I can feel his heart throbbing against my chest as he clings to me. His breath is coming in short puffs through his nose, hot against the skin in the crook of my neck. "I know," I tell him, though I'm not quite sure what it is I know. I feel like some kind of wordless understanding is passing between us... about being 'each other's person'. But what does it really mean?
I envy Edward for the certainty with which he claims to simply 'know' that he loves me. I really don't feel like my flop of a marriage has enabled me to tell love from delusion now. Or maybe love is always just delusional. And while I'm at it, hell yes... I think I'm falling in love with Edward, and I can hardly keep myself from telling him so.
But I shouldn't tell him. How can this possibly be love? We've just met again hours ago. Hours! And he is only eighteen, and he is special, and Esme... oh God, Esme. I really shouldn't. Though it's hard not to feel like falling in love with Edward, what with him baring his soul – and his body – to me like that. I want to give myself over to that feeling. He's just so beautiful.
Maybe I'm just romanticizing everything; I can't tell. But isn't this what people are doing all the time anyway, when it's just hormones going wild? Being meant for each other and such... Christ, I lost my virginity this morning; who wants to blame me for getting emo? I never was even half as attracted to Jake and yet I had confused what we had with love. Stupid, sentimental, romantic me. And what did it bring me? Yeah, right...! And what did I learn from it? Not much apparently.
He is still clinging to me, unmoving. And I hold him tight and I realize that I don't know shit about love (yeah, thank you very much, Jake), but still...
I bite my lip. Then I bite my tongue. I love you, Edward.
No. I really shouldn't.
I wince a little at the sudden sound of him speaking. "Yes?"
"Can I be inside of you one more time? Just a little?"
What? Again? Is he serious? "Edward, I don't think we –"
"Please," he whispers against my temple. "I just want it so badly."
How is it even possible that his words go straight down to my girl parts? Again! I can't decide whether to laugh or to cry. I can feel his erection nudge my belly, and there's no way to 'ignore it' this time.
"I'll be gentle," he says, his voice soft and pleading. "I promise." I am literally melting in his arms. And he knows it; he knows I want him before I know it myself. I don't need to say anything; my body is betraying me. Also, I just might have nodded my head 'yes'... Christ, what is wrong with me?
We slowly untangle and he reaches across my body and opens the nightstand drawer. We don't speak. I use my teeth with the wrapping like he had done this morning. He is caressing my neck and my cheeks, stroking back wayward locks of my hair, as I sheath him with the condom. His eyes never leave mine. There is no awkward fiddling this time, no rash excitement. Despite the powerful desire for each other, this is a moment of tranquility.
Everything is slow and calm... the breathing, the movements, the way he brings his body on top of mine and nudges my legs apart. Everything is silent, except for the hypnotizing sounds of our lovemaking... air being sucked in and leaving the lunges in a mesmerizing rhythm, the small whoosh of skin sliding along skin, the little smacks of lips and tongues, and the moan Edward exhales when he touches me there and finds me wet and swollen and ready for him.
He enters me ever so slowly. I am a bit sore, but I don't care because the sensation of him filling me, the heat building and spreading inside of me immediately drowns out any discomfort. He hasn't even started to thrust yet, but goes deeper and deeper, pushing forward minutely until our hips are pressed flush against each other. His eyes burn into mine and they speak to me, asking questions and giving answers at the same time. They are not clouded with lust this time, and lust is not what this is about. It's about being close, impossibly close to each other.
We're taking our time; we both want this to last. He is hovering over me, perfectly still, until I lift my own hips ever so slightly and he pulls back for the first time, almost all the way out. I gasp at the sensation of him moving inside of me, craving him back immediately. When he pushes back, he lets go a prolonged sigh and closes his eyes. His head sinks against my shoulder, and he stills again. Slowly, his upper body comes flush against my chest. His right hand is cradling my cheek. I lean my face into it and give myself over to the feeling. I've never felt that safe and cared for in my life, never felt that much...
"...home," he whispers.
Oh God! I love you, Edward.
His left arm underneath me tightens its hold across my shoulder blades, his hand on the nape of my neck pulls me even closer to him. Carefully, to keep us joined, he pulls his knees up and spreads his legs until I can feel his thighs on either side of my hips. I cross my ankles behind his bottom. We couldn't get any closer if we tried.
There's no pulling and pushing any more; when he starts moving again, our bodies stay that way as though they're glued to each other. Very slowly, very sweetly, he gyrates his hips. I welcome him deep, so deep inside of me, embracing him with everything I have... arms, legs, heart and soul. For a moment I feel like I could fight for this, for him. Like I should fight for us. Like I should tell Esme and everyone else to go to hell. Like it must be the easiest thing in the world to make this work.
Edward and I. Little Green and Easybella. Aren't we meant to be?
I don't know how long we keep going like that with our bodies rocking like one; time has lost its meaning. But neither of us is searching release. After a while, I feel him going soft again and we just slow down until we stop moving at all. He lifts his head and we look at each other, contented and filled with wonder. A silent, mutual 'Are you ok?' - 'Yes, I am.' passes between us.
"More than that," I say. And he smiles and nods. His weight becomes a little uncomfortable; he notices before I can say anything and lifts himself up on his elbows, slipping out of me in the process. We both giggle a little at the feeling.
He bends down to kiss me. We don't close our eyes; I don't know why. But it is lovely, kissing with our eyes open. I never did this before. It feels even more intimate this way.
"Can I stay?" he suddenly asks.
I turn my head to the window. The sun is low; it must be late afternoon by now. "You mean, over night?"
"No." He takes my hand and holds it against his heart. "I mean, can I stay?"
Yes! I love you, Edward.
My heart breaks into a mild gallop. "Well, you've just got home, right?" I try to make light of it.
His brows knit together. "I don't understand what that means."
Of course not. I'm so stupid. I know what he's asking, and yet I'm making jokes. Why can't I just say it? What is there to lose?
Shall Esme kick me out of here, dammit! I am his person, and if she can't see that...
"Please stay with me, Edward." I love you!
His eyes squeeze shut. "Yes," he moans, "a thousand times yes!" Then he hugs me tightly, laughing into my neck.
"A thousand times?" I giggle, surprised.
"A thousand times and more," he confirms. "Yes!"
And I could swear he does a little fist-pump behind my back.