Chapter 39

The waiting room of Renaissance Escorts bore little resemblance to its owner.

Decorated in soothing shades of soft pink and cream with rich brown accents, this room was designed to convey sheer romance at every turn. Seasonal fresh-cut flowers in clear glass bowls adorned every flat surface, gossamer curtains filtered the gray Seattle sunlight, and fluffy accent pillows made the pale velveteen couch and chairs even more welcoming. The room managed to be modern and elegant, yet warm and comforting at the same time.

Rosalie Hale was none of these things.

Well, to be fair, she did dress in the latest styles, Edward conceded as he sat stiffly in one of the comfy chairs. And she did have a certain elegance in her carriage and demeanor. But she exuded precious little warmth or reassurance to clients, despite her bright smile and encouraging words.

At least, this had been Edward’s observation in his admittedly few personal interactions with his boss. He thought he’d seen a softening in her, though, since she and Emmett had become serious. Surely his friend’s innate good nature had rubbed off on her, and his fiery enthusiasm must have melted some of that icy exterior. Edward was counting on finally seeing the softer side of Rosalie Hale today. After all, Emmett had suggested this meeting between them in the first place, insisting that Rose might surprise him.

Edward shifted in his chair, growing more irritated by the second. She had already made him wait outside her office for a good five minutes now. When he arrived punctually, Tanya had raised her eyes from her computer long enough to inform him that their boss was on the phone, but he had his doubts. Making him wait was a classic power play.

Fine. Two could play that game. He assumed she wanted to ruffle him; put him on the defensive. He wouldn’t let her have the satisfaction. He just needed to keep his eyes on the prize: a future with Bella.

He closed his eyes for a moment and thought back to their morning together. His unhappy surprise at awaking cold and alone in the hotel bed had soon turned to delight when he’d spied her sitting in a chair she’d pulled up next to him, wrapped in a bathrobe, her new sketch pad and pencil in hand. He’d recognized them as the gifts Alice had picked out for her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, stifling a yawn.

“What does it look like?” she answered with a soft smile. “I’m trying to capture my new favorite subject.”

“Too late. You already caught me,” he informed her as he stretched his limbs a bit. “I just hope you don’t throw me back.”

“Not likely.” Her sweet lips stretched into a devilish smirk. “I’m much more likely to stuff you and mount you.”

“Funny, that’s exactly what I had in mind for you,” he shot back, grinning broadly. “Though not necessarily in that order.”

He watched her drawing hand move rapidly over the paper in short strokes, apparently shading in the sketch. Her eyes darted back and forth between his face and the page, studying, deconstructing, then reassembling with the pencil between her fingers. He propped his head up on one elbow and watched her intently for a few minutes. She finally stopped and leaned back in the chair, holding the sketch pad away from her to better appraise her work.

“Let me see,” he begged.

Her cheeks colored and she gave him a bashful look over the top of the sketch book. “It’s not quite finished,” she hedged. “You woke up right when I was getting all the details down.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure it’s great.”

She cringed a little. “Well, I tried. But I don’t think I could ever truly capture how beautiful you are.”

Her words shocked him into silence for a moment. He wanted to laugh at the notion, but something in her eyes sobered him. Last night, she told him that he’d made her feel beautiful when she thought she was ugly. Maybe it worked both ways.

He sat up and reached his hand out to her. “Let me see through your eyes, then.”

She bit her lip, then handed him the sketch book.

He turned it so that he could see her rendering of him. Yes, that was him all right, face half-hidden in the pillow as he lay slumbering on his side, one naked shoulder pushed up to his ear, hand clutching the covers under his chin. Bella had drawn his likeness in soft, feathery strokes mixed with hard, precise lines. Each eyelash, each hair of his thick brows was perfectly defined; even the stubble overtaking the lower part of his face was a study in coarse, lifelike detail. But she had molded his features in muted shades of gray so smooth that his skin looked like flawlessly sculpted stone.

This was a highly idealized version of the face he saw in the mirror each morning. It bore a remarkable resemblance to him, but in truth, she had not captured how beautiful he truly was - she had made him far more so than his reflection ever proved. She had created a paragon of perfection that was nothing like the fallible flesh and blood man he knew himself to be.

Was this how she saw him? How could he live up to an image such as this?

“You don’t like it,” she whispered.

Edward looked up at her stricken face and quickly reassured her. “No, that’s not true. It’s amazing. You never give yourself enough credit. You are incredibly talented. And I am incredibly flattered.” He glanced down at the skilled drawing, then gave her a rueful smile. “I just wish I could live up to this.”

Her elation at his praise quickly fizzled. “What do you mean, live up to it?”

“It’s just . . .” He paused and looked over the handsome guy sleeping so peacefully in Bella’s sketch. “You were so worried about capturing my supposed beauty that you kind of went overboard. I mean, you made me look like a GQ model or something.”

She didn’t join him in his chuckling. “I drew what I saw,” she defended herself quietly.

His smile faded. “That’s what I’m afraid of. That you don’t see me very clearly.”

She shook her head sadly. “Did you ever think that maybe you’re the one who doesn’t see yourself clearly?”

No. No, he didn’t think that. He saw himself all too well. That was the problem.

“Ms. Hale will see you now.” Tanya’s nasal announcement jarred him from his reverie.

Edward rolled his eyes at her formality. “Thank you,” he said curtly as he rose from the velvet chair and strode toward the gold-handled white door of Rosalie Hale’s inner sanctum.

The interior of this space suited its inhabitant much better. Varying shades of ice blue and cool aqua permeated the glass-and-chrome-filled room, matching the glacial smile frozen upon Rosalie Hale’s face.

“Good morning, Edward,” she greeted him from behind her glass-topped, snow-white desk. She didn’t rise to meet him, but held out one hand so that Edward could reach over to shake it.

“Rosalie,” he replied simply, taking a seat in the matching white chair facing the desk.

“You’re looking well,” she commented. She leaned her elbows on the desk and pressed her fingertips together, reminding Edward of a blonde praying mantis.

“As are you. Lovely as always,” he added for good measure. It was no lie. His boss was what most people would call a stunner, a voluptuous blonde with a toothpaste commercial smile and round, iris-colored eyes. The pale blue blouse she now wore made them all the more vivid as they gave him a dispassionate once-over.

Her smile deepened at the corners, dimpling her smooth, peach skin. The iris eyes were calculating despite the warmth of the smile below them. She appraised him the way one might judge a stallion for suitable stud service.

“Every time I see you, I’m reminded why you’re so popular with our clients. You’re almost prettier than they are . . . but not quite. You have just enough ruggedness to entice them, and just enough boyishness to disarm them. Not to mention commendable seduction skills, by all accounts.”

Edward tried not to wince at her assessment. It was a little too close to the one Bella had given him last night.

“I would hate to lose you,” Rosalie continued, cutting right to the chase. Her eyes seemed to search his for clues as to his intentions. “I think we’ve enjoyed a mutually beneficial arrangement for the past couple of years, and I value it highly. I hope you feel the same.”

Edward shifted in his seat, hoping his discomfort wasn’t as evident as he feared. He worked on keeping his congenial poker face intact.

“We’ve had a great run,” he conceded. “That I won’t deny. I appreciate the opportunities you gave me more than you know.”

“I know plenty, actually,” she informed him. “I had a pretty good idea why you came to me from the start, you know. Emmett was kind enough to fill in the blanks.”

“Was he?” Edward couldn’t help but bristle. He should have known his friend’s first loyalty would be to his new live-in girlfriend. But how much had he revealed?

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t betrayed your confidences,” she assured him. “He just gave me a little heads up about your financial situation, that’s all. I always guessed some family crisis forced you into this career choice. You obviously aren’t in it for the ego gratification or your love of women, though I don’t doubt your respect for the fairer sex. Which explains a good part of your success.”

“I would hope all of your employees have a healthy respect for women.”

“That’s the plan. I screen them as best I can. The proof is usually in the pudding, so to speak. If an escort doesn’t generate any repeat business, he won’t last long around here.”

Edward squirmed again. He took a deep breath and crossed his legs the other direction, then gave his boss a winsome smile. If she was about to give him an ultimatum, he wished she would come out with it.

Instead, she studied him coolly for a moment. She looked like she was waiting for something. He wished to God he knew what it was.

Finally, she leaned forward and crossed her arms on the desk. “You’re awfully quiet this morning, Edward. You called this meeting. You must have something you want to get off your chest, so let’s hear it.”

His smile turned wry. She was tossing the ball in his court. Fair enough, he was the one who had called her. He had just never expected her to stay mum about the complaints she must have received about his recent performance, or lack thereof.

“I guess I came here because I owe you an explanation. I’m sure my reviews have been . . . mixed, lately. I know I haven’t been leaving my clients satisfied in the way some of them might prefer.”

Rosalie’s eyebrow raised, but she remained silent. Edward cleared his throat to continue.

“And that particular dissatisfaction is likely to continue. There are certain expectations I will no longer be able to fill as a Renaissance Escorts employee,” he said carefully.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “And what expectations are those, Edward?”

He emitted a short laugh. “You really want me to say it? Out loud?”

“Why not. Are you wearing a wire?” she retorted. “Unless you’re about to tell me you’re an undercover cop, I don’t think there’s anything we can’t discuss here.”

His laugh was genuine this time. “You know I’m not a cop. You can search me for a wire if you want.”

“Tempting, but there’s no need,” she replied with a grin. “Just come out and say it. You don’t want to fuck women for money anymore.”

He gaped at her for a moment, surprised not at her candor, but at her apparent calm. “Okay. I don’t want to fuck women for money anymore. I can’t.”

Edward slumped back in his chair as if a ten-ton weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. Unfortunately, his boss looked a bit as if it had just fallen on her.

She nodded slowly, raising one arm to rest her chin on her hand. “And when did you come to this epiphany?”

“A couple of weeks ago, I guess. I just got to the point where I couldn’t do it anymore.” He looked at Rosalie’s slight frown and added, “I’m sorry. I should have been upfront with you then.”

She appeared as if she was lost in thought for a moment. “I am curious as to what brought about this change. Even though I knew your heart was never in this business, you were always able to put aside any personal reservations and provide the fantasy our customers were looking for. That’s what I always heard, over and over. ‘He knows just what I need. He makes a good impression in public, and an even better one in private.’” She paused, her lips twisting in a wistful smile. “You always tuned right in to whatever they wanted and needed. What made you tune out?”

He was surprised at how easily the answer came. “I found someone who tuned in to me. So I let her. She was what I wanted and needed. And I hadn’t considered that in a very long time.”

Rosalie regarded him thoughtfully, drumming her fingers along her jaw a couple of times. “Was she a customer? Not that it matters. Or is any of my business.”

Edward nodded. “Bella.” He spoke it with a reverence that was not lost on his boss.

“Oh, is she the one who lost the earring, and you were so anxious to give it back to her in person?”

His nod confirmed it. “Surprised the hell out of me. I never saw her coming. Never imagined that kind of complication in my life. Now I can’t imagine my life without it.”

Rosalie’s smile was wry. “Occupational hazard, I suppose. Though I think most people in our line of work have little trouble separating business from their personal lives.” She leaned back in her chair then, letting out a sigh. “But maybe that’s not true. Who in this business isn’t doing it for personal reasons, of one kind or another? They need the money, or they’re looking for something. Maybe escaping something.” Her eyes hardened for a moment, and she reached for a mug of coffee resting on a nearby electric warmer. “Can I get you a cup?” she offered, reverting back to her usual emotionless smile.

“No, thanks.” Edward studied the mask of pleasantry over her rigid posture, and he wondered what nerve had just been struck.

“Well, I fell into the first category,” he said. “I needed the money. What about you? How did you end up here, Rosalie?”

She didn’t seem affronted by his audacity. She merely gave him that humorless grin again before taking a couple sips of coffee and returning the mug to her desk. “I’m sure a shrink would have a heyday with me and my motivations. Why did I become a madam?” she pondered aloud, her tone almost mocking. “I enjoy the money, but I can’t say that was my primary motivation. I would say control is what attracted me to it the most. Control, with maybe a little slice of revenge on the side. Revenge is a dish best served cold, you know.”

Edward frowned at her, wanting to probe further, but unsure he was ready to hear the rest of her story.

Her smile was brittle, her voice eerily calm. “Of course, I’ll never have revenge on the ones who really deserve it. I’d have to be able to remember who they are for that. I barely remember what they did to me. Rohypnol - or whatever they slipped in my drink - has that unfortunate side effect.”

Edward’s eyelids squeezed shut in denial for a second. He felt sick. “Bastards,” he hissed under his breath. He opened his eyes and looked into hers - really looked at her for the first time. “You should have reported it. The cops could have found them. Made them pay.”

“Maybe,” Rose answered doubtfully. “I’m sure I should have done a lot of things. Admitted that it even happened. Reported it. Gone for counseling sooner than I did. But when you’re young and naïve, you worry that you brought it on yourself by sneaking out of your parents house to go to a college party you didn’t tell them about. You’re afraid that no one will believe you. That they’ll label you a slut for the rest of your high school career. So you ignore it and hope it will go away. It never really does, of course. And then, eventually, that festering inner trauma might manifest itself in a career choice that allows you to control men and their sexual habits like puppets on strings, while keeping yourself safe from their advances.

“Until the day, of course, that someone gets past your armor and under your skin. Someone who actually makes you want his advances instead of fearing them. Someone who makes you jealous of every woman you ever made him dance for.” She paused again, her eyes far away. A soft smile had replaced her sneer. Edward knew that Emmett had put that smile there. Emmett, with his imposing features and intimidating stature, hiding a heart of gold.

“I had no idea,” Edward said quietly. “I always tried to understand what the attraction was between you two, but he never let on. Never alluded to anything like what you went through. I’m so sorry, Rosalie. Truly.”

“Don’t be. It was years ago. I knew Emmett would never spill my secrets. He’s as trustworthy as the day is long. I had to work at him for two years to get him to reveal even an inkling of what was going on with you. I still don’t know anything beyond a sick grandmother, a big house and a lot of bills. But it was enough to know you wouldn’t last in this business.

“Still, I hoped to get more out of you than two years,” she said wistfully. “You could have been a successful escort for many years to come. You’re not even twenty-five - you haven’t peaked yet. Not even close.”

His huffed a small, perfunctory laugh. “That’s flattering, I suppose.” His expression turned grim. “So that’s it, then? You’re letting me go?”

Her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Isn’t that why you’re here? To give your notice?”

“Yes. And no.” He raked his hand anxiously through his hair. “I’d like to stay on a bit longer, if the sex isn’t a deal breaker.”

Her forehead creased in confusion. “I don’t understand. What are you proposing?”

He took a deep breath. “The truth is, I need the money for a little while longer. I have an opportunity that may get me back into playing music, which was always my first love; but it’s over a month away. I’d like to give more than two weeks’ notice, if you’d be willing to keep me on the payroll.”

He swallowed back the bile that had risen in his throat. He hated asking her for an extension like that. He hated that he needed to.

Rosalie was still frowning when she replied. “I’d love nothing more than to keep you on the payroll, Edward. But you’ve kind of put me between a rock and a hard place here. As you’re fully aware, I can’t require you to provide sex to our customers, any more than I can promise it to them. I like keeping this business on the right side of the law, at least as far as technicalities go. But bad word of mouth is a killer for me. If word gets around that my escorts don’t deliver, you’d best believe our clients will find ones who do. How can I in good conscience schedule you for dates when I risk losing every single one of those women if they were after a service you no longer provide?”

Edward grimaced, sighing in frustration. “You know your clientele better than anyone else does. Schedule me on dates with the least likelihood of sex being involved. Social functions, parties, reunions. A lot of women don’t want anything more than a public appearance, and you know I’m more than up to that challenge.”

He cringed at the desperation that had crept into his voice. He despised being beholden to anyone, and the piteous look on his boss’s face only made it worse. First Charlotte, now Rosalie. If he had a scrap of savings in the bank to live on, he would get up and walk out of this office right now.

Rosalie sighed and turned to the laptop computer on her desk, pulling up Edward’s schedule for the month. “This coming weekend should be fairly safe - a business dinner Friday, then another reunion Saturday. I had planned to send you to Portland next weekend,” she informed him as she scrolled through the calendar. “Your regulars there are missing you. But I know why they’re missing you, so that’s problematic, at best.”

He knew exactly to whom she was referring, and she was right. She pressed her lips together and scrolled some more. “Well, if I skip the Portland trip, I can send you to another one of those silly college parties instead. I had a Jessica Stanley call just yesterday, quite insistent that you be the one to escort her to some big Greek system gala at the Four Seasons. That sounds like a ‘make my ex-boyfriend jealous’ occasion if I’ve ever heard one.”

Edward smiled in relief. “Definitely. I’m sure I can handle that one.”

Rosalie looked up at him, her own smile now a genuine one. He thought this might be the first time he’d seen a glimpse of the real Rosalie Hale, and it was an eye opener. He should have trusted Emmett’s choice in women a little better.

“All right, then. We’ll play it by ear for now,” she offered. “No expectations, but no guarantees, either. I’ll do my best to make this work for both of us a little while longer. If it doesn’t, maybe I can come up with a severance package that will alleviate your worries a little.”

“Thanks,” Edward said quietly, humbly. “I appreciate that.”

The two were rising from their chairs and shaking hands when Tanya’s voice interrupted from the phone intercom on Rosalie’s desk.

“James Hunter is here to see you.”

Rose pressed her finger to the intercom and replied, “Send him in.” Then, to Edward she added, “Maybe this is a good thing. You’re leaving some very lucrative regulars in the lurch, but something tells me James will be more than happy to help pick up the slack.”

Edward knew he should have been thrilled at the prospect. But when his fellow escort graced them both with a smarmy grin upon entering the room, Edward felt some misgivings. Despite the Mr. Sensitive Ponytail Man demeanor, something about James Hunter struck him as disingenuous, at best. He remembered Emmett calling the guy a weasel, but he’d seemed more worried about Felix than James. Edward just hoped that Rosalie’s stringent screening process hadn’t missed something in either one of them.

“The infamous Edward Cullen,” James said, holding his hand out in greeting. Edward resisted wiping his palm on his pants after their handshake. “Good to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” Edward replied, forcing a smile. “Though I’m not sure what I’m infamous for.”

“Really?” James said, his incredulity almost sounding genuine. “Surely you know how legendary you are at this agency. No one has reached your level of popularity with the ladies at such a young age. You leave the rest of us fighting over your scraps just to eke out a living.”

Edward recoiled inwardly at the man’s callousness. “I’m sure you exaggerate,” he said. Before James could offer a rebuttal, he turned to their boss.

“Thanks again, Rosalie. For everything. You won’t regret it.”

She nodded and gave him another rare genuine smile. Edward watched it morph quickly to rigid plastic as she brightly greeted Mr. Hunter and asked him to have a seat.

.

.

.

Edward’s thoughts were consumed with Bella as he drove out of the downtown parking garage and headed for Charlotte’s estate. He was still trying to reconcile himself to the truth of the portrait Bella had drawn of him earlier, as inaccurate as it looked to his own judgmental eyes. James’s absurd statements about his “legendary” status at Renaissance Escorts made him wonder if Bella was right - that he didn’t see himself clearly.

He saw himself through the lens of familiarity. There was obviously a reason the idiom “familiarity breeds contempt” existed, since fault-finding was his first reaction when forced into self-examination.

This James Hunter character apparently saw him through the eyes of envy. Well, that wouldn’t last much longer. Mr. Not-So-Sensitive Ponytail Man would soon be the happy beneficiary of Edward’s impending resignation from the world of escorting.

So would Bella, and that was all he really cared about. He was one step closer to the life he wanted. And when he thought of what she meant to him what she did for him, it hit him again exactly how she saw him.

She saw him through the eyes of love.

He knew very well how that filter altered everything. Every perception, every desire, every goal. Love made him feel more, want more, try harder. Love made the effort worth it. Bella made everything worth it.

He’d come to that realization earlier, looking at that sketch she’d drawn of him. Much like her poem, it suddenly became the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen expressed on a piece of paper.

She’d drawn him in the image of her love for him.

He replayed their morning together once more, starting where he had left off before his meeting with Rosalie.

He blinked back the moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes as he looked up at Bella. He laid the sketch book on the bed and reached over to grab her hand, pulling her toward him. She happily traded the chair for the bed, sitting down beside him. He took her face in his hand and traced his thumb over her features. His feelings for her painted her in incomparable beauty to him.

“I love how you see me.” He paused, running his fingers over her deliciously plump lower lip. “I love you,” he said for at least the twentieth time since he’d first uttered the words last night. They still had not lost their luster or their novelty. He still felt the thrill of those three syllables as intensely as the first time.

She seemed to feel it, too. She said it back, immediately; and then they dissolved in another kiss. How many kisses had they shared in the last twenty-four hours? Their lips should be raw. But their hunger was insatiable, so they continued to taste one another. She claimed she missed the taste of him in her mouth - it was the one of the few sexual acts they hadn’t engaged last night. The next thing he knew, she was kissing her way down his torso, licking and nipping the soft skin of his belly until she reached the stiffening skin of his cock. Her mouth and hands took him the rest of the way there in no time.

“I love watching you get hard for me,” she whispered, her breath hot on his sex. Her eyes were that magical mixture of love and lust as they met his. “I love the way it feels.”

She wrapped her fingers around his length and flicked her tongue around his swelling head before pressing it into his slit.

“If you want me hard, then let me see you,” he murmured, pushing the terry cloth from her shoulders. She quickly undid the tie on the robe and shrugged it off, her back arching and bare breasts rising as she did so. His cock bounced upward in response, and they both laughed. The laughter stopped when she leaned forward and pressed it between her breasts, squeezing them around it so he could pump its length up and down her breastbone. She tucked her chin and began lapping at the tip of his cock with her tongue every time he thrust, until finally he gave up and simply plunged into her mouth, groaning when she opened her throat to swallow him deep.

She continued teasing him this way for what seemed like an eternity, yet still passed in the blink of an eye. Her mouth and hands were everywhere, licking, sucking, stroking. She wrapped her lips around his sac, pulling one ball at a time into her mouth and sucking rhythmically until she made him moan. Then she cupped one hand beneath them, massaging the root of his cock while taking the rest in her mouth, pushing her lips down as she pushed his balls up. She continued massaging and deep-throating him this way until he was close to erupting. He warned her, as he always did; and she responded only by stilling her lips around him to allow the exquisite release of his seed deep in her mouth. And then, while he gasped and tortured her hair between his fingers, she opened her mouth and let his cum pour out, rolling down the length of him while she lapped it back up and swallowed.

He could find no words to tell her how hot that was; what the sight of it did to him. How could he tell her how much he loved her after she’d sucked him off, without it sounding like he was only appreciative of the blow job? How could he ever describe how much more it meant - how much more she meant - than that? He’d felt it the first time she ever went down on him. It was the first time she’d done that to any man, and she chose him. It was an honor, a privilege, as much now as it was then. Maybe more so, now that the novelty was gone. She still chose him. Still wanted to please him. Still loved him.

He gazed at Bella’s graphite version of Sleeping Beauty after she left him to get a glass of water. The sketch on the bed next to him taunted him, mocking him somehow. Her vision of him was peaceful. Calm. He rarely felt that way. One worry or another had nagged at him for as long as he could remember.

But maybe he was finally finding peace in her. He felt a semblance of it now, settling in his bones as the euphoria of his climax dissipated.

“Here, I thought you might want one, too.” He looked up to see Bella approaching with two glasses of water. She handed one to him as she sat down next to him on the bed.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice coming out a whisper. He looked into her curious brown eyes, and knew his own must be heavy with the countless emotions he couldn’t put names to. He had to put a voice to them, somehow, even if the words felt short.

“No one has ever made me feel the way you make me feel. I love you . . . But it’s so much more than that.” He reached out to touch her hair, to comb through the silky, messy strands. “You’re the most beautiful thing in the world to me.”

She bit her lip slightly, in that way he loved so much. Then she nodded in understanding, and he knew she got it. Felt it, deep inside, the way he did.

He set his jaw in determination as he drove toward Charlotte’s and the Steinway awaiting him. His life still swirled with unknowns; uncertainties that made true peace of mind elusive. But there was one thing he did know for sure.

He would spend the rest of his life making sure Bella Swan saw herself the way he did.

　

　

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.”

*

*

*





　

　

　

Chapter 37

Bella frowned out the window as Edward slowed the Volvo on Alaskan Way, a mere five blocks from the club. She had hoped he would be taking her to his house in Magnolia. But as he flicked on the turn signal, she realized they weren’t leaving the heart of downtown Seattle at all.

“Where are we going?” she asked. She thought that after Highway 99, they would call it a night. Surely he wanted to be alone with her. He’d been eying her more hungrily as the night went on - she wasn’t imagining that. She was looking at him the same way, matching his intensity. The heavy, sensual mood of the club still swirled under her skin, like an undercurrent stirring the heart of an otherwise placid pool. And after Edward sang to her the way he did, the desire to be close to him had burgeoned into an aching need. She was desperate to be alone with him.

She gazed over at his profile, its hues shifting through the full spectrum of the color wheel as the multi-colored city lights illuminated his skin. She kept staring until he felt the burn of her eyes and glanced her way. His eyes burned back, the flames easy to read. His lips pursed into the faintest of smirks before he shifted his attention back to the road before him.

“It’s my turn to surprise you,” he said at last. “Although I’m surprised myself that you haven’t figured it out by now.”

She frowned again, looking at her surroundings. She didn’t know the city that well. But when he made a left onto Madison, she almost slapped her palm to her forehead as the realization hit her. She should have known. He was taking her back to the place they met a seeming lifetime, yet only a few weeks, ago.

They made another turn onto First Avenue, and Hotel 1000 loomed before them. Her stomach lurched nervously in recollection of the sheer terror she’d felt that first night, pulling her crappy old truck into the drive while the valet tried not to snicker. Now, of course, the valet had nothing but respect for “Mr. Cullen’s” racy black convertible as he took the wheel and drove it away. But the reason she’d been so nervous before was still the same reason she was nervous now.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something life-changing was about to happen.

Her palm was sweaty when Edward pressed it to the dry warmth of his own, then linked his fingers between hers. His smile was just as warm, but his eyes were something else - something more. They sparkled at her under the royal blue neon of the entryway as they approached the hotel. Good God, he was sexy. That was the only word she could come up with to describe him sometimes. Everything about him smoldered and beguiled, even when he was wearing a plain old plaid shirt and jeans. The vision of his suit and tie flashed through her mind, as vivid and shockingly gorgeous as the real thing had been when she first laid eyes on him.

She was a little overwhelmed, schlepping along beside him in her own faded jeans, Converse and denim jacket. She was as dressed down as he was, yet felt more grungy somehow. She was a little embarrassed entering the elegant Madison Tower like this, backpack slung over one shoulder like a hobo.

Edward didn’t seem to care how they were dressed. The night concierge still treated him like hotel royalty, nodding and addressing him formally.

“Mr. Cullen, how good to see you again,” the middle-aged gentleman greeted him with a deferential nod. “It’s been too long since we’ve had the pleasure of having you as a guest.”

Edward nodded and smiled in return. “Good to see you, too, Marcus,” he replied in passing. He didn’t stop at the front desk, but guided Bella straight to the elevators instead.

“Don’t we have to sign in?” she asked him.

“No. I checked in this afternoon.”

He was grinning like the Cheshire cat as the elevator doors opened with a muted ding. A couple of passengers exited before Edward and Bella took their place.

“So you had this planned all along,” she said as the doors closed with a swish behind them.

He nodded, grabbing her other hand and pulling her to him. “Do you remember the last time we were in this elevator together?” he murmured.

She bit her lip at the memory of desperate kisses; groping hands. “I was afraid I wouldn’t see you again.”

“Me too,” he whispered. “Even though we both put a little insurance policy in place to make sure that wouldn’t happen.”

“That we did. And it worked.”

“Even if it hadn’t, I think we would have found another way,” he said, leaning down, closing the distance between them. He was about to re-enact their first elevator encounter when the contraption slowed to a halt, its doors parting to let more passengers on. Edward stepped back from Bella with a frustrated sigh, letting go of only one of her hands. The group that had joined them was apparently headed for the same floor they were.

They all dispatched at once when the doors finally reopened, but thankfully soon parted ways. Edward led Bella down the hallway toward his favorite room, the one he’d always used, the Grand Luxe Suite. The room that now held some of his most cherished memories - ones he’d refused to tarnish by bringing anyone else here after her.

Bella’s heart was pounding and she wasn’t sure why. She wanted to be alone with Edward more than anything, so why was she so nervous?

He dropped her hand in order to rifle through his billfold and find the key card. Once the door was unlocked, he held it open and smiled down at Bella, encouraging her to go ahead. He was surprised to see her balk. She stood stock-still, staring at the floor, just like she’d done that first night.

His brows knitted. What was the problem? He went on into the room and flipped the nearest light switch, then turned to take her hand and help her inside, like he’d done before. Her face relaxed a little as she stepped into the room, finally flashing him a small smile.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her bluntly. “Don’t you want to be here with me?”

“What? Yeah, of course,” she assured him. “More than anything.”

“Then what’s going on? You’re looking a little like a deer in the headlights, same as you did the night we met. It feels like we’re starting all over here.”

She let out a shaky breath. “It kind of feels that way to me, for some reason,” she admitted. “Maybe it’s this place. It reminds me how crazy I felt coming here. Hiring you in the first place.” She paused, letting out a sigh. “I guess I was kind of hoping you’d take me to your house again.”

“Oh.” Edward was thrown a little by her admission. Apparently her memories of the night they spent here weren’t as fond as his were. He tried to read her face for signs of disappointment as she shrugged out of her backpack and jean jacket. He quickly grabbed them and set them down with his own bag on a nearby desk, then turned back to face her.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t take you home tonight because Alice is there, and I wanted to be alone with you. I guess I wanted to try to recreate the connection we made that night, here, in this suite. You made this place special for me.” He gave the room a fond once-over. “I kind of miss it.”

“Miss it?” she echoed, not understanding. “I thought you came here all the time. Isn’t this your go-to spot for your dates?” She couldn’t stop a little acid from seeping into that last word.

“It was,” he corrected her. He let out a relieved sigh. Now he got it. He reached out and placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, his thumbs gently stroking her neck. “Bella, I think of this as our place now. I haven’t brought anyone else here since the night we met.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “So that’s what the concierge meant,” she said, remembering his comment to Edward that it had been too long.

“Right. I haven’t been here in almost a month. I’ve been avoiding hotels in general, as much as possible. I don’t want to be with anyone else but you.” He drew her closer, his face dropping toward hers. Her eyes were cautiously hopeful, seeking something he wanted desperately to give her. “I haven’t been with anyone since the last time we were together.”

Her eyes grew rounder. “But . . . that was over a week ago,” she stammered. “Haven’t you been working since then?”

“Working, yes. Working overtime, no. I don’t think I can anymore. I don’t want to.”

She stared at him blankly, afraid to absorb what he was saying. “But how are you getting out of it? I know what I hired you for. I’m not so stupid as to think it isn’t the same reason tons of other women are hiring you.”

“Well, you’re right - some of them have a specific objective in mind,” he agreed. “I haven’t quite been fulfilling some of their expectations this past week.”

Bella’s elation was dampened slightly by worry for him. “But won’t you get in trouble with your agency?”

“Probably.” Edward’s fingers crept up her neck, into the silky hair growing at its nape. He wanted to lose himself in the warmth of her and forget about everything else. “I’m meeting with Rosalie tomorrow. I’ll find out then what she thinks of my latest client reviews.”

“Do you think she’ll fire you?” Bella felt a little guilty that she was rather enamored of the idea.

“I don’t know. I doubt she wants to give me the severance pay,” he said with a sardonic chuckle. “Trust me, I’d love nothing more than to just walk into her office and give my notice on the spot. If I can hold out for just a few more weeks, I’m hoping I can do exactly that. I just hate asking for your patience in the meantime.”

Bella looked up into those pleading eyes, midnight blue in the lamplight, and she felt like she would agree to most anything for him. That kind of surrender was what should have made her afraid. But instead, her anxiety was gone, replaced by the same sureness she felt right after he took her virginity and gave her his vulnerability in return. Was she crazy to trust him? Maybe. Maybe she was just plain crazy, doing the things she’d done this past month. But when she searched his eyes, she found a strange sort of sanity she knew she’d never find with anyone else.

“I just wish you’d tell me what was happening in a few weeks that might change things,” she said at last.

He smiled down at her, and he was tempted. So tempted to let her root for him, let her get caught up in high hopes that might come crashing down on them both like a lead balloon.

“I don’t want to jinx it,” he finally told her. “Let’s just say I have an opportunity to get back into music, and I’m hoping it might lead to some job offers. But until that happens, I don’t want to make you any promises I can’t keep. I know I sound like a broken record, and a fucking cowardly one, at that. I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me. Not as long as you’re trying to find a way to do something you love. And you’re not a coward,” she insisted. “It’s got to be hard to leave behind a job that gives you the kind of security being an escort does. And I have no right to ask that of you, anyway. I don’t want to be a hypocrite. I hired you for sex. This whole thing, whatever we have, started as sex.”

She stopped and took a deep breath. “I guess maybe that’s the one thing I’m afraid of - that this could happen again for you, as long a you’re still in this line of work. That you’ll find someone else. Connect with someone else the way you did me.”

“Impossible,” was his immediate response. His grip tightened gently on her skull beneath his fingers. He wondered how to make her understand how ludicrous that idea was to him. “Bella. I was an escort for over two years and it never happened. I never once experienced anything like our first night together. I know I’ll never find that with anyone else. We were never just about sex. You have to know that.”

She wrapped her hands around his forearms, stroking the light brown hair beneath her fingers. She nodded up at him, believing. Basking in the truth.

“You woke me up,” he continued. “Made me stop being complacent. Made me want more for myself again. And for you, too. I want to give you more.”

“You already do,” she protested feebly.

“It’s not enough,” he shot back. Then he paused for a moment, realizing he was letting his shortcomings take center stage again, when Bella was the star of this show.

“But, I do have a little something to give you in the meantime,” he said, letting a more light-hearted grin spread over his face. He leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss, careful not to linger too long, or he knew he’d never make it any further into the hotel suite before ravishing her. “Come with me, birthday girl.”

He slid one hand down to her shoulder, turning her toward the dining room and pushing her in that direction while he followed close behind. When they reached the entry, he left her to flip the nearby light switch, illuminating the modern-style chandelier suspended over the table. Bella gasped at the sight before her. Multi-colored streamers were strung from the light fixture to the four corners of the room, while every inch of space between sported dozens of helium-filled balloons clinging to the ceiling. Each was tied with a long curly-cue ribbon so that she could grab any of them and pull them down at will.

The table below was covered as well, loaded with more regular air-filled balloons, ribbons, streamers and confetti, creating a chaotic rainbow that made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. It was crazy and colorful and over the top, like a kids’ birthday party on crack. But the fact that he did all of this for her made her throat constrict and her eyes well up, just like his birthday serenade had earlier.

“Edward . . . I . . .” She didn’t know what to say. She knew she was going to cry if she tried to speak.

He looked at her stricken face and began to suspect he’d made a colossal blunder. “I know. It’s overkill, right? Looks like a clown exploded in here,” he said, cringing.

She burst into laughter at that, which made the tears spill over. “Yeah, kind of,” she agreed. She walked over and batted at one of the myriad balloons lolling on the table. “I love it. It’s perfect. Next to the song you sang to me, this is the best thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Edward’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Yeah? So those are tears of joy, not disgust?”

“Definitely,” she said, giggling and wiping her cheeks quickly. “Thank you.” She attacked him in a bear hug, and his arms were only too willing to envelop her. He gave her a kiss on the forehead, knowing that anything more would derail him.

“Don’t thank me yet. You still have to open your presents,” he instructed, nudging her back toward the table.

“There are presents hiding under here?” she joked, batting more balloons out of the way. Sure enough, she uncovered two packages buried beneath the confetti mountain. They resembled Alice’s gifts - one larger, rectangular, flat package, and a much smaller counterpart. Their wrapping paper boasted an artsy graphic that was as colorful as the rest of the room.

“Open the big one first,” Edward ordered.

Bella raised an eyebrow at him. “Bossy much?”

He let out a laugh. “All right, open the small one. Whatever your heart desires.”

She grinned at him, then picked up the larger of the gifts and began to carefully peel back the tape at one end. The paper was creased in several spots and folded unevenly, like the person wrapping it had made a few unsuccessful tries before getting it right.

“I love that you did this yourself,” she said softly.

“Is it that obvious?”

She only smiled and slid her finger down the center of the gift, gently pulling the tape free of the paper.

“Christ. You’re one of those careful un-wrappers. I figured you’d be the type to rip the paper into shreds to get to what’s inside.”

“And I figured you’d be into subdued, tasteful birthday décor,” she retorted as she slowly pulled the gift wrap apart.

They exchanged grins. “Well, I guess we know we can still surprise each other,” he remarked.

Bella nodded, turning her attention back to her gift as she tossed the wrapping paper on the table. Subdued and tasteful definitely described the book she was now holding in her hands. The hardback cover was sheathed in deep crimson parchment-style paper with delicate gold filigree accents framing the front and back. The color scheme reminded her a little of the comforter on Edward’s bed, which made her smile. She opened the book to find a thick sheaf of cream-colored pages, blank save for the fine burgundy rule that stretched across them.

“When I found that poem of yours written on notebook paper, I figured you must like to write the old-fashioned way sometimes, by hand,” Edward explained, examining Bella’s face for evidence of her like or dislike. “I thought you should have a nicer place to write. You can use it for your poems, or as a diary . . . whatever you like.”

“It’s beautiful,” she told him. “Too beautiful to ruin with my scribbles.”

“That book will be lucky to have your scribbles,” he contradicted. “I just hope you’ll let me read them some time.”

“Okay. Maybe,” she hedged, wondering what she would ever write that she’d be proud to have Edward read. She was about to close the book when she noticed some handwritten script inside the cover. She dipped her face closer to the text to read it.

All words contained herein are the sole property and creation of Swan-I-Am.

She laughed at the disclaimer, then looked up at Edward. “Is that the nickname I’ve doomed myself to? Swan-I-Am?”

He grinned. “I kind of like it. But I’m sure I can come up with a few others, if you’d like.”

“Please,” she begged, then lowered her eyes to the rest of his message.

Bella ~

Your words move me. They make me feel things I could never begin to explain or describe. They deserve a canvas as special they are - as special as their author is. (Or at least one that doesn’t have punch holes and perforations down the side.) I hope you find your inspiration here. I know I’ve found mine, in you.

~ Edward

Here it came again - that surge of emotion engulfing her, filling her to the brim until her eyes could no longer contain it.

“You’ve got to stop doing this to me,” she said, trying to blink back more tears.

“Doing what?”

She almost laughed at the panic that flashed across his face.

“Making me cry. I don’t want to cry on my birthday, damn it.” She dabbed her fingers at the corners of her eyes before the tears could start rolling again.

“I’m not trying to make you cry, I swear,” he said, confounded.

She waved the book at him in accusation. “Well, you can’t write such beautiful things to me, and sing to me in a bar full of people - when I didn’t even know you could sing like that, for fuck’s sake - and not expect me to get all choked up.”

His eyes widened in exasperation. “So what are you saying? You want me to stop doing nice things for you?”

“No. It’s just -”

“Because I can be an asshole if you’d prefer, believe me,” he interrupted.

She let out an abrupt laugh through her tears. “I don’t think you can, actually.” Her tone softened. “I wouldn’t want you to.”

“Good. Because I like doing nice things for you,” he said, reaching out to fondle a few strands of hair near her face. “I’d like it even better if you’d let me.”

“All right,” she relented. “As long as you let me return the favor.”

“You already have,” he reminded her. “Here I thought I was going to surprise you by getting on stage tonight, but you were already a step ahead of me, asking that keyboardist to let me play. It felt like my birthday instead of yours.”

“Great minds,” she said with a smile. “Okay, so we’re even.”

“We’re even,” he agreed. He wasn’t sure why that was so important to her, but he let it go.

Bella turned her attention back to the table, carefully setting down the diary and reaching for the smaller gift. She unwrapped it as leisurely as she did the first, prompting Edward to pantomime an exaggerated yawn. She gave his arm a swat before peeling off the last of the wrapping paper to reveal an oblong black box. She slowly opened it to find an elegant pen and pencil set within, the same deep claret and gold as the writing book he’d given her.

“They’re not Montblancs or anything, but they should write pretty well,” he said, sounding almost apologetic. “You can use the pencil for your rough drafts, so you can erase those scribbles you’re so worried about.”

“Good thinking,” she replied. “These are perfect. I would have killed you if you’d splurged on something as expensive as Montblanc.”

“You would have been worth it. And a hell of a lot more.”

She looked up at him with that you’re-too-much expression again, which only made him feel like he could never be enough. He reached out once more to touch her, and he wondered if he did it so often just to make sure she was real. Then the softness of her cheek under his fingertips reminded him that he did it because she felt so fucking good. He leaned down to kiss her for both of those reasons, and so many more that his brain could no longer enumerate them. It now registered only what his senses could perceive: Soft. Warm. Wet. Delicious. Her kiss was better than any dessert he could think of. Better than . . .

“Cake,” his lips murmured against hers.

“What?” she mumbled back, disoriented.

“It’s time for your birthday cake. Before I get any more distracted.”

“But I was kind of enjoying the distraction,” she whispered, reaching her hand up behind his neck in a futile effort to stop him from pulling away.

His sigh came out a little more like a groan. “But I told you I was a full-on birthday specialist, remember? And it’s not a proper birthday without cake. Turning twenty is big. You have to do it up right.”

“And don’t you remember when I told you there is no right or wrong way to do things?

You taste better to me than any cake could,” she whispered, wrapping her other hand around his neck to keep him close.

The sound he emitted was definitely a groan this time. “I was just thinking the same thing about you,” he said, running his thumb over her juicy bottom lip, resisting the urge to taste it once more. “But I still think you should see the cake first before you make up your mind.” He forced himself to disengage from her grip and head for the kitchenette at the other end of the room. Her arms dropped to her sides in disappointment .

“Why? Did you bake it?” she called after him.

“God, no,” he retorted over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t subject you to that.”

“Oh, please,” she scoffed, giving up and sitting down at the table, in the same chair she’d occupied during their first date. “I’ll bet you can bake, too. I’m sure your grandmother taught you well.”

“She did. But even she had her limits,” he called back. She heard the strike of a match, so she leaned over the table to watch him light the candles, though the cake itself was partly out of view on the countertop in front of him. He reappeared in the doorway a minute later, carrying a square layer cake dotted with frosted flowers, glowing under the light of what was presumably twenty candles.

“Neither Emily or I could make something like this,” he said, setting the cake platter atop the ribbon-strewn tabletop, directly in front of Bella.

“Wow,” was all she could muster at the sight of it. Her birthday cake looked like something out of a magazine, geometrically perfect and covered with flawlessly smooth fondant in shades of pale yellow and cornflower blue. The floral embellishments were ornate and exquisitely detailed, from the butter-cream petals and leaves to the tiny edible pearls at their centers. The flowers adorned one corner of the cake and cascaded down two adjacent sides to the platter beneath. Scrawled across the top in a gorgeous script, surrounded by burning blue candles, was the ubiquitous “Happy Birthday, Bella.”

“You’d better make a wish before the wax melts all over the frosting,” he warned her as he sat down in the chair opposite hers.

“Hmm?” she murmured, blinking. She’d been a little mesmerized by the glowing masterpiece. “This is too pretty to eat. Oh, and I need to get a picture of it first!”

She leapt up at the thought of her forgotten new phone and ran for her purse, shoved inside her backpack near the front door. “I can’t believe I haven’t taken any pictures yet tonight,” she lamented as she hopped back to the table, phone in hand. “Or that I didn’t record that killer song you played with the band tonight. And my birthday song,” she added, growing more wistful by the minute.

“That’s probably just as well,” Edward said, wincing.

“What do you mean? You sounded amazing. I still can’t believe you never told me you could sing.”

“That’s because I can’t. Not that well, anyway,” he protested.

Her eyes popped open wide in disbelief. “Are you crazy? I love your voice. I loved hearing you sing even more than hearing you play.”

He chortled and made a face like she was out of her mind, which only incensed her further.

“Sing it for me again,” she demanded.

“What?” His grin withered.

“Sing me ‘Happy Birthday’ again, so I can record it this time.”

“Oh-ho no,” he refused, shaking his head. “I can’t. Not without accompaniment. There’s no piano in here tonight.”

“You don’t need a piano. What’s that Lauren Bacall line from that old movie? ‘You just put your lips together and blow.’”

“That’s for whistling,” he corrected her.

“Whatever.” She ignored his continued head shakes of protest and turned on the video recording button of her phone. She held it up until both her gourmet cake and Edward’s reluctant face were centered in the display screen.

“Sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me, Edward. You have to, so I can blow out the candles and make a wish.”

“Geezus,” he grumbled, squinting and rubbing one eye with his fingertips before letting out an exaggerated sigh. He’d never been that confident in his singing abilities, especially without a piano to keep him on pitch. But one look into those expectant brown eyes of hers soon had him singing “Happy Birthday, dear Bella,” in a husky, faltering tenor.

She barely noticed the nervous break in his voice. She was too enthralled by the liquid warmth of it, seeping down her spine like a shot of Black Velvet over crackling ice. The look in his eyes as he sang to her was every bit as intoxicating. She watched as his exasperation quickly faded to resignation, then turned to affection. This a cappella serenade was even more intimate than the version he’d performed earlier. Now there was nothing else to detract from his soft vibrato traveling across the table to her, making the candles waver slightly in its wake. Nothing to keep him from staring into her eyes with relentless and uncanny perception, reading what she was sure was written plainly there.

I’m so in love with you.

She felt like it might as well be tattooed all over her body, carved indelibly into each cell. She knew now that she had loved him all along. Loved him since that first night. Loved him at first sight, first sound, first touch. She could no longer argue with the idea, pushing it aside because it might be foolish and she might get hurt. The love simply was. There was no denying it or excusing it away. She felt its aura radiating from her, filling the space between them, wrapping itself around Edward and drawing him to her.

“Happy birthday to you.” His voice was nearly a whisper as he finished the song.

The air was heavy and still. He looked at the Bella’s face, glowing with something far brighter than the candlelight between them. He knew he had to capture that look and hold onto it forever. He reached one hand out across the table, gently withdrawing the phone from her hand and pointing it back at her.

“Make a wish,” he said.

She gazed at him for a long moment, letting him luxuriate in those dark pools before her lashes fell and concealed them. She smiled that little Mona Lisa smile; then she took a deep breath and blew.

She extinguished the entire circle of candles with one breath while Edward recorded the feat. He couldn’t clap and hold the phone at the same time, so he made sure he gave her a loud whoop of congratulations.

“That’s my girl,” he concluded with a chuckle. “Complete annihilation with one blow.”

She bit her lip and glanced down at the cake before quirking an eyebrow at him. “I do give one hell of a blow job, don’t I?”

His laugh was an exclamation this time. “You’ll get no arguments from me. And I’m guessing that this video isn’t going to get sent to your parents anytime soon.”

“Ha! Not without some serious editing.”

Edward turned off the camera and handed it back to Bella, then returned to the kitchenette to retrieve serving plates, napkins and utensils. After setting them on the gaudy tabletop, he poised the knife over the cake and asked, “Frosting flowers: yes or no?”

“Yes,” she answered immediately. “Lots of them. I intend to get a full-on sugar high in the next ten minutes. I won’t be responsible for my actions after that.”

“Is that a promise?” He gave her a suggestive smirk and proceeded to cut a large corner piece of cake for her, loaded with butter-cream flora. He cut himself a piece with far less fondant, pushed the cake platter out of the way, then sat across from her and grabbed a fork.

Bella grinned at the flavors he’d chosen. “Chocolate and white?” she commented, scooping a forkful of the darker bottom layer.

“I didn’t know which you liked better, so I went with a layer of each.”

“Well, I like both. But chocolate definitely wins that battle.”

“And now I know something else about you,” he said with a smile.

“What about you? Which do you like best - dark or light?” Her question brought memories of their beach date rushing back to him.

“You can’t have one without the other,” he repeated her words from that day.

“Right. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“More Twenty Questions,” he teased. “That’s two different questions, anyway. I prefer the light to darkness. But the decadence of chocolate is hard to resist.”

He took a bite and chewed slowly, savoring the flavor, imagining it was the taste of those big brown eyes beckoning from the other side of the cake. Suddenly she giggled, and her cheeks reddened. She averted her eyes to her cake and cut into it with her fork.

“What were you thinking just now?” he demanded.

And there was his favorite bashful grin. “This just reminded me of our first dinner. Sitting in these exact spots, across from each other, eating dessert.”

Her grin stretched wider, like she was smiling at some secret joke she was keeping from him.

“And . . . ?” he prompted her impatiently.

“And, that was the first time I fantasized about you,” she admitted. She treated him to a long, tantalizing look before she turned her attention back to her cake.

“Really,” he said, a statement more than a question. He let that sink in for a minute. They had barely had a conversation by then, and the one they did have was rife with brutal candor. He’d done a very poor job of seducing her at that point.

“So, what was your fantasy?” he probed. He folded his arms on the table and leaned forward, staring at her intently.

She looked up at him from under her lashes without raising her head. “I imagined leaning over the table and eating that tiramisu right out of your mouth,” she said quietly.

His left eyebrow arched. “Why didn’t you?” he asked, his voice just as hushed.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t be that forward with you.”

“But you bought the right to be whatever you wanted to be with me. Forward, backward, and anything in between.”

“Maybe I didn’t know what I wanted. Not until you helped me figure it out.”

“You knew exactly what you wanted,” he contradicted her. He’d deduced that from the start. “You just couldn’t acknowledge it yet. You couldn’t accept that part of yourself that needed release. The part that wanted to give in to basic human desire.”

Bella could feel her breath coming harder now. She was mimicking Edward, leaning over the table, her half-eaten cake forgotten as her eyes locked with his. She knew he spoke the truth.

“You made me give in,” she whispered. “You set me free.”

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. “You were already on the brink. I just gave you a little nudge.”

She shook her head. He’d given her far more than a nudge. He’d pushed her off the ledge so that her wings were forced to take flight. And then she’d soared, so high; and higher still, each time she was with him. She never wanted to come down.

“You were the only one who could have done it,” she told him. “I was ready because of you. I was ready because I wanted you.”

Their eyes fused across the table, bristling with the current of their mutual desire.

“What do you want now, Bella?”

It was all he could do to break the connection long enough to look down, pick up his fork and spear a bite of cake. His eyes snapped back to hers at the speed of light. But the fork was a ten-ton weight in his hand, heavy with portent as he slid it into his mouth. He felt like he was moving in slow motion as he pulled it back out, laid it on the table, and began to chew. The anticipation made the seconds drag into an eternity.

Bella felt the gravity of it as he taunted her with her fantasy. He was going to make it come true right now. All she had to do was act this time instead of wishing.

In the literal blink of an eye, the wait was over. Bella lunged from her chair and over the table; Edward stood and leaned in to meet her halfway. Then there was nothing but his mouth, filled with melting sugar, merging with her own. Their tongues scrambled awkwardly to keep the cake in their mouths, to no avail. They began to laugh; crumbs fell to the table and frosting smeared around their lips. They opened their eyes to look at the glorious mess they’d made of one another. Then they laughed and kissed some more, until the cake and the humor were gone, and the kiss was all that remained.

Edward broke away at last, panting, raising one hand to cradle Bella’s face as his eyes questioned hers.

“What was next?” he asked, his breath quick and urgent on her face.

“Next?” she repeated woozily.

“Your fantasy. What happened next?”

She tried to catch her breath as she thought back to that night. “Well, I’m pretty sure I untied your tie . . . which you’re not wearing right now,” she said, lifting her hand to his naked throat, gently stroking his Adam’s apple. He swallowed and it bobbed under her touch. “And then I unbuttoned your shirt . . . but you’re already unbuttoned,” she continued, running her fingers slowly down the thin cotton of the t-shirt he wore beneath a faded plaid over-shirt.

“I guess we’ll have improvise,” he murmured, watching her hand descend toward the waistband of his jeans.

She nodded, giving him a wicked glance before focusing on his button fly. “These are a little tighter than your suit was. In my fantasy, I was able to slide my hand right down the front . . . all the way.” She stuffed her fingers under the denim waistband and stroked curls of his happy trail, up and down. Like a good soldier, Junior began to salute.

Edward exhaled heavily, relishing the feel of her warm fingers on his stomach. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

She reached her hand down further, underneath the elastic of his briefs. The minute her fingers grazed that stiffening rod of flesh, she replied, “I most definitely found what I was looking for. And then some.”

Edward tried to relax the grip he had on her jaw, his hand still holding her face close to his though the table separated their bodies. “And how did I respond to this . . . discovery of yours?”

Her eyelids were heavy with desire, as was her breath on his face. “You took my virginity, right here. On this table.” He felt her fingers leave his pants and travel beneath his t-shirt until her hand rested on his bare chest. “You gave me a first time I’ll never forget.”

He knew her last words were the truth. She was no longer delving in fantasy. She was speaking of reality. And he knew this reality would far surpass anything either of their minds could conjure up.

He let go of her face and stood upright, then took her hand and guided her to meet him at the head of the table. As soon as they arrived, he grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her onto its streamer-covered surface, knocking balloons to the floor below. She’d barely got out a shriek of laughter before he silenced it with a kiss, crushing her so close to him that she couldn’t catch her breath. When he finally stopped, she gasped for air, gripping his shoulders to get her bearings. His fingers combed through her hair, massaging her scalp, holding her face near his.

“Undress me,” he ordered. His eyes were emerald flames licking at her, his voice liquid persuasion. She needed no other enticement. This was her fantasy, after all.

She pushed the plaid over his shoulders and lifted the white cotton from his torso. He raised his arms in obedience, eager to expedite the process. But once his pale, magnificent flesh was exposed, she faltered, wanting to savor the sight and feel of him. She ran her hands slowly down the scratchy stubble of his neck, over the smooth skin of his shoulders and the swell of his biceps, over his long forearms to his elegant hands. She briefly clasped their warmth in hers before letting go and returning to the sparse curls of hair on his chest. She smoothed her palms over his pectorals, then swirled her fingertips over his nipples until they became hard, pink buttons under her touch. Without thinking, she knelt her head and pressed wet lips to one, then the other, before kissing her way across the expanse of warm skin between them. She was right - nothing could taste better to her than he did.

Edward’s sighs were full of appreciation. God, how he’d missed her. The gentle touch of her hands all over him, the warmth of her lips on his skin . . . this was his nirvana. He had to feel her, kiss her, the same way. He assumed that at some point in this first-time fantasy of hers, he had undressed her, so he went for it now, pulling at the hem of her t-shirt until she raised her arms and let him remove it. He wasted no time reaching around to unhook her bra, sliding his fingers beneath it to loosen it, then moving them to the front so that he could caress the round swells of her breasts.

It was her turn for sighs, her eyes closing for a moment to savor the sensation of her nipples responding to his touch. Their hardening corresponded to a distinct clenching of the muscles deep in her belly, like the nerve endings between them were hotwired together. When Edward removed the flimsy bra and knelt to suck her left breast into his mouth, she was sure of the connection. Her fingers sank into the thick hair at the nape of his neck, clutching him tightly as his tongue and teeth worked her left nipple into a swollen knot while her genitals burned with envy. By the time he switched his affections to her right breast, her back was arching and her thighs were spreading in readiness.

Edward’s body reacted instinctively, one hand sliding down her back to her hip, pulling her body closer. His dick strained against his jeans, pressing into her abdomen; their owners moaned softly in unison. Instinct and desire drove Bella’s hands from his hair, down to free Junior from its denim prison. She worked at the buttons with nimble fingers, then shoved Edward’s jeans and briefs down until his erection sprang free. The burning between her thighs increased as she stared at it, longer and thicker and pinker than she remembered.

Why was she always startled for a moment at the sight of that engorged penis? Perhaps because she was still amazed that her body had learned to accommodate it - no, welcome it - so quickly. She wrapped her fingers around it now in a firm handshake, reintroducing herself to its hard, silky heat. It responded by twitching slightly under her touch, its owner tilting his hips toward her and emitting the loveliest of moans.

Bella lifted her eyes back to Edward’s, blazing at her from beneath heavy lids. His breath grew more labored as she stroked him, and his eyelids closed more frequently as his pleasure intensified. Finally he grabbed her face and dove in for a kiss, his lips hard on hers, tongue probing her mouth in time to the rhythm of her hand working his cock. Her own tongue moved with his, swirling, pushing, dancing in mimicry of the sexual act it presaged.

By the time they broke apart in gasping moans, Edward’s hands had traveled the length of her body to her own jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them hastily. But now he needed her help.

“Lie down,” he ordered, his voice thick with lust.

But she was already resting back on her elbows, hips tilted upward in readiness. He gripped the denim waistband of her pants and yanked firmly until they slid down over her hips, then her thighs. Her underwear came with them, and he grunted at the sight of the juicy pink flesh between her legs. He couldn’t remember ever wanting someone the way he wanted her, right now.

He made quick work of her sneakers, letting them fall to the floor before removing her pants entirely and tossing them to the nearest chair. He finished undressing himself as well, letting his own clothes and shoes lie in a pile at his feet. When he turned his eyes back to her, she was lying flat on the table, hair fanned out around her head in a dark halo. The cake platter crowned her, and their plates of half-eaten confection rested by her sides. Beneath her lay a rainbow of streamers, ribbons and glittering confetti, a colorful backdrop which served to highlight the glowing perfection of her ivory skin. She was a vision, an angel, a work of art.

But “God, you’re beautiful,” was all he could seem to muster at the sight.

She looked up into his adoring, hungry eyes and her own hunger and adoration mounted. She felt exposed and on display, yet Edward’s obvious appreciation made her brave. It heightened her desire, as did his fully aroused cock pointing at her. Its proximity to her open legs made the muscles within her begin to pulse again, squeezing open and shut, ready to grip that fleshy rod deep inside.

Her eyes closed and she moaned softly at the feel of his hands on her once more, cradling her knees and then sliding up the insides of her thighs. She gasped at the sensation of his fingers stroking her sex, first tracing the outer lips, then spreading them to reach the tender, damp flesh between. He used both hands, taking turns probing her most sensitive spots until she was slippery with desire. Her eyes rolled back in her head slightly and her moan was louder this time. God, what he did to her, with just a touch . . .

Edward thrilled to her responsiveness. The way her body surged up to meet him; the unchecked sounds she made. This was why he wanted to bring her here, instead of his house. There was a magic that happened when they were alone, truly alone, with no one else in earshot. No one to make her inhibited or self-conscious. No one to stop her sexuality from fully expressing itself.

He stood upright to look at her, lying spread-eagle before him like that first night, lit now by the golden light of a ceiling fixture filtered through a dozen multi-colored balloons. The pink petals of her sex and the rosy peaks of her breasts were far more gorgeous than the sculpted flowers on the nearby cake. Still, their proximity gave him an idea that he couldn’t resist.

Grinning, he reached over to Bella’s half-eaten cake and scooped up one of the larger frosting flowers with his fingers, trying to keep the petals intact.

“Hold still,” he instructed as he leaned over her.

“What are you . . . ?” she began, then stopped as his intent became clear. She gaped in surprise as Edward positioned the yellow flower directly over her right nipple.

“Oh my God,” she exclaimed with a slight shriek when the cold icing hit her skin. Then she began giggling, and the flower wobbled precariously.

“Don’t laugh,” he ordered, though he was having trouble holding it in himself. “It’ll fall off.”

“And what a tragedy that would be,” she commented sarcastically. She watched in silence as he topped her other breast with another flower, this one blue. He stood up, grinning down at her, looking quite pleased with himself.

“At least you could have made them match,” she reprimanded him, still trying not to laugh.

“That would be boring. You’re more unique than that. One of a kind, actually.”

She felt a full-body flush race through her at his words; at his eyes appraising her. When his gaze lingered between her legs, the flush only increased.

“Please tell me you’re not going to smear frosting down there,” she begged. She couldn’t decide if that would be sexy, or a hygienic disaster.

He looked as if he were considering the implications as well. “I don’t think I will,” he concluded. “That particular flower is absolutely perfect the way it is. Not that those aren’t,” he added quickly with a glance at her iced breasts. “But I don’t want to ruin the flavor of this.” He reached his clean hand down to her pussy, stroking it for a moment and then putting his fingers to his mouth to lick her essence from them. “So much better than frosting,” he told her, his eyes burning into hers once more. Then he brought his icing-covered hand to his mouth, but her voice stopped him before he could lick them clean.

“Let me,” she said.

A shot of pure adrenalin coursed through him as he reached his hand down to her lips. She grabbed it and pulled his frosting-filled fingers into her mouth, licking them up and down with languorous thoroughness. Her eyes were heavy with innuendo as she sucked each finger down to the bottom knuckle, her tongue tickling the webs of flesh between. His cock throbbed with envy; he stroked himself in accompaniment until she was finished. He was dying to attack her now, to suck those flowers from her breasts, drink deep from her pussy and fuck her until she screamed his name.

But at the same time, he wanted to memorize how she looked right now, an ethereal sculpture, the epitome of beauty, the embodiment of everything that drove him to aching want and need.

And then he spied her smartphone from the corner of his eye, and his dilemma was solved. He grabbed it and turned it on, while Bella stirred beneath him in protest.

“You are not going to film me,” she commanded. The embarrassment and self-consciousness she thought she’d gotten rid of came rushing back in full force.

“No, I’m not,” he assured her quickly, before she lurched up and ruined the moment. “It would be very easy for me to record a very hot porno right now, but I wouldn’t do that to you. Not until you’re ready.” He grinned at the indignation flaring in her eyes. “But I would take a picture to capture how gorgeous you look right now. A birthday portrait to end all birthday portraits.”

Bella knew her cheeks were flaming despite her attempts to remain calm. “I’m sure I look ridiculous. I have yellow and blue cake flowers for boobs.”

“You’re a fucking work of art,” he shot back, his humor fading. “You have no idea.” He shook his head and centered her image on the smartphone display screen. “No idea.”

An eerie thrill shot through her at the tone in his voice, the look in his eyes. The same look from earlier. So intense it made her burn deep within more than ever before.

“At least cover up my snatch,” she said weakly, grabbing a nearby streamer to throw between her legs. She couldn’t close them because his own thighs stood between them. He stopped her efforts to cover herself with The Look again.

“That,” he said emphatically, looking straight at her wide-open pussy, “is the most beautiful flower on this table. Don’t you dare cover it up, or be ashamed of it.” His eyes met hers, softer this time. “Don’t you remember what I told you that first night? There’s no room for shame here. Not with me.”

Oh, God. There they came again - the tears. She squeezed her lids shut for a moment to force them back. Then she opened her eyes and looked straight into his, giving him her own Look back.


No shame. I’m ready. I want this. I want you.

He saw the surrender in her eyes once more, just like the first time. Overwhelming relief and desire surged through him at once. That rule-breaking free spirit of hers was back.

One picture was all it took. He knew he’d captured the moment as soon as he saw the still frame on the phone. That angelic face, those devil-may-care eyes. Those sensual curves offering the promise of ecstasy. It was all there, captured for an eternity: his temptation, his salvation, his reason for being.

But he took one more picture, enlarging the parameters this time. At the base of his human Venus hovered his own rigid flesh-and-blood sword, desperate to invade and conquer the beauty that lay before it. To disappear inside its warm depths; to be surrounded by its embrace and coaxed to a climax of utter euphoria and release. He already knew where she would take him. He only hoped to take her there with him.

Edward dropped the phone to the table and fell on Bella with an urgency that surprised neither of them. He devoured the flowers from her breasts, their sugary sweetness tempered by the creamy tartness of her flesh beneath. His hands were everywhere, sparking every inch of her skin to life as his mouth traveled down her torso, scattering kisses and tender love bites in a chaotic pattern leading to her groin. And then his lips were on her nether lips, sucking them, parting them, tongue plunging ahead until it found the sweet nectar dripping from her opening.

She sighed and moaned as he licked and probed. Her hands became tangled in the locks of his bronze hair, thick and soft compared to the rough stubble that ignited the flesh between her thighs. Her hips undulated beneath him, urging his tongue deeper inside. The sounds they uttered became increasingly urgent and primal until he finally tore his mouth from her sex and plunged two fingers inside her instead.

She cried out and her hips surged upward, pulling his fingers in deeper. He wanted to be more gentle with her, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from thrusting his hand in short, quick bursts that had her body tensing and rising off the table. Her exclamations matched the quaking of her body - gasps of, “Oh God - Oh yes - Oh please - Oh fuck” that only spurred him on. Her body loved the manic pace, and he could feel it escalating toward orgasm. She was going to come already. He suspected he would love it as much as she did.

Bella squirmed and bucked on the table, wanting to grab Edward’s wrist and stop him, but knowing she would do no such thing. He had masturbated her like this in his bedroom last week, but this was even more intense, almost brutal, yet so maddeningly pleasurable that she wanted to scream. She did scream, at last. Her climax was too strong for her to contain it. She’d never come quite like this before, her muscles contracting so tightly that they squeezed Edward’s fingers for one agonizingly endless moment before releasing and contracting again.

She sobbed in release as she came undone more thoroughly than ever before at Edward’s hands. Through the haze of her ecstasy she saw him staring down at her, his eyes glassy in wonder and satisfaction. He loved making her this way, the smug bastard. Perversely, she loved his smugness, his sureness, his sheer elation at doing this to her.

And when he finally released her, she quickly realized he wasn’t done yet.

He disappeared briefly, leaning over to retrieve his jeans from the floor. He reappeared with a condom wrapper in hand, fiddling with it until he tore it open and rolled the latex onto his rock-hard cock. She moaned at the sight of it, still reeling from what he’d done to her. And now he wanted to do it again, already? She didn’t know if she could take another orgasm like that one.

“I know, you hate condoms,” he said, misreading her dismay. “But honestly, baby, in the state you’re in, you’re not going to notice it, I promise you.”

She tried to catch her breath, to ready herself for the next sensual onslaught. But when he rubbed his erection up and down her still-sensitive clit, she gasped again at the intensity. And when he pushed it inside her, it knocked the wind out of her entirely. It came rushing out of her lungs in two desperate syllables:

“God, yes!”

Edward stopped short after her loud, wanton cry. He had never seen her like this: bathed in a sheen of sweat, skin bright pink from her chest to her forehead, lungs heaving, back arching. She seemed to be in some kind of sexual thrall, and she was rapidly pulling him in with her. He grasped her hips firmly in his hands and thrust deep, his cock sliding easily into her tight opening, as drenched as she was with arousal. He hated the condom now himself, wishing he could feel that wet heaven encasing him. But the friction created by his repeated thrusting soon had him riding that wave of growing ecstasy, panting and moaning along with her.

Bella didn’t know what to do with her hands. She buried them in her own hair, not being able to reach Edward, other than to occasionally grip his hands or forearms. The two of them watched with lust-filled fascination as every inch of his thick cock disappeared inside her, then reappeared briefly before plunging deep once more. As his rhythm increased, he lifted her hips right off the table, pulling her body flush to his with each thrust. Only her shoulders and head remained supported by her table full of birthday streamers. The rest of her was suspended in air, held aloft by Edward’s hands gripping her hips and his cock pounding her pussy, faster and faster, deeper and deeper, until she couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to come. Her body was screaming for the release.

Her hand reached for her clit before she even knew what she was doing. She stroked herself rapidly, willing the blood flooding her groin to come to a boiling point and finally spill over.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” Edward gasped. He didn’t know what was better - watching her fondle herself, or feeling the pressure of her fingers on him while he fucked her. “Oh baby, you’re killing me. You’re so fucking sexy. Christ.”

He tried to shut up then, because he knew he sounded like an idiot. But he couldn’t seem to care. Bella didn’t seem to care, either. She even joined him as her own pleasure escalated. Her eyes squeezed shut and she finally cried, “I’m going to come, I’m going to come . . .”

God, yes! He couldn’t wait to see it again, to feel it this time. But she was too far away.

“Come here, baby,” he whispered. “Let me see you.”

He lowered her to the table long enough to slide his hands under her shoulders and pull her upright. They were face to face now, eyes locked in crazed anticipation. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his torso as he pulled her closer. He began moving inside her again, building quickly to the crescendo they’d both been waiting for.

Bella found herself bouncing off the table once more, hanging onto Edward for dear life, suspended in air and impaled on his cock, so deep . . . so deep. How could anyone be so deep inside her? Could he be any more a part of her than he was right now?

She looked just as deep into his eyes and then cried out at the answer. No. Her body convulsed all around him in a lovers’ mantra: Mine. Mine. Mine.

Edward clutched her writhing form to his and the same possessive thoughts flooded him. This girl . . . Dear God, this girl. He would never let her go.

He set her back on the table as her orgasm subsided, but he didn’t release her. They were both shaking. It was all Edward could do to keep from coming himself, but he wasn’t about to let this end. Not yet.

Bella’s breathing slowed, and she relaxed in the cradle of his arms as he gently rubbed her back and covered her face with tiny kisses. When he finally withdrew from inside her, she realized that he hadn’t come along with her on this last ride. She glanced down at cock, still rock hard, pointing up at her.

Her brow creased in confusion. “Why didn’t you come?”

His crooked grin was maddening. “Because I’m not finished with you yet.”

She stared at him in a mixture of trepidation and excitement.

“What do you mean?” she finally asked him warily.

His grin grew positively wicked.

“You didn’t think I’d forget about your birthday spanking, did you?”