckers up and I hiss at the sensation.

A groan comes from behind me and I look into the mirror to see Edward once again standing behind me. Our eyes lock in the reflection and I watch as he adjusts himself, licking his lips as his eyes drop to where my hands are now caressing under my breasts, running along my rib cage, and again down to my belly.

A tear runs down my face.

"I want you to touch me Edward, I want to feel your hands on me," I whisper, my eyes pleading him.

"I want that too, Isabella, but the doctor said -"

"I know what he advised, Edward," I reply angrily. "I don't care any you said this morning, it could be any day now, and having sex can help bring on labour. What harm could it do?"

"Your blood pressure, angel, that's the problem. We can't risk you or the baby just for our own pleasure."

My face is now wet from the tears that fall.

"But I miss you, Edward. I miss you so much it hurts. I feel like, like a beached whale and that you find me repulsive, that you don't want to touch me any more, like you never will, and I can't stand that. I need you, I need to know that you still love me, that you still want to touch me."

With that he steps forward, watching my face in the mirror, putting his arms through mine, and placing his hands on top of mine as they rest on my belly.

"I love you so much too, Isabella." His thumbs rub across the top of my hands, soothing me. "My heart aches when I see you doubt yourself like this. You are so beautiful right now, carrying our child, nurturing the life that WE made. You are so strong: I am the weak one. I want to cover you in kisses, and the fact that your belly is so big just gives me more skin to worship." His hands take a hold of mine and start to move over my bump in circles, caressing the roundness with tender fingers.

He leans forward so that his chin rests on my shoulder, his eyes glued to where our hands are joined in the reflection.

"I want to hold you in my arms and stroke up your sides," his hands carry out the movement with my own still under his. "I want to kiss down your neck and around to that spot just under your ear that makes you squirm." He runs his nose along my neck, stopping at that exact spot where he places a loving, lingering kiss, and as I watch him in the mirror, I squirm, pushing myself closer to him. His hands continue to stroke up and down my sides as his mouth swaps to the other side, kissing below my other ear, causing me to inhale sharply.

My whole body is alive, super sensitive to his close proximity. I can sense his smile as he keeps kissing my neck, my ear, gently tugging on my earlobe with his teeth. His hands don't stop their soft caress, now going across my abdomen, and when I pull my own hands away so that I can reach behind me and grab his hips, his passes start to rise higher until his thumbs are brushing the underside of my ample bosom.

I turn my head to the side so that his mouth crashes onto mine, his tongue dominating my own.

I can't help the moan that escapes my throat as my body, that has craved his touch for so many weeks now, responds to him as it always does.

His one hand cups my breast, gently rubbing his thumb over my nipple, while the other descends, stroking over the bump, and down to where he knows I really need him.

He runs his fingers down to the top of my thigh, and pulls his mouth away from mine. We stare at each other, his forehead now resting on mine. Our breathing is laboured, both of us with a slight sheen of sweat on our faces.

"I love you," he states. "So fucking much. Are you sure you want this? Now?"

I take a deep breath. "Like never before. I need you."

"Then look in the mirror, look at how we still fit with each other. You may be carrying our child right now, but you will always carry my heart."

I turn to face the mirror, watching as his fingers play with my nipple. My entire body is so sensitive right now, and watching the change of colour of my skin as I blush whilst watching his fingers, turns me on even more.

"This right here, Isabella, is what amazes me most. How something so beautiful and sexy," he whispers into my ear as we both watch him take my puckered bud between his thumb and finger and roll it gently, "can be life giving to a baby, provide the nourishment that it needs, and yet is still one of the most erotic parts of the body."

His other hand is still rubbing soft circles near where I need him, not quite reaching. As he pinches my nipple, he suddenly reaches down and slides his fingers between my folds, already wet in anticipation.

I cry out from the sensations, rolling my head back, arching my body forward.

"Open your eyes, Isabella. I want you to watch."

I take a deep breath in and exhale as I pick my head up again, eyes going straight down to see his now glistening fingers rubbing across my apex.

"You really have missed me, haven't you my angel?"

"Oh Edward, you have no idea."

He chuckles quietly, increasing the pressure of his fingers, finally coming into contact with my clit.

"Ah" escapes me, and I am no longer able to drag my eyes away. It's been weeks since I could see down past my stomach, and watching us in the mirror is like watching somebody else entirely.

"I want to watch you come on my fingers, Isabella, I want to watch your face as you scream my name. I want your eyes open."

I nod, feeling how I affect him as he leans over me a bit more so that he can reach further between my legs. His fingers glide over my entrance, and as he nudges my legs apart with his knee from behind, he slides one finger inside me, curling it slightly as he once more pinches my nipple.

A cry escapes me, and as he enters another finger he starts to pump them in and out, using his thumb to rub circles on my clit.

As I watch in the mirror I see just how perfect we are for each other, how we still fit like he said, how we were made for each other. My heart grows for him as he whispers in my ear.

"I love you Isabella. I love you so much. I will never get enough of you. It has killed me these last few weeks, trying to keep my hands off you, but I can't put you or our child in danger. I love you too much, baby. But I see what you need, I see how much you miss me too, and I see how it drives you mad as we try to stay away from each other." His hands don't falter as he tells me how he feels. "I'm sorry. I only want to keep you healthy but I can't stand to see you so frustrated. Let me help you now. Let me get rid of your stress. I love you."

With that, he leans in and kisses along my jawline and I watch his fingers slide in and out and I can feel my body respond.

"I love you" he says with each kiss he places along my shoulder.

He must also feel my body tighten as it nears its climax. As my breathing becomes more erratic, he bites down on my shoulder, pinches my nipple and pulls it roughly, at the same time as he pinches my clit between his fingers, and I come so hard, weeks of built up tension finally released.

Edward places soft kisses where he bit me, and brings both hands back to my belly, using his arms to support me as my knees almost give way.

My eyes had stayed open the whole time as he had commanded, and as I fight to get my breathing under control he smiles over my shoulder, locking eyes with me, and mutters "I really love you" to my reflection.

I chuckle at him and shake my head.

"So romantic Edward! But I love you too. So much"

I turn in his arms and wrap mine around him, enjoying the comfort of his embrace. That's when I remember his needs and I bring one hand round to grab him through his shorts.

"Woah, nu-uh," he says, grabbing my wrist quickly. "This is about you, Isabella, not me."

"But I can help with that," I pout.

"No, I'm fine, but you should lie down again, see if you can get some more rest now your frustrations have been taken care of," he smirks at me, walking backwards to the bed, his arms still around me.

"I don't mind," I say, licking my lips at the prospect of tasting my Edward.

"Well I do. Like I said, this was about you, not me. I can take care of myself now that you're relaxed again." He pushes me to sit on the bed and waits for me to roll around, getting comfortable on top of the sheets.

"I'll go get you a cool drink," he says and disappears.

When I wake again, I feel hot, and finally realise that Edward is lying in the bed beside me, wrapping himself around me, like he's trying to be as close as possible.

"I love you," I mutter and turn over, falling back to sleep within seconds.

"Love you too," Edward mutters in his sleep.


Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think :)