Chapter 8

She took a moment to remove Edward’s socks and shoes, and to throw his pants over her discarded dress on the end of the sofa. He stared down at her with a dazed expression while she rendered him as naked as she was.

Her lips curved into a grin as she returned to kiss the tender skin at the crux of his thighs and torso. She worked her way up the ‘V’ of his belly, tracing the indentation of flesh on one side of him, then the other. When she planted kisses over his abdomen, he sighed contentedly and massaged her scalp.

Encouraged, she kissed her way up his stomach and chest, rising to her feet. She placed one knee next to his hip on the couch, then the other knee on his opposite side, until she was straddling his body with her own. Eye-to-eye now, she met his groggy gaze with her anxious one.

“Was I okay?” she asked, biting her lip.

He almost snorted in disbelief, but managed to keep it to an exasperated chuckle instead. “’Okay’ is not the word I would use to describe what you just did to me,” he told her. His fingers continued their reassuring massage under her hair. “’Amazing’ or ‘incredible’ might come a little closer. How am I supposed to believe you’ve never done that before?” he demanded, suspicion seeping into his tone.

“I swear I haven’t,” she promised. “I might have watched a video or two to get some pointers,” she admitted somewhat sheepishly.

“Hmm.” His hands drifted down to her neck, stroking her gently. His brain cells were slowly coming back to life now that the blood had coursed back through them again. “Seems like you’ve been doing your sex homework, preparing for the big moment.”

“I guess so.” Her cheeks reddened again, and it made him crazy. How could she still be bashful after what she’d just done to him? But he liked it. He liked it far too much. It made him want to end her virginity in some ludicrously epic way, on a bed of rose petals while violins played, culminating in a bed-shaking orgasm the likes of which Bella would remember for the rest of her life.

He knew it would be nothing like that. More likely, he’d be lucky if she didn’t cry in pain through the whole ordeal.

He sighed and leaned in to kiss her, tasting the bitter remnants of his release on her lips. He winced slightly and kissed her again. Why did he feel like he was tainting her? Ruining her, somehow? Changing her irrevocably, for the worse, he feared.

“You are amazing,” he reiterated, sliding his hands down to cradle her narrow back and pull her closer. “Don’t change. Promise me.”

She frowned and stared into his eyes, trying to understand what he was asking of her. “I can’t promise that. Everyone changes. Every day. That’s what life is.”

He sighed again and stroked her face. He memorized her sweet brown eyes, the way they questioned him. Naïve, despite her words. He kissed the ivory silk of her face, over and over, every inch. Forehead, eyelids, cheeks, nose, chin, lips. He knew he would leave no part of her untouched tonight; he couldn’t stop himself from completing her thorough violation. Couldn’t stop the maddening desire to leave his mark on her - in her.

He didn’t quite realize he was only trying to equal the indelible impression she’d already left on him.

They sat entwined on the sofa as twilight deepened to night. The sun’s red hues had retreated, allowing a cool blue to envelop the room. Bella shivered slightly as Edward’s hands strayed down her back, and he knew it was time for them to move.

“Let me get you a bathrobe,” he whispered at last, reluctantly lifting her off of him and depositing her in the corner of the couch. He gave her a gentle kiss and disappeared to what she assumed was the bedroom. She pulled the nearest pillow over her nakedness and hugged it close, feeling the warmth of Edward’s body lingering in its satin cover. She had felt like she was wrapped in a soothing cocoon with his arms around her, his solid thighs beneath her. She loved the feel of him next to her. She had never dreamed the closeness of a man could feel so good, so inviting instead of threatening.

He returned quickly, holding out a hotel-issued robe of thick terry cloth while she stood long enough to put her arms into its sleeves. Edward was already snugly encased in a robe of his own, and he looked adorable, his hair mussed into chaos above the cozy fabric. She grinned stupidly up at him as he pulled her own robe close around her body and wrapped its tie into a secure knot.

“Better?” he asked when he was through. “You’re not cold, are you?”

She shook her head wordlessly. She didn’t know how to explain just how warm he made her.

“I’m going to light a few candles and brighten it up in here,” he said, kissing her forehead before wandering off to the kitchen. He reappeared with the wine and a box of matches. He began lighting the decorative candles scattered throughout the room, and when he was satisfied with the result, he refilled their wine glasses and returned to the couch.

“Do you want to hang your dress up?” he asked, nodding his head toward the pile of their discarded clothes taking up residence on the far side of the couch.

“No, it’s fine.” She liked the fact that her dress was sandwiched between the pieces of Edward’s suit.

He shrugged and handed her a glass of cabernet, then sat close to her, his body turned toward hers. She curled her feet up under her and touched her glass to his. They both said “cheers” and took a sip.

She fought the urge to giggle at how odd it felt to be acting like such a grown-up, the way adults acted in movies. But wasn’t that what she had wanted so badly? To get away from the chronic disappointment of wild parties with drunken, obnoxious boys?

She thought back with a shudder to the last big summer bash near her hometown of Forks, a mere two weeks ago. She’d never been so angry and humiliated in her life. Where did Jake get off, turning their private moment into a public spectacle? And a spectacle was exactly what she felt like after she’d returned to the bonfire, only to be greeted with whispers and snickers behind her back. Jake had made her a laughing stock.

But with Edward sitting next to her in this beautiful hotel room, pouring her glasses of what was probably outrageously expensive wine, she felt like she was getting the last laugh.

“You okay?” he asked, observing the perturbed look on her face.

“Yeah, I’m great,” she insisted at once, painting on a smile.

He saw through it. “You want to tell me what you were thinking?”

She was beginning to see that she couldn’t get much past him. “It’s not important.” She shrugged and took a sip of wine.

“Why don’t I believe that?” He looked into her eyes; they were guarded. “Tell me,” he coaxed.

She considered for a moment, then decided to trust him. “I’m just thinking how different you are from the guys I’ve known.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“Good. Very good.” Both of their smiles grew.

“It’s true - not every guy is as well-endowed as I am,” he joked with a cocky smirk of his own.

She giggled and blushed again, which was what he was after.

“That’s not what I was talking about, although there is a grain of truth to that.” His eyebrow raised, but he let her continue. “I mean the way you treat me, like a lady. Even after . . . everything we just did.”

He scowled at her words. “Why wouldn’t I treat you like a lady? Enjoying great sex doesn’t make you anything less. Don’t let some jackass tell you otherwise. Any guy with a virgin/whore complex isn’t worth your time.”

“Thanks,” she said, heat flooding her cheeks once more. “But it’s not that. It’s more the opposite. You know . . . guys pressuring me to give in, and then making fun of me or getting pissed off when I couldn’t follow through.”

Edward’s frown deepened. “Who are these assholes you’ve been going out with?” he demanded.

“They’re boys, Edward,” she said, as if stating the obvious. “They just want what all boys want, and they usually don’t care much about how they get it.”

He shook his head sadly. “Some guys care,” he said. “And some want more than to just use a girl for sex. Keep looking until you find one worthy of you. Don’t settle, Bella.” He reached out and took her chin in his hand, stroking it gently with his thumb. “You don’t need to settle.”

She stared at him, wondering what planet he came from. Wondering if there was some kind of escort handbook to tell him the right things to say to a girl in any given situation.

“That’s why I chose you,” she said softly.

It was his turn to stare. How did she do that? Grab his heart in her fist so effortlessly, then squeeze until it nearly brought tears to his eyes.

He slid his hand up the side of her face, stroking one perfect rose-colored cheek. He had no more words, and was certain he couldn’t choke them out if he did. So he chose the wordless language of a kiss, hoping it could adequately express his gratitude. He couldn’t understand why she refused to see that choosing him was the epitome of settling. Why she would consider him the sole recipient worthy of her virginity, when they both knew he was nothing but a paid . . .

Whore.

The word reverberated in his head. He pulled back from Bella and let his hand drop from her face. He brought his other hand, the one with the wine glass, up to his mouth to take a hefty swig.

“Okay, your turn,” she announced. He glanced at her shrewd, knowing eyes.

He played dumb. “For what?”

“To tell me what you’re thinking.”

He tried to fob off his grin as nonchalant. “What, are we going to play Twenty Questions now?”

“That’s an excellent idea, actually,” she exclaimed, her eyes brightening in the candlelight. “I’ll go first. Why did you pull away from me just now?”

What the hell? How had he managed to get himself into this?

He hedged a bit and then said, “Because I think you have an unrealistic view of me.”

“How so?”

“That’s two,” he warned her. “Two questions. And the answer is, you seem to think I’m more worthy of being with you tonight than the guys who came before me. And I’m not. Probably less so.”

Her brows squeezed together, forming a tiny line on the bridge of her nose. He found it disconcertingly adorable.

“I disagree,” she said bluntly. “It doesn’t matter anyway, because it’s my choice to make. I chose you, and now I know why.”

Her candor was driving him crazy. His lip twitched slightly before he gave in to her challenge. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why?”

“That’s your second question. I’m counting the first one, that started all this.” Before he could protest, she continued, “Every word you say proves to me why you’re the perfect choice, and you don’t even know you’re doing it. Which is really pretty cute, considering how much older and more experienced you are.”

“I’m not that much older,” he grumbled.

“How old are you? Did you lie on your Renaissance profile?”

“I didn’t lie at the time. But I haven’t updated it since I joined the agency two years ago,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “I just turned twenty-four a couple of months ago. And that was two more questions, by the way.”

“What?” she exclaimed indignantly. “That was not. The second was merely an extension of the first. Like a sub-question.”

“Nice try, but no. That was two questions,” he insisted. “So, are you really nineteen?”

“Yes,” she said, still pouting. “But I’ll be twenty in a few weeks. Which is one of the reasons I did this.” She gestured to the room, to him. “I don’t want to be a twenty-year-old virgin.”

He couldn’t hold back his laughter this time. “You make it sound like you’re one step away from having a comedy filmed about you at your expense.”

“It’s a slippery slope,” she insisted crossly. “One day you’re so nervous about sex that you push every guy away at the last minute, and the next, you’re filing for single-status Social Security so you can continue to feed your half-dozen pet cats.”

She ignored Edward’s second outburst of laughter and continued. “Maybe that sounds crazy, but I just couldn’t stand the thought of being in my twenties and still being a virgin. I mean, I’m finally leaving my teen-aged years behind, and I want to leave all the stupid insecurities and fears and awkwardness behind with them. I want my twenties to be different. I want to be different.” Her expression was determined, almost defiant. “I amgoing to change, Edward. Whether you like it or not.”

His chortles subsided quickly; he studied her soberly now. She meant what she said. Her teenaged years obviously hadn’t been kind, but whose had?

“I know you’re going to change," he said. "I just don’t want you to hurry it along. It’s going to happen faster than you know anyway. Trust me.”

She gave him that typical teenaged look of uncomprehending impatience.

“I wish you could see how special you are right now, where you are. Who you are. That’s all,” he added quietly.

Her eyes watered with emotion, and then she abruptly grinned. “You just did it again.”

He looked confused for a moment, then smiled as he caught her meaning. “Well, I don’t want you to suffer buyer’s remorse after this is all over.”

She frowned. She didn’t like thinking about her time with him coming to an end.

He misunderstood her expression. “But if you’re having second thoughts, don’t hesitate to tell me. I mean that.”

“I’m not,” she said quickly. “Not at all. Not even a little.”

He shook his head and wondered where her common sense was. She had no right, no reason, to be so sure about him. But he knew he would do his best not to let her down. Maybe that’s what she sensed about him that made all of this okay for her. He guessed that it was more guarantee than she’d received from any of the guys in her life before him.

“So, when’s your birthday?” he asked, reaching back for a lighter topic.

“September thirteenth. When’s yours?”

“June twentieth.” He stopped and did a mental calculation. “That’s five questions for you, four for me. So now I get to catch up.” He puzzled for a moment and then voiced what he’d been wondering all night. “What’s your major in college?”

“English, right now. I think. I like art, too, but I’m not very good at it. And I’m kind of a science geek, so I sometimes think I’d like to be a biologist or chemist. There’s better money in that, but there’s so much math involved . . . not my best subject. But the thing is, what will I do with an English degree? Teach? While I write the next Great American Novel, of course,” she joked.

“I think you can do anything you set your mind to,” he told her. “You still have plenty of time to figure it out.”

“I guess.” She took note of his somber expression but decided to push her luck anyway. “What about you? Did you go to college? The way you play the piano, you must have studied somewhere. Do you have plans to be a musician after . . . I mean, you don’t plan to be an escort forever . . . right?” Her words trailed off as she watched his face stiffen.

“Yes, I went to college. Yes, I have a degree in music theory. No, I have no plans to pursue it now, or after I’m done being this decade’s answer to American Gigolo.” His words were rushed, his tone, clipped. The half-smile he gave her was terse. “Careful, sweetheart, you’re going to use up all your questions at once. You’re up to nine now.”

Edward avoided her stunned expression by draining his glass and reaching for the bottle on the nearby end table. It was empty. “Why don’t you think of more ways to grill me while I go get us more wine?” he suggested, rising abruptly from the couch and disappearing to the kitchen.

Bella stared after him, mildly horrified. She knew she might hit a nerve with that line of questioning, but she still hadn’t been prepared for such an icy response. She gulped the rest of her drink and wondered how to make this right.