But the thing was—if I was being honest—I felt like I might explode pretty soon. Or maybe implode; whatever happens to someone who has basically dangled on the edge of orgasm for nearly three weeks. We'd be kissing and holding and fondling on his couch or mine, but we had yet to go any further than we did the day after I first came to his house. One of us would always stop it with my bra still clasped and both our pants still buttoned and zipped, and there would be this frustrating moment where we'd look at each other and know it wasn't the right time, no matter how much we wanted it to be.

And desperate Bella requires desperate measures. I spent extra time on myself before leaving for his house, getting ready to go over to Edward's house. His brother was still out of town on some class trip and wasn't due back until Thursday, when I would finally meet him. To celebrate one of the last times we would be alone in his house, Edward had promised to cook me dinner. I had no idea if he was at all functional in the kitchen, but at this point, I didn't really give a shit.

I showered and did my makeup a little darker than usual, using tips I'd picked up from Alice over the years to make my eyes smoky and defined. After my hair was dry, I added a little of this serum stuff that smelled awesome and made the brown waves look shiny and intentional, rather than messy and unfortunate.

I shimmied into dark blue skinny jeans and gray Mary-Janes from Alice's closet, along with a black scoop-neck sweater that made my average cleavage look much better than average. My normal style wasn't exactly modest, but it wasn't too often that I put on something that showed off this much of my skin. But I knew how much Edward loved my shoulders and chest, and I wanted to present at least some form of temptation, damn it. It could only help.

During one late-night viewing of Step Up, he had confessed how much he loved the chick's clothes in just about every scene. Now, that could have been blamed on the four or five drinks he'd had and the fact that it was three in the morning, but I suspected that he might have a dancer fetish. I had a pair of dark gray and black striped leg warmers that I slid on over my jeans, hooking them around my shoes to complete the outfit. It was a little eighties. Maybe I'd cut off the sleeves of one of my hoodies and just go in complete Footloose style.

Seduction, Bella. The point is seduction.

I lifted one eyebrow at my reflection in the mirror, smiled, and whispered, "Look out, Edward."

The drive to his house was relatively short, which was good for my gas tank, but made working up courage more difficult. I knew that the times where I needed to be 'come-hither' the most were usually the times where I ended up being more along the lines of, 'run while you still can.' And the last thing I needed tonight was to go home red-faced and still horny.

I gathered my purse and the dessert I'd promised—homemade raspberry chocolate cheesecake, thank God for the cooking channel—and stepped out into the cold night. My breath was visible in foggy vapors on the air, and I concentrated on trying to blow smoke rings like Emmett and I used to do every time it got cold enough. He was always way better at it than I was. I took a deep breath, which just made every hair in my nose turn instantly rigid, causing me to cough until I sounded like I'd just smoked a whole pack at once.

Sexy. Okay, time to go in. I rubbed my nose until it warmed again, then tapped my knuckles on the door.

When my knock met with silence, I cracked the door open, relieved by the blast of heat on my face as it chased away the cold. "Edward?"

"Yeah, come in!" he called from the kitchen.

I stepped in the rest of the way and took another deep breath, exhaling in a groan. Fuck, it smelled good in his house.

There was music playing on his living room stereo, some band that was obscure enough that even I didn't recognize it, and he'd lit three cream-colored candles on a small table that sat in the middle of the room. I smiled softly, feeling unspeakably lucky again. He had this uncanny ability to make me wonder if all that shit I'd seen in romantic comedies over the years was actually what I wanted. I liked it.

"It smells great in here, Edward, I—" My compliment was cut off when I walked around the corner, stopping dead.

Edward had a baking glove on his left hand, and was stirring a pot of something with a spoon in his right. That alone would have made me giggle. But the fact that he was wearing a frilly purple apron over his black button-down shirt—the kind that ties around your waist and sort of looks like a skirt, when it's all said and done—made me double over, nearly dropping the cheesecake. It would have been a worthy loss.

"Fine, fine, laugh it up," he muttered, turning back to his cooking while I tried to keep tears from ruining my makeup. "It's Rosalie's. I didn't want to ruin my clothes."

Man, it would be nice to be able to control my hysterics.

"I'm sorry," I gasped, holding my stomach as I straightened up and set the cake down on the counter. "I'm sorry, but you look so…fucking…hot…" I couldn't get the rest of the words out before a new round of chuckles cut me off. Trying to distract myself, I slipped out of my coat and threw it over one of the stools, tossing my hair over my shoulder.

"Mm, speaking of fucking hot." His voice and body were suddenly just right there, and I would have jumped in surprise if it hadn't have been so welcome. Breath that smelled like spearmint tingled on my ear, and warm arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me into his lean body. My heart skittered around in my chest, and my sigh came out unevenly.

"What are you making?" I whispered, my head falling back on his shoulder.

"Does it matter?" he asked, nudging my hair to the side so he could kiss the side of my neck.

"Only a little," I responded, but it came out kind of incoherently. I cleared my throat, trying to gain back some sense. "But you know, if you don't feed me, I won't have any energy for later."

His arms tightened a little, mouth pulling away from my neck. "Later?" he asked, the raspy tone of his voice giving him away, even if the sudden twitch against my lower back hadn't.

I turned in his arms, blinking up at his wary expression innocently. "Oh, yes, Edward. Didn't you tell me that I was supposed to bring the dessert?" I asked coyly, and smirked when his jaw dropped. Score.

"Uhh, I…well, yeah," he stammered, one hand in his pocket, the other scratching the back of his neck.

I really tried to keep the game face on, but seeing him all flustered and adorable made that impossible, and I snickered quietly. "You are so cute."

Edward's eyes narrowed and he snorted. "And you are evil. If the food gets burnt, you have no one to blame but yourself." He started stirring again, adding a few spices to the sauce in the pot, then lifted the ladle to his mouth for a taste.

There might have been a little extra moisture in my mouth and…other places, seeing his tongue slip out to lick the sauce away from his lips. The man seemed to have no concept of how much of a turn-on it was that he'd made this dinner, dressed up, cleaned the house, lit candles. I thought I might melt like the wax that was pooling on the table out in the living room.

"Is there anything I can do?" I offered, clearing my throat when my words came out a little hoarse.

He shook his head, turning to smile at me. "Nope. I've got about fifteen minutes left. Stella is at the neighbor's, hanging out with their twelve-year-old. I'm sure you could go over and say 'hi' to her. Otherwise, you can read in the living room if you'd like."

I walked forward, put my arms around him from behind, and rested my cheek between his shoulder blades. "I'd rather stay here with you," I murmured, squeezing him a little.

A low chuckle vibrated in his chest. "I'd rather you stay with me, too."

It took him a little longer to get everything ready, mostly because I jokingly stayed attached to him for the rest of his preparations. At one point, he bent in half, causing my whole body to shift with him until my feet dangled off the floor.

"How is this helping?" I asked breathlessly, the air knocked out of me.

Edward just laughed and straightened out so I could stand on the floor once again, letting me walk with him to strain the noodles in the sink.

While he picked out the bottle of wine, I convinced him to let me put the food into the dishes he'd set out. The sauce and pasta went in two separate platters, and I arranged the garlic bread on this weird silver plate. I walked into the living room just in time to see Edward's long fingers twisting the corkscrew. My lips parted and I almost forgot it was rude to stare when I watched him bring the two sides down, pulling the cork out. He'd ditched the apron in the kitchen, giving me the full effect of his black shirt, first button undone, and dark pants that hugged his amazing thighs. I'd never admired a guy's thighs before. But his were really, really nice.

"If you keep looking at me like that, there's no way we'll get to dinner."

"Huh?" I mumbled, trying to snap out of the daydream where his fingers were twisting something besides the corkscrew. There's something really embarrassing about having a guy catch you fantasizing about him. I looked up to see that Edward's eyes had gotten dark, gleaming in the candlelight.

He poured two glasses and set the bottle on the table, stepping forward to hand one to me before he took a drink. "I said, there's no way I can sit across from you and eat if you keep looking at me that way, sweet."

Stop thinking about that nickname. Stop thinking about why he gave you that nickname. Stop thinking about what he did when he explained that nickname.

Instead, I shuddered under his gaze, bringing the wine to my lips for a long drink. The glass was shaking when I pulled it away from my mouth, and I was breathing embarrassingly hard, despite just standing there.

In an instant, he had taken the last steps to shut out the space between us; I wound my arm around his neck, careful to keep the wine balanced next to his shoulder, and his lips crashed down on mine, sweet and insistent.

"But…your food…" I muttered between kisses.

His arm was like an iron bar against my lower back, yanking our hips together so roughly that a spasm of pleasure hit me with the contact. "How hungry are you?" he asked, nibbling my jaw gently enough that it wouldn't mark, then dragged his lip down to my collarbone.

"Not that hungry," I moaned, reaching one arm behind me to set the wine on some little table with a plant.

Edward got rid of his as well and his hands quickly gripped the hem of my shirt. "This has got to be one of the sexiest things I've ever seen you wear," he murmured, thumb brushing the skin of my abdomen just above my belt. "But I'm afraid keeping you in it would be like refusing to open a present because the wrapping is too nice."

I didn't even have a chance to reply before he pulled the clingy fabric over my head, tossing it across the room. I heard something break, but Edward's lips were back on mine before I could look over my shoulder to see what it was, and then I didn't care anymore.

There was nothing that could compare to the feeling of his hands on my bare skin. Nothing. His fingertips were soft, palms hot and dry against my arms and back. I leaned in closer, this time to feel his skin against mine, rather than to hide like I had the first time he took my shirt off. His fingers moved slowly from my shoulders to my lower back, caressing my skin with this incredible pressure that made me shudder.

He toyed with the clasp of my bra, meeting my gaze for a second before pressing his forehead against mine. "I want more of you," he whispered, lips ghosting over mine.

"Take it," I invited, pressing my lips more firmly to his. There was a time for sweet, sensual, and tender. But right now, I just wanted him to take. Holding back was no longer an option.

Edward's chest vibrated against mine, the sound of his growl resonating in my stomach. His mouth still thoroughly occupied with my own, he twisted the clasp once, freeing the straps from each other. He pulled away, breath hot on my hair as both hands moved to my shoulders, pulled away the scrap of fabric. There was an audible intake of breath, and I couldn't determine which one of us had made the sound, but it didn't fucking matter because his fingers were finally, finally, touching my skin without anything in between.

"Shit." His hands caressed me gently, the touch too light to make me feel anything but desperate for more. When a thumb brushed across my nipple, I lost it, launching myself at him until my lips were meshed with his and my breasts were tight against his chest.

I ran my hands down his back, bringing his shirt up. The fabric tore a little when I got it up to his neck and stuck around his head, making me giggle.

"Buttons," he said, removing one hand from me to tear away the top two so I could finally get the shirt all the way off and chuck it across the room.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. It's from Target."

I laughed and kicked off my heels with a grin, putting my hands on his shoulders. "Catch me," I said, then jumped to wrap my legs around his hips, squeaking when his hands grabbed my ass and drew me hard against him.

My hands were caught up in his hair, bringing his mouth back to mine, and I sighed at the feeling of his bare chest crushed against my own. He relaxed his grip slightly, letting me drop down until I could feel his erection between my legs. We both moaned at the contact, my body shifting instinctively into his.

He stepped forward, surprisingly steady on his feet for someone who was carrying 113 pounds of horny girl. My back flattened against a wall, shaking when he shoved himself harder into me.

That's right, no more gentle.

I grinned into his neck, kissing and licking his skin. He tasted like warmth and smelled like he'd spent the day in the sun, which made no sense, considering it was November; but his scent reminded me of bonfires on the beach and sunscreen and eating watermelon. It was just easy, comfortable, familiar. And whatever I was doing seemed to be helping with the making him lose control thing, because he grunted and rocked more roughly between my legs.

"Oh, fuck," I whimpered when another shot of pleasure jerked through me.

Edward smirked, kissing me earnestly, and used his grip on my hips to thrust me into him again. My head fell to the side, as if my neck no longer had the strength to hold it up, and I heard myself whisper something that made no sense.

"What's that, Bella?" he asked slyly, fingers tingling against my ribs and breasts so that I couldn't think, and swayed into my body again.

More pleasure. More shaking. Can't think, can't think.

My breath sounded like sandpaper in my lungs, I felt like my heart was trying to escape my chest, and I could swear that just rubbing against Edward with both our pants still on was better than having actual sex with any other guy.

Time to gain back the upper hand, here. Was there an upper hand to be gained anymore? Did I even care?

With a deep breath for determination, I loosened my legs from their death-grip on his waist, wriggling until he dropped me on the floor. His brows rose in confusion, eyes wide and concerned. I just smiled teasingly, one hand flat on his chest until he took a step backward. His face was the picture of both frustration and curiosity, and it took everything I had not to burst into laughter or just tell him he was unbearably adorable.

I faltered slightly, my knees feeling like they had been replaced by pudding cups as I backed him up against the entertainment center, then used both hands to push on his shoulders until he sat. Once he was situated, I put a foot on either side of his thighs and lowered myself until I was over his lap, knees on the floor. I hovered above him for a moment, holding his gaze and daring him to make a move or say something that he would regret. He glared back, features tense with the lust I knew he was trying to restrain, waiting for my call.

Without warning, I sat down, bringing our bodies together again. He gasped, reaching to grab my waist. I pulled back and rose up off him, narrowing my eyes.

"Find a different spot for your hands," I told him.

Edward's nostrils flared, but his eyes were on fire with lust instead of anger, and I knew he wasn't going to get mad about the toying thing for once. I had to choose wisely the times that I could taunt him. Apparently when he'd just dry humped me halfway to an orgasm—only to have me turn it around and demand control—was one of the okay times. He opened the drawers to either side of him and wrapped his fingers around them so firmly that I thought his nails might actually sink into the wood.

I grinned, kissing him hard, and writhed against his lap again. He grunted. I sighed, head bowed in concentration as I swiveled on his erection, trying to find the rhythm that would keep us both happy. It was an incredibly liberating feeling, knowing I was in complete control of the situation. I could move how ever I wanted, unless he broke the rules and grabbed back the power.

It had become such an annoying habit, surrendering the control, letting other people have the things I wanted. I gave up my part to Kate Samson in my high school's production of Grease when she threw a hissy-fit over not being cast. I was always the last in line at the cafeteria during summer camp. I returned library books the second I saw someone had put a request in for them, whether I was done reading or not.

I was sort of a pushover.

But with Edward, I was finally ready to take what I craved; and there was no way in hell that someone would get to him first.

How I could get lost in my own head while my body was practically screaming was beyond me, but I was graciously brought back to the moment when I heard a loud crack. I gasped, pulling away from Edward's lips to see that he had actually wrenched one of the drawers so hard that the wood had snapped.

"Don't…stop…" he demanded, doing his best to thrust up into me from the position he was in. Unfortunately, he was using his grip on the other drawer to do so, which effectively pulled the entire entertainment center slightly forward. It righted itself easily, but not before several DVDs slid off the shelves overhead, thankfully missing our heads as they dropped to the floor.

My hands left his shoulders to smack against the wooden frame, keeping it steady. I looked up to see if we were going to get hit with anything else, then met Edward's gaze again, circling my hips over his. "I don't know. We might get killed."

"Worth it," he groaned, a vein in his neck standing out as he tried to resist taking hold of me.

I dropped my head to his shoulder, breathing heavily while my body searched for release, grinding against his. "Don't want to do it alone, anymore," I whispered in his ear, grabbing it with my teeth.

Edward gasped, hands on my hips before I even had a second to think, and shoved me down against him. His fingers clenched into my naked skin, almost painfully, but the electricity running up and down my thighs, in between my legs, through my stomach…it made any amount of pain totally worth it.

I lost control of my neck again, my head falling back until I could feel my hair brushing against my lower back with each one of his frantic thrusts. My fingers curled around one of the shelves of the entertainment center, trying to find something to hold on to. "Just…a little…more…" I moaned, my other hand grasping his shoulder for balance when he leaned forward to kiss my neck.

He shook suddenly, entire body clenched for a moment before he let out a tight breath and a low 'fuck' against my throat. My mind wanted to rejoice in the fact that I had given Edward Cullen an orgasm, something I'd been wanting to do for weeks. But my body kept trying to create the friction needed to get my own release, now needing it even more desperately than before.

"Please, just—" My words were cut off by my own gasp when his fingers pushed into the seam of my jeans, knuckle working over it until he found the spot that made my entire body jump. "Yes!" I said, probably too loudly, but it was so fucking good and I seriously felt like it had been years rather than months since I'd been touched like this.

He pressed his fingers there again, harder this time, and brought the other hand up to squeeze my breast, kissing me until I had to pull away, panting like I'd just finished climbing a mountain.

Suddenly, I was on my back on the carpet with Edward leaning over me, supporting his weight on one forearm while his fingers continued to work over the top of my jeans. Somehow, we had silently agreed that the pants would stay on for this whole thing, which was fine, but it might have made it easier if he…

Oh.

His lips closed around the tip of my right breast, tongue tracing the nipple, and my back arched off the floor, hands gripping the back of his neck to make sure he didn't move. I wanted him to never move. There was a puff of air against my skin, and I realized he was chuckling at my reaction, but I didn't give a shit as long as he kept moving his fingers while his tongue did that.

It had been too fucking long since I'd had an orgasm, and at this point, I couldn't even remember if James had given me one, and I wasn't prone to getting myself off, which meant it had just been too fucking long, and he couldn't make me wait anymore, because I really would explode or shrivel up and die or just have a seizure from all this pressure.

My thoughts were racing even faster than my heart, and I was almost ready to surrender myself to the fact that I was no longer capable of climaxing when it finally happened. His finger let up on the pressure for a moment, making me sigh in defeat. But as soon as I had given up, the knuckle was back, strong and intentional, and I lost it.

A wordless cry echoed in the room, my eyes squeezed shut as little lights appeared, and my entire body felt like it was trying to soar.

I grinned drunkenly when Edward flopped down on the floor next to me, and I scooted over until my head rested on his chest. "Finally," I murmured, kissing where I could feel his heart still thudding loudly.

He chuckled, one hand trailing up and down my spine, fingers running through my hair. "Yes, well, you're not as easy to get off as I would have hoped."

I lifted my head to glare at him, smacking his stomach with a thwap that echoed in the room. "I meant finally this," I clarified, gesturing between us.

He smiled, using both hands to pull me up until I lay on top of him. I shivered again, unable to remember if the simple feeling of two bare chests pressed together had ever turned me on so much before. Everything seemed new with Edward.

His hand cupped the back of my neck, guiding me until our lips met again. He kissed me tenderly, tongue sliding with mine in a way that made me melt even further into his hold. When his fingers slipped away from my hair, he pulled back, eyes serious.

"I wish that I could put into words…how I feel about you," he started, voice low. "But right now, I just can't think of the right thing to say."

I smiled at him, running my lips along his jaw as I searched for my own words. Does he love me? What would that mean, if he did? I knew I loved him, and probably had before I even really talked to him. As much as you can love someone you don't even know, anyway. But this was different. We had moved past just kissing and occasional racy touches, but we hadn't had sex. Was there something specific we were waiting for? If so, how the hell would I know when it happened if I couldn't even figure out what it was?

All I knew was that it had never been like this with anyone. Not with jerks in high school or older jerks in college. Not with random guys from a bar or random customers at the coffee house. Not with anyone. What Edward did and what I did was so much more important than what we said. Words were worth shit when there was no action attached. Actions could still be effective, even they weren't accompanied by fantastic speeches or pretty phrases.

I wanted actions. My eyes met his, and I smiled again. "I don't need words. I just need you."

эээ. я не "А"шка, я "С"ешка. не путать ))) не грустить

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