A/N: Don't own TWILIGHT. Or its characters.

A WHITE ROSE line by John Boyle O'Rielly.

I swear by all that's holy, if one person tells me this chapter is too short, I'm bringing out the whipping bench. This chapter is as long as it needs to be.

I walked into the library, the box of chocolate bars behind my back. Edward sat at the small desk, thumbing through papers.

This would end either very well or very badly.

"Edward Cullen."

His head shot up at my use of his full name. I realized that while I'd thought of him as Edward in my head, I'd never used his first name. To him, at least.

His eyes narrowed. "I assume you will apologize for that slip, Isabella?"

"I'll do no such thing," I said with as much courage as I could muster. I pulled the box of chocolates out, hoping he'd see what I was doing. "What are these?"

He, very intently, sat the papers down and glared at me. Oh, dear. He was angry. Very angry. He wasn't seeing anything. Or else he saw everything and wasn't amused.

Wasn't amused. At. All.

"They are chocolate bars, Isabella. Snickers to be exact. Says so right on the box." He stood up.

Very badly. Odds were this was going to end very badly. "I know what they are, Edward. What I want to know is - what are they doing in the kitchen?"

He crossed his arms. "What business of yours is it?" he asked in that you're in for it now voice.

Ouch, my backside hurt just thinking about the spanking I'd be getting. And it wasn't even the weekend. Oh well, I had one more chance. "It's my business," I said, shaking the box at him, "because these are not on your meal plan."

He blinked.

Understanding dawned in his eyes.

I stepped closer. "Do you think I put together a meal plan for you because I'm bored and have nothing better to do? Answer me."

His arms uncrossed. "No, Mistress Swan."

Mistress Swan. He understood. He was playing along.

I gave a dramatic sigh. "I had plans for today. I wanted to show you my snowmobile. But instead we'll have to spend the afternoon inside working on your punishment."

His eyes darkened. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mistress Swan," he said in that low, seductive voice.

"You'll be sorrier still when I'm finished with you," I said. He stood still and waited for me. "I'm going up to my room. You have ten minutes to join me there."

I spun and walked out of the room. I ran up the stairs and hurried to my room. I striped my dress off and put on the blue robe Edward had once complimented. Then I stood by the foot of my bed and waited.

He entered slowly. Quietly.

I crossed my arms and tapped my foot. "What do you have to say for yourself, Edward?"

He hung his head. "Nothing, Mistress."

"Look at me," I commanded him. When he met my eyes, I continued, "I am not a mistress. I am a goddess." I pushed the robe from my shoulders. "I will be worshipped."

He stood for the span of five seconds, deep in thought. Then something finally snapped and the wall crumbled to dust. He rushed forward, lifted me in his arms, and sat me in his lap on the tiny bed.

His eyes searched mine, a million unasked questions flicked across his face. He gently cupped my cheek. "Bella," he whispered. "Oh, Bella."

My heart twisted. Bella. He called me Bella.

He glanced down at my mouth, traced my lips with his thumb. "'A kiss of desire…"

"…on the lips," I finished in a whisper.

His fingers shook. Ever so slowly, he leaned forward and my eyes fluttered closed as he narrowed the space between us. His chest heaved in a shuttering breath. Then his lips pressed tenderly against mine.

Just a touch, but I felt the electricity spark between us. His lips came again, longer this time, but just as soft. Just as gentle.

Nothing more than a whisper.

I knew then that while Edward knew many things and was right about most of them, he was completely wrong in this respect. Kissing on the lips wasn't unnecessary, it was the most necessary thing there was. I could live without air sooner than I could give up the feel of his man's lips on mine.

He sighed against my lips - a warrior's defeat at the end of a long fought battle. Then he framed my face with both hands and kissed me again. Even longer this time. His tongue lightly traced my lips and when I opened my mouth, he entered slowly, as if memorizing the feel, the very taste of me. I could have wept with the sweetness of it all.

I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling him to me, not ever wanting to let go. He groaned and our tongues swept over each other's as the kiss deepened.

I unbuttoned his shirt while we kissed, not wanting to leave his lips for any reason. On second thought, forget not wanting, I'm not sure I'd been able to pull way if the room caught fire. But my hands had to be touching him and I quickly went back to running my fingers over his chest. All the while our lips moved together in perfect unity.

He finally broke away and stood up to step out of his pants, looking deep in my eyes the entire time.

"Love me, Edward," I said, holding my arms open to him.

"I always have, Bella," he said as he gently gathered me to him. "I always have."

Then he lowered me to the bed and his lips were on mine again for another long, slow, open-mouthed kiss. And kissing Edward was so much better than fantasizing about it. His lips were smooth and strong, and his tongue stroked mine with a passion and yearning that curled my toes.

And we weren't Dom and sub, we weren't master and servant, we weren't even man and woman. We were the lover and his beloved, and when he finally entered me, it was sweet and slow and tender.

And I'm not sure, but I think, somehow, in the seconds before he released into me, I felt a tear fall from his eyes.