Chapter 38

“Spanking?”

Bella repeated the word weakly, giving Edward a pleading look. He’d warned her about the whole birthday spanking idea last weekend, but she’d hoped he was joking. She should have known better. After all, he’d given her quite a few playful swats as a “sneak preview.” Maybe under different circumstances, a little slap and tickle might be fun. But after the sexual onslaught she’d just enjoyed at Edward’s hands - and other parts - she was spent.

“You know I won’t hurt you, right?” he murmured. He was a bit worried at the anxious look on her face. “I have a feeling you’ll actually like it.”

“You mean you’ll like it,” she retorted. “Do I get to spank you back?”

“Sure,” he answered with an agreeable smirk. “My birthday is next June.”

“Not funny. That’s almost a year away.”

He grasped her face gently in both hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “Bella, you can do whatever you want to me, whenever you want.”

Her eyebrows raised infinitesimally. “Anything?”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you have in mind?”

“I have no idea,” she replied with a feeble laugh. “But I’ll think of something.”

“You do that. I like living out your fantasies.” His eyes darkened ever so slightly, to that hungry animal look. “Now I need you to turn around so I can live out mine.”

Electricity crackled down her spine at his command. She was a little disconcerted at how hot it made her. The heat seeped slowly through her belly like molten lava, and she realized that, unbelievably, she was ready for more of whatever he wanted to give her.

Edward stepped back, pulling her off the edge of the table to stand before him. He immediately drew her into his arms and kissed her, first gently, then with more insistence. By the time his lips strayed from hers and trailed kisses down her neck, she was putty in his hands.

And his hands were everywhere, gentle but persuasive, caressing and cradling her closer as his mouth worked its way over her shoulders and chest. Her own hands followed a similar path, over his shoulders and down the sculpted muscles of his back; up the supple flesh of his waist and then to his neck, where her fingers sank into his hair. God, he felt so good . . . hard and soft in all the right places, towering over her in irresistibly masculine strength. The closer he pulled her, the more she dissolved against the heat of his skin, melting into his embrace, feeling completely at one with him once more.

She was barely cognizant of her body slowly being turned in his arms. Edward’s movements were so subtle that she twisted of her own accord to allow his lips better access to the hollow of her collarbone; to let his hands roam the tender skin beneath her arms. His mouth methodically moved over her shoulder to her back as one hand gathered her hair and pushed it aside. She closed her eyes let her head drop to the side; and when she opened them, she was somehow facing the table, Edward’s arms encircling her from behind and pulling her back against him.

“Damn, you’re good,” she mumbled, feeling the hot breath of his chuckles on her neck a second later. His erection pressed against her tailbone; his right hand reached up to cup one breast. She could feel her back arching, her body stretching to push her ass against him. Apparently it knew what it wanted better than her addled brain did.

“So, when you had that fantasy of me taking you on this table, how did it happen?” he questioned, his breath sending tremors down her spine as always. “Did you imagine it missionary style, the way we just did it?” His right hand wandered to her other breast, fingers circling its nipple until it was erect; his left hand splayed over her belly, inching toward her sex. “Or did I take you from behind, like this?”

He tilted his hips against her, slowly rubbing his cock between her cheeks. Her heart and lungs were in a race now, each trying to outpace the other. Were his questions rhetorical? Or was she actually supposed to formulate some kind of coherent answer?

“Tell me,” he insisted, his lips grazing her earlobe, his arms pressing her body tightly against his.

“I don’t know,” she gasped. “I didn’t have time for a detailed fantasy. I was still trying to carry on a conversation with you, remember?”

He chuckled again. “I remember it well. I was trying so hard to figure you out. I never dreamed you were already imagining the things you wanted me to do to you. Even if they were just fleeting thoughts.”

“I was trying to figure you out, too,” she admitted, attempting to slow her breathing. “I knew you didn’t want to be here, escorting. That something was driving you to it. I think that’s when I knew I wanted you - when I figured out that you weren’t who you were pretending to be. That there was more to you under that glib, pretty surface. When you played the piano for me, I knew for sure.”

His movements stilled at the revelation. He exhaled slowly into the back of her neck, closing his eyes. “And that’s when I knew you’d never settle for the surface. That you wanted the real me. Warts and all.” His arms squeezed her more tightly, his body swaying slightly with hers. “You scared me to death.”

She turned her face toward his in surprise, craning to look him in the eyes. “Ironic,” she whispered. “That was the exact moment I stopped being afraid. Started trusting you. Started wanting you, for real. Not just a fantasy for one night.”

A wry smile spread across his face. “That’s exactly what scared me. I knew it was for real. No pretending anymore. I wasn’t ready for that.”

“And now?” she whispered.

“Now?” He paused, looking down into those hopeful brown eyes. “I don’t give a damn about ready or not ready. I just want you in my life.” You are my life now, he wanted to add. He would say the words when he knew he could back them up.

“So you’re not afraid anymore?”

“Only of losing you,” he replied. “What about you? Are you afraid?”

Her answer was an unequivocal, “No.”

“You trust me?” His grin was faintly wicked, and she had the feeling the fun and games were about to resume.

“Should I?” she shot back.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, burying his lips in her neck once more. His hands began to wander, exploring, caressing. His left hand crept closer to the tiny triangle of hair low on her abdomen, and her hips instinctively tilted up toward his touch. He emitted a tiny growl of satisfaction at her body’s response. “Sometimes I get carried away with you. So far, you seemed to have enjoyed the ride. But you’ll have to tell me if you don’t. Stop me if I go too far. Promise?”

Another electric thrill shot through her, and she could muster only a nod in response. She wondered vaguely if there was something wrong with her, being so turned on at his warnings of sexual decadence. But his body was moving against hers again, and she could think of nothing except the sensations of his fingers dipping down to her sex as his erection slid firmly between her cheeks. He continued this way for another minute or two, fingers and cock stroking her to moaning readiness for more.

“Put your hands on the table,” he instructed softly, the honey of it dripping down each vertebrae until it settled at base of her spine. His body leaned against hers, pushing her gently forward until her hands shot out to catch herself. She felt the warm glide of his fingers up and down her sides before settling over her ass, cupping and then pulling at her buttocks, opening her up to him. She was amazed at her body’s response: not to shy away, but to lift her backside and spread her legs to receive him. Her belly throbbed with a desire so strong that she whimpered softly before he even touched her. She moaned the minute the cool air met her dripping sex, now utterly exposed to Edward’s lust-filled gaze and rock-hard dick.

She glanced over her shoulder to see his expression, his hooded eyes zeroing in on the prize between his hands. The hunger she saw there only made her pussy throb more, impatient to experience this new sensation of being entered from behind. She no longer felt in control of her actions. Her back arched and she leaned down on her elbows to give him better access.

He muttered some thoughtless obscenity at her wanton invitation. God, she was gorgeous. He said so aloud then, smoothing his hands over those two scoops of vanilla flesh, pulling at them once more to study the beautiful entrances that lay between. He wanted them both - the beautifully opened flower of her vagina hovering beneath the tightly closed bud of her anus. Maybe someday he would train that bud to open as well. He knelt down to taste both, tonguing the nectar-filled flower before working at its reluctant neighbor. Her appreciative moan gave him hope that he might succeed in coaxing it to relax one day.

“Delicious,” he murmured, giving each of her cheeks a gentle bite before standing upright and running his hands over her buttocks once more. Then, without warning, he gave them a slap, the flat of his hand bouncing noisily off of her firm flesh. He eyed the tiny reverberations with satisfaction while she yelped in surprise. He massaged her cheeks and pretended to ignore the glare she gave him over her shoulder.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, though he was fairly certain the answer was “no.” He would never dream of hitting a woman in any real way, and if his playful swats during sex were unwanted, he would stop immediately. He stilled his hands at Bella’s waist and waited for her reaction.

Had he hurt her? No, not really. Pain was not what she felt at all. After the initial sting of his palm striking her skin subsided, she felt only warm, residual tingles surging through her genitals. When the tingles fizzled, she immediately wanted to feel them again.

Instead, she received the warmth of his hands gliding up her body once more, over her back, soothing her. Heaven. And then the heat of his body leaning over hers, his torso pressing against her back.

“Answer me. Did I hurt you, Bella?” came his whisper in her ear.

She shook her head, not sure if she could speak. Finally, she managed to croak a small, “No.”

His hands wound in her hair, playing, pulling gently. “Did it feel good?” he asked this time.

She expelled a shaky breath. “Yes.”

She could feel his grin next to ear, the breath of his soundless chuckle scorching her neck.

“That’s good, because we have nineteen more to go.”

She emitted a sound that was half laugh, half sob. This was crazy. Too much. Was he really going to count? She didn’t know if she could take it.

And she couldn’t wait to find out.

He let out a sound of lusty satisfaction as he stood upright, leaving her back cold and exposed once more. The light graze of his fingers left trails of goose-bumps down her back on their way to her derriere, where he circled them around and around until the nerves in her cheeks danced with anticipation.

When his hand finally came down hard on her left cheek, she shrieked aloud - not in surprise at the attack, but at the pure pleasure it gave her. It reverberated through her core, resonating deep in her groin once more. His hand stroking the offended cheek did nothing to lessen the sensation, and his other hand suddenly slapping her right cheek seconds later only intensified it.

“That’s three already,” he commented, his voice growing husky. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

No, was the first thought that popped into her head. She was worried she’d blurted it out loud. With most of the blood in her body rushing south of her waist, it left precious little for her woozy brain to work with.

It didn’t matter - he’d read her swooning mind already. “I’m not sure you’ll want me to stop at twenty, anyway,” he added, his tone teasing, yet somehow not. His hands were massaging her buttocks once more, thumbs repeatedly pulling them apart and letting them relax shut, causing the throbbing between them to increase exponentially.

“Do you hear that?” he murmured softly, as if half to himself. “So wet. You’re getting so wet for me . . .” Slap! Both hands swatted her cheeks simultaneously. “. . . I don’t know how much longer I can keep from sliding my cock into that slippery pussy of yours.”

A whimper escaped her as she writhed on the tabletop. Her hands clawed at the streamers beneath her fingernails; her breath stirred the confetti and blew bits of it across the table. Only four spanks and she was a shameless, wanton thing before him, awaiting whatever he wanted to give her. His lips, his tongue, his hands, his cock, his entire body . . . kissing, biting, sucking, stroking, spanking, fucking. She wanted it all. And she wanted to give it all back to him in return.

Edward gazed down at Bella’s cheeks, pink and quivering under his tender assault. He couldn’t keep his hands off of them, so round and soft and inviting; so eager to be taunted, tested and taken. Her body stretched and yearned toward him like a cat in heat, and his hackles were up in readiness, every hair on his body as erect and alive as his desperate cock. He really didn’t know how much longer he could go without fucking her. Had he ever wanted anyone this much? With this kind of urgency, this sheer ache inside?

His hand came down across her beautiful buttocks once more, low and close to her swollen sex. Magic number five. Yes, that was the spot - the one to make her groans more guttural, more desperate. Yes. Please be as desperate for me as I am for you. Desperate for me to stop . . . desperate for me to never stop.

He leaned over her again, pressing his body against hers, loving the sear of her skin on his. She was grasping at the party decorations, panting; and when his body came in contact with hers, she arched into him again. Yes, she was as gone as he was. As hungry and ready for more. For everything.

“Do you want me to fuck you now?” he rasped into her ear, his teeth grabbing onto the lobe for a moment after he finished.

She would have laughed at his crudeness, at the absurdity of his question, if the hormones coursing through her hadn’t rendered everything he did the epitome of sex right now. She had no energy for humor or propriety. Everything he had said so far was the truth. She did love what he was doing to her. She was dripping with desire for him. Did she want him to fuck her?

“God, yes,” she gasped, reaching back to grab a shank of his hair in her hand. She turned her face toward his and he claimed her in a kiss, fierce with probing hunger. She felt him shift behind her, adjusting the tip of his erection to find her entrance. With one long, slow stroke, he plunged deep inside her, stabbing into her belly with an intensity she’d never felt before. She cried out in pain and wonder at how different this felt from the times before. Why was she so much tighter? It was almost like the first time, her vagina being pushed to new limits once more.

“It’s going to feel more intense from this angle,” he whispered in quick explanation. He wound one hand into her hair and gently rubbed her neck. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. Just relax. I’ll go slow until you’re used to it.”

His body undulated ever so slightly against hers, retreating a little before returning, rocking gently into her until she was rocking along with him. He was right, as always. The pressure of him inside her remained, but the shock of discomfort wore off, replaced by a gnawing hunger. He began to slide out a little more with each retreat, pushing all the way back in again, until her body began to welcome the slow, rhythmic invasion. Gradually she felt herself pushing back into each thrust, tilting her hips up to take the now delicious punishment of him stretching and filling her from behind.

Edward’s breathing grew heavier, his actions less careful, as Bella began to respond to this new pleasure. Her whimpers faded into rasps of desire similar to his own. He began to raise his body from hers as he picked up the pace. He was mesmerized by the vision of her prostrate before him, not just tolerating his cock anymore but taking it willingly, even gladly. The sight of it, not to mention the feel of it, was nearly more than he could take. How was he going to keep from coming too soon?

“You’re too much for me, Bella,” he murmured under his breath, skimming his hands down her back and squeezing her buttocks once more. “Too much.”

He gave her left cheek a smack as he pumped into her. He heard her breath catch, felt her body stiffen; and then she collapsed with a soft moan so erotic that he had to hear it again.

“Seven,” he whispered, resuming the count on Bella’s birthday spanking. He brought his hand down on her right cheek this time with another deep thrust. Her moan deepened along with it, and a new rhythm was born.

“Eight.” Thrust.

“Nine.” Thrust.

“Ten.” Thrust.

He slapped alternating buttocks as he drove his dick inside her, watching her flesh quiver and still before the next onslaught. He felt like a man possessed, hypnotized by the sights, sounds and sensations of this sexual play. As absorbed as he was in his own pleasure, he was still highly attuned to hers, listening and watching for any signs that she was not enjoying this game.

Was it even a game anymore? It felt more like a test. A test of trust, certainly; and perhaps of limits. She had promised to tell him if she had reached hers.

She had not.

Bella wasn’t sure what she had reached, but this new place, this new state of being, was oddly exhilarating. She supposed she should feel affronted instead of aroused, being bent over the table, fucked from behind and slapped on the ass like an animal, or one of those shameless girls in the online videos she’d watched. But she didn’t feel the shame or humiliation she thought she should, and she knew why.

Edward never made her feel cheap, or used.

Even in this act of dominance over her, she trusted him completely. She knew that if she said, “Enough,” he would stop. And if she wanted to turn the tables on him and be the aggressor, he would let her.

“Eleven.” Thrust.

Her right cheek smarted from the burn of his palm. The burning intensified as it traveled deep into her belly, where his cock filled her to the hilt once more. Fuck, that felt good. How? Why?

“Twelve.” Thrust.

Who cared? She moaned aloud this time as tiny shockwaves barreled inward from her left cheek. She wondered if he could feel them in his cock when he propelled himself into her. Maybe that was part of the appeal - not just the power trip of him towering over her, but the sheer physical pleasure of friction and force.

“Thirteen.” Thrust.

She gasped and reveled in the continued rhythmic onslaught. The heat of his harmless slaps was no longer dissipating, but seemed to be building, spreading. She knew what that meant. The blood was congesting in her nether regions. If he kept this up, he would make her come again, for the third time in less than an hour.

“Fourteen.” Thrust.

Her cry was more urgent this time. She didn’t need to say the words, did she? Surely he felt what was happening; what he was doing to her. She pushed up slightly on her forearms, pressing her ass flush against him, taking his cock as deeply as possible, grinding against him to intensify the sensations racking her groin. She craned her neck to look over her shoulder, to look him in the eyes. His gaze was the definition of smoldering, the conflagration in his eyes matching the one blazing between her legs.

“Fuck,” he hissed helplessly.

He’d never seen that expression on her face. He’d witnessed her surrender before; felt its irresistible pull. But he’d never seen her own it like this. She was prone and vulnerable before him, yet she had never owned him so completely. More than that, she owned the act that was taking place between them. She was master of the intensity, the urgency, the sheer ecstasy that was about to engulf them both.

“You’re amazing,” he said, his voice breaking under the weight of her power.

He no longer needed to count aloud - they both chanted the numbers in their fevered minds. Fifteen. Sixteen. Edward slapped Bella’s buttocks simultaneously now as he hammered her with increasing speed, fingers gently soothing her bright pink flesh for mere seconds between thrusts. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen.

Twenty.

Their bodies trembled and pulsated as one, but it still wasn’t close enough.

He reached over and pulled gently at her shoulders. “Stand up,” he said, as much a plea as an order. She pushed up on her hands and let his arms enfold her, pulling her body as close as he could and still angle his pelvis under her ass. He drove into her faster, his groin ramming against hers, forcing them both to whimper in desperation.

“I can’t hold out anymore,” he grunted into her hair, his hand sliding down to her sex and stroking her in time with his thrusts. He hoped she was close - she was, wasn’t she? - but his mind was lost to the escalating euphoria that was driving every cell in his body to imminent release.

“Let go,” Bella told him, just like the first time.

As soon as he did, she was able to do the same.

*

*

*

“This is nice.”

Bella bit her lip, hating how lame that sounded. She was still staring at Edward from across the candlelit bubbles in the two-person bathtub, and he was staring back. They had barely spoken since leaving finally leaving the dining room to take a bath, at his suggestion. What was there to say, anyway? Words were useless after such a visceral, all-consuming union. Their eyes conveyed emotions much deeper than their lips could ever describe. And yet Bella heard another clumsy cadence come out of her mouth, like some part of her was hell-bent on breaking the intimate spell they’d created.

“That fill-from-the-ceiling feature is pretty cool.” She lifted her pony-tailed head to glance at the overhead spigot which had filled the pedestal tub with a thin waterfall from above.

A tiny crease formed between Edward’s eyes. He reached for her hands, which were wrapped around her knees just beneath the water’s surface. She let go and took his hands instead, letting him pull her across the tub to cradle her on his lap. She slid one arm around his neck and rested the other hand on his chest beneath the bubbles. He searched her face intently for a moment.

“Bella, did I hurt you? Be honest with me.”

Her eyes widened. “No. You didn’t,” she assured him, shaking her head. “Not at all.”

He gave her a faint grin. “I didn’t think so, but you scared me for a second there. I don’t want things to get awkward between us. You have to tell me if I do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“But that’s why I came to you in the first place - because I wanted you to pull me out of my comfort zone. Get me to try things I never thought I would; have experiences I never dreamed of. It’s one of my favorite things about you.” Her fingers played with the wet hair curling on the back of Edward’s neck, and a wry smile twisted her lips. “But every time I’m with you, I understand more and more why you’re such a popular escort. Why you make such good money.”

Edward stiffened, leaning back to look Bella in the eyes. “What are you saying? You think that what we’ve shared here tonight is typical? Just another date night for me?” His accompanying laugh was incredulous, bordering on offended.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just mean . . . you’re good at what you do. Like, mind-blowing, earth-shaking, 3D Technicolor, screaming-orgasm good.”

His laughter multiplied, crinkling the skin around his eyes and making him look like a little boy for a second. “Bella, it’s only like that for us because of how we feel about each other. Without the emotion, the rest is just . . .” he searched for the right descriptor. “Mechanical. Like a well-choreographed ballet with no music. Enjoyable, but hollow. No heart or soul. Forgettable.” He pulled her closer, pressing his lips to her cheek. “You brought the music to me. The heart, the soul. My unforgettable girl.”

His lips found hers then, tender and convincing. How many men thought like he did, that loveless sex was empty? Maybe that was the one good thing that had come of his years as an escort - he’d lost interest in casual sex.

“I’m a pretty lucky girl,” she murmured between kisses. “I’m not sure how many guys your age share your philosophy.”

He shrugged and gave her that lopsided grin. “Well, they’re idiots.”

She giggled and nodded. “Some of them are, yeah.”

“Speaking of idiot males, you never did tell me how your pre-birthday party went last night. Did you have a good time?”

“Hey, be nice,” she scolded gently. “It was fine. Nothing like tonight, of course.”

“I should hope not,” he replied with a smirk.

“I don’t think anything could top tonight. Or any night I spend with you,” she said softly, her foot gliding down his shin under the water. “But it was pretty fun. It got better when Alice and Jasper showed up.”

“Alice told me they put a stealth operation in motion to rescue you from your ex-boyfriend.” He sounded mildly annoyed, or like he was fishing for more information.

“They did. It worked great, for a little while.” She thought back to Mike’s date invitation, deliberating if she should tell Edward about it. She decided not to open that can of worms. After all, she certainly didn’t want to hear about any of his job-related interactions with other girls.

“Mike’s not that bad,” she said with a shrug. “He just needs to get over his crush on me. I tried to suggest that he show a little more interest in a mutual friend of ours from high school, because I think she still has a crush on him. I’m not sure it worked, though. And honestly, she’s been so bitchy lately, I’m beginning to think he could do better.”

“Sounds like you still have a soft spot for the guy.” Bella couldn’t tell if his remark was accusatory or simply observational.

“Well, if by ‘soft spot’ you mean I still care about what happens to him, then I suppose I do,” she admitted. “I like having him for a friend. He makes me laugh. He’s good at keeping my mind occupied . . . you know, on those nights when I spend most of my time trying not to wonder what you’re doing.”

There was definitely a little accusation there, but she couldn’t help it. She was in too deep to ignore Edward’s occupation for much longer. Even if he could manage to keep from sleeping with his clients, she still didn’t like the time he spent with them any more than he liked the thought of her turning to Mike for company.

Edward was pretty sure she didn’t mean for her words to inflict such a stinging wound, but he felt it in the pit of his stomach, sharp and precise. It was a stab of jealousy over another guy’s success where he had failed her. Or worse yet, comfort where he had caused her pain. But he knew he had no right to begrudge her finding solace in someone else when he couldn’t be there. He couldn’t object to her friendships with other guys, because he had no leg to stand on. Hell, he couldn’t even blame Mike for wanting more from her. He could only compliment the bastard on his good taste.

“Bella, you don’t need to worry about what I’m doing with anyone else. I told you, I haven’t been sleeping with my clients.”

“But how long can you keep it up? No pun intended,” she retorted with a mirthless grin.

“Forever,” was his instant response. “That’s how I feel. I don’t intend to let sex be a part of my job anymore. And even if I did, it wouldn’t mean a damned thing to me. Mechanical, remember? Any interaction I have with clients can’t touch what we have. It’s not possible.”

He hated the doubt that lingered in her eyes; in her voice when she spoke. “I want to believe that, more than anything. It’s so easy when I’m with you, like nothing else exists. But when we’re apart . . . I start having all these crazy fears. And I hate it. I hate being so insecure. Even if you were completely free to be with me, I wouldn’t want to be one of those crazy girlfriends who has to keep tabs on you every minute, and gets jealous over every girl you talk to.”

“You have no reason to be.” He lifted one sudsy hand to her neck, rubbing his thumb along her jaw. “I don’t know how to make you believe it. I can tell you until I’m blue in the face, but I know it means nothing until I back it up with my actions. And I will, if it’s the last thing I do. I’m going to prove myself you.”

Bella nodded, searching his face and finding the conviction she needed. “I’ll try to be patient. Just promise me you’ll do the same for me. I’ll remember your dates for work mean nothing, if you promise to remember that my dates with friends have nothing to do with how I feel about you.”

Edward flinched slightly. “Meaning, if you want to spend time with your ex, or the pothead, or the naked art class model, or any other guy who gets a hard-on for you, I should just let it slide. Is that it?”

“I am not going out with the naked model,” she assured him with a grunt of distaste. “But yeah, basically, if you want me to trust you, you have to trust me in return.”

Edward tried to keep his sneer in check. “I do trust you. It’s the idiot males I don’t trust.”

“You don’t have to trust them. I’d never let anything go too far,” she declared.

Edward blanched at her naivete. “Christ, Bella. You’ve got to be careful. Some guys don’t take ‘no’ for an answer. That’s what I’m worried about.”

Bella sighed. “You sound like my dad. Don’t worry - he’s made sure I carry around a can of pepper spray at all times, so he’s way ahead of you.”

“I think I’d like to meet your father someday,” Edward answered with his usual lopsided grin. “Sounds like my kind of guy.”

“Oh, God. I can’t even think about that. Not until we make up some kind of alibi to disguise how we actually met. He can never, ever know about that.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice. There are definitely a few things that need to stay between you and me.”

“Quite a few things,” she agreed with a sly smile. He returned it, and their eyes completed the conversation.

*

*

*

Bella felt incredibly relaxed after their bath. She stifled a yawn as Edward dried her off, knowing that she must be tired if his touch only soothed her instead of exciting her. When he helped her into in the plush, hotel-issued robe, she felt even more cared for than the first night he had wrapped her it its warmth. She closed her eyes and smiled, letting him tie the robe closed just as before.

Edward smiled down at her drowsy face, her eyelashes grazing her cheeks for several seconds before raising to let her look up at him.

“I think maybe it’s your bedtime, sleepy girl,” he suggested, giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead.

“It’s not that late,” she protested, like a child who was afraid she’d miss the good part of the evening.

“Late enough. Didn’t you have an early class this morning? Naked models and all?”

She chuckled at the tinge of sourness in his tone. “Yes, I did. And she left her robe on this time, though it was hanging off one shoulder while she reclined on a couch.”

“Ah. The demurely sexy pose. Maybe you’d like to demonstrate that for me,” he said hopefully, gesturing toward the bed in the next room.

“I’d be happy to. But I’m afraid if I actually lie down, I’ll be more asleep than sexy.”

“You clearly have no idea how sexy you are when you’re sleeping,” he replied with his crooked grin, one eyebrow quirking to match.

“Ha! I doubt that. I couldn’t be half as sexy as you. Even when you’re snoring,” she grumbled, giving him a light shove on his terry-cloth covered chest.

“I was just going to say the same about you,” he said, the grin growing devilish.

“I do not snore!”

His laugh was indulgent. “Okay, sure. You don’t snore. Girls never snore.”

Her eyes widened with chagrin. “Seriously? I snore?”

His grin stretched wide enough to crinkle his eyes into twinkling slits. “Just a little. I wouldn’t even call it snoring. More like . . . purring.” He dropped his forehead to hers and pulled at the lapels of her robe, drawing her closer. “It’s adorable. Honestly.”

“Oh, good grief. Now I’ll be afraid to fall asleep,” she complained.

Edward pulled back enough to give her a severe look. “Are you kidding me? Now you’re going to be self-conscious about what you do when you’re unconscious?”

Bella blanched for a second, then broke into a rueful chuckle. “Sorry.”

Edward shook his head, then gave her shoulders a gentle shake as well. “When are you going to realize that all those ridiculous self-imagined flaws of yours are the very things that make me crazy about you?”

She stared up at him in wonder that he didn’t see the irony. “I guess I will when you do the same.”

He stared back, then emitted his own rueful chuckle. “Point taken, Miss Swan.” He sighed and ran his hands gently up and down her shoulders. “Let’s not argue anymore. I think we’re both a little tired.” He nodded toward the bedroom. “Shall we?”

Bella nodded back, then turned and entered the room. The bedroom was as subdued and tasteful as the dining room was not, glowing softly in the light of several strategically placed candles. She could see two long-stemmed, blood-red roses laid between the pristine white pillows, and she smiled at their simple beauty.

“That wasn’t an argument, by the way,” she said to Edward over her shoulder as she approached the bed.

“No?” he replied, right on her heels.

“Definitely not. I remember the fights my mom and dad used to have when I was a kid, before they divorced. Trust me, you and I don’t argue.” She stopped and turned back to him when she got to the bed. “We discuss.”

He nodded, stopping across from her and taking her hands in his. “I’m sorry you went through that. I was lucky - my parents were really happy together. The only disagreements they had were over trivial things. Nothing major. It must have been hard for you.”

Bella shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. But I think I knew all along that my mom couldn’t handle small-town living. She and Dad loved each other, but they didn’t know how to make each other happy. They didn’t want the same things out of life. I think my mom was too young when they got married. Although, I have to admit, I’m not sure she’d feel any different about it now that she’s older, either. She eventually remarried a ballplayer, so she gets to travel all over the place with him.”

Edward gave her a wan smile. “Maybe that’s where you got your adventurous streak, then. From your mother.”

“Oh, definitely. But I’m still not sure she’d approve of how I chose to end my virginity,” she admitted, cringing slightly. “I’m really a lot more like my dad, most of the time. Maybe that’s why he and I get along so well. We don’t have to talk a lot - we just sort of let each other be.”

Edward squeezed her hands in his. “Like I said, I’d like to meet them someday. See where you came from. It sounds like you inherited the best qualities of both of them.”

She almost answered, “That’s debatable,” but she held her tongue. She simply smiled and let him be right.

She turned her attention to the bed beside them, its silk comforter turned down just below the snow-white shams. She let go of Edward’s hands and reached for the roses that lay between the pillows.

“What, no rose petals strewn all over the bed?” she teased. She twirled the flowers beneath her nose and inhaled their delicate scent.

“There’s a place for over-the-top, and a place for subtlety,” he explained.

“So the dining room table is the place for wild sex, and the bedroom is the place for subtlety?” she asked with a snort.

“I’d say that’s up to you,” he replied with a half-grin.

Her answering grin was weak. “I don’t think I can take any more over-the-top tonight,” she admitted. “You wore me out.”

His eyes crinkled again. “I’d tell you I’m sorry about that, but it would be a lie.”

“I’m not sorry, either,” she told him. “Not in the least.”

“Good. That’s a relief,” he whispered, leaning in to give her a kiss on the temple. “Why don’t you turn down the covers, and let’s get some sleep.”

“Okay.” She turned and set the flowers on the nightstand, then pulled down the covers on the bed. She started at the sight of a flat, square object right below the pillows. She peered at it and quickly perceived that it was another gift, wrapped in pale yellow paper with blue ribbon, the exact shade her cake had been.

“Edward, what is this?” she exclaimed, picking up the small box and waving it at him.

“Beats me. I guess the maid knew it was your birthday, too.”

Bella shook her head at his mischievous grin. “Maid, my ass,” she muttered. “I can’t believe you got me another present.”

He made a noise of exasperation. “Can we please dispense with the protests? Just open it,” he ordered impatiently.

She raised an amused eyebrow at him. “I love it when the real Edward Masen shows himself,” she said. “This is for you, baby.”

And with that, she tore the wrapping from the package as quickly and noisily as she could, flinging the ribbon and paper at him for good measure. He was still laughing and wadding it up while she ripped the lid from the box and tossed it on the bed. But when she pushed aside the lavender tissue paper within, she stopped short with a loud gasp.

They both held their breath as she took in the sight of the charm bracelet nestled inside the box. The bracelet itself was a delicate silver chain, but the charms attached glowed a deep, shiny gold in the candlelight.

Bella finally exhaled with the words, “It’s beautiful.” She pulled the piece of jewelry from the box and held it up, twisting it to and fro to let it sparkle.

Edward let out a breath of relief. “You like it?”

“I love it,” was her instant reply. “It’s so pretty.” She sat down on the bed, laying the bracelet in her palm so she could study it more closely. “What do these designs mean?” she wondered aloud, fingering the bracelet with her other hand and examining the five gold charms attached.

“They’re Celtic symbols,” Edward explained as he sat down across from her. He reached out and gently took the bracelet from her. He began by pointing out the image of a circle intersected by a stylized cross. “This is a Celtic cross, which is the sign for faith.” He turned the bracelet to the next charm. “The anchor symbolizes hope. The heart, of course, means love; and this Celtic knot is actually called a Triquetra, which stands for trinity.” He turned the jewelry to display the last charm. “The four-leaf clover is pretty self-explanatory.”

“It’s beautiful,” she repeated, feeling like she couldn’t say it enough.

“I’m glad you like it.” He fiddled with the delicate clasp until it opened. Bella followed his lead and held out her arm so he could put the bracelet around it and fasten the clasp. She twirled her wrist back and forth a few times, making the dangling charms sparkle once more in the candlelight. Suddenly the meaning of the symbols hit her and she gasped in surprise.

“It’s like the poem on your bookmark!” she exclaimed. “The meanings for the four-leaf clover - faith, hope, love and luck.”

“Right,” he said with a smile. “That was my mother’s favorite poem. My father knew that, of course. He had this made for her birthday the year I was born. He added the Triquetra specially. It usually stands for the holy trinity, but in this case he also meant it be a symbol of the three of us - our family.”

Bella stared at him, shaking her head, holding her arm out to him once more. “Another heirloom? Edward, I can’t accept this. Not with that kind of family history attached to it.”

Edward’s head was shaking now, too, in disbelief. How could she still fail to understand what she meant to him?

He wrapped his fingers around her bracelet-covered wrist and grasped it firmly, then stared intently into her eyes. When he spoke, his voice was low and barely controlled.

“Bella. My mother is long gone. There is no one else I want wearing this but you. I had none of the things this bracelet represents until I met you. You’re the one who gave me faith again - in myself, in you, in us. You gave me hope for a future I’d given up on completely. And you showed me what love was when I was sure I didn’t deserve it - when I had nothing but hatred for myself. The day I met you was the luckiest day of my life. The day I understood exactly what that silly, rhyme-y old poem was about.”

They both laughed at this, but it sounded more like a sob. Tears were already trickling down Bella’s face, and welling in Edward’s eyes. He gripped her wrist more tightly, pressing the charms against her skin, pushing their mark into her flesh. She barely noticed. She could only feel the sear of his eyes burning into hers and the velvet web of his words ensnaring her soul.

“You are my good luck charm,” he said. “My anchor. My religion. My heart.”

She couldn’t breathe. If she took a breath, she knew she would choke on it.

“I love you, Bella. Everything I have is yours. None of it means a damned thing without you.”

She emitted a strangled sob, trying in vain to catch her breath. She was shaking, overwhelmed at the emotion flooding her. It was too much, this declaration - the one thing she couldn’t let herself imagine in her fantasies about Edward or their relationship. But as soon as she heard him say the words, his voice quivering with the intensity of their meaning, she knew they were the ones she’d been waiting for. The ones she was afraid she’d never hear.

Her own voice came to life now, jumping at the chance to speak the words she’d been afraid she’d never get to say back. Words she hoped were the opposite of useless and clumsy.

“You have no idea what you’ve done for me,” she said hoarsely. “How you brought me to life. Made me feel beautiful when I thought I was ugly. Made me whole when I was empty inside.”

He frowned and one of his tears spilled over, running down his cheek. She could see that he didn’t believe it, couldn’t take credit for her awakening. But surely he had seen it, felt it, like the bloom unfolding from a tightly wound rosebud. She continued, desperate to convince him.

“I needed you just as much as you needed me. Wanted you in a way I was afraid I’d never want anyone. Loved you the way I always dreamed I could love someone. I love you, Edward. So much. So much.”

And then the words were swallowed by his lips on hers, taking them back, returning them in kisses instead. The words had done their job. They retreated now, yet still infused every emotion, every action, with the gravity of their meaning. Each caress, each kiss, each look between Edward and Bella was intensified by the verbal expression of what had been there all along. The words gave birth to a symphony; their bodies the instruments, their hearts and souls the melody and harmony.

They came together in the music of love, a gorgeous ballet more meaningful than either of them had dared to hope for. Their weariness was gone; their doubt and worry had joined it. There was nothing in this moment but the crescendo of emotion between them, building to a euphoric climax of utter surrender to one another, and to themselves.

But the pinnacle was the grace note at the finish, sweeter than any they’d ever heard.

“I love you.”

*

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