Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. It is not intended to infringe on any copyrights. Any original story directions and plot lines herein are the property of the author. This work is written solely for the enjoyment of exploring that world in new ways.
Author's blog: gkkstitch-gkkmouse(dot)blogspot(dot)com
#3 is a "Missing Moment" that should have been in "Eclipse"... or somewhere in the series!
Excerpt from "Eclipse"
"Do you mind if I do something?" he murmured, his arms tightening around me.
"Anything you want."
But he let me go and slid away.
"Anything but that," I complained.
He ignored me, taking my hand and pulling me off the bed, too. He stood in front of me, hands on my shoulders, face serious.
"Now, I want to do this right. Please, please, keep in mind that you've already agreed to this, and don't ruin it for me."
"Oh, no," I gasped as he slid down onto one knee.
"Be nice," he muttered.
I took a deep breath.
"Isabella Swan?" He looked up at me through his impossibly long lashes, his golden eyes soft but somehow, still scorching. "I promise to love you forever — every single day of forever. Will you marry me?"
There were many things I wanted to say, some of them not nice at all, and others more disgustingly gooey and romantic than he probably dreamed I was capable of. Rather than embarrass myself with either, I whispered, "Yes."
"Thank you," he said simply. He took my left hand and kissed each of my fingertips before he kissed the ring that was now mine.
He crawled back onto his big ridiculous bed with me and rested his head on the pillow beside mine; his smiling eyes were soft and happy. I hated fighting with him. No matter that he'd finally put his ring on my finger, no matter that we had at least discussed the issue of being intimate, and no matter that we'd found some form of resolution, I still felt like he was stuck in 1918. Maybe I should have respected his ideals from his human upbringing, but he wasn't human anymore and you couldn't have one thing without the other. I still felt like we were courting disaster if we didn't at least try something more, to help him adjust to being closer to me.
I laced my fingers in his, palm to palm. He smiled at me and gave my fingers a gentle squeeze. It gave me an idea.
"Make a fist," I whispered to him.
"What?" Confusion clouded his face and voice.
"I want to try something and think it will be easier if you can't squeeze my fingers," I said, taking his hand in mine and making his fingers curl into themselves. I held his knuckles in one hand and his wrist in my other, and pressed the back of his hand firmly to my sternum. "Close your eyes."
Uncertain about my intentions, his gaze searched mine for a moment.
"Trust me." I breathed the words. "Just feel me."
Edward swallowed hard and took a deep unnecessary breath to calm himself before doing what I asked. He was still then in that disconcerting way that emphasized how different he was. After a moment and despite his trepidation, a smile tugged lightly at the corners of his lips. I could feel myself smile in return.
"What?" I asked softly.
"Your heartbeat," he said and the adoration in his voice made my smile falter.
"Tell me," I encouraged him.
"I can feel it through the back of my hand," he said.
"What else?" I asked, clutching his hand closer to me.
"It's warm," he said, almost too quiet for me to hear.
I leaned down and kissed his fingers. "Your fingers are getting warm from mine," I said against his knuckles, rubbing his hand back and forth against me.
"So soft," he said, his voice taking on a dream-like quality.
I didn't know what he was referring to. Was it my lips against the skin of his hand? He could have been talking about the material of my tank top. It suddenly occurred to me that he might mean something else when I realized I'd slowed down the motion of moving his hand against me and I became very aware of the way his hand was cradled by my breasts.
Rubbing my thumb over the side of his index finger, I move the back of his hand deliberately and pressed him into me. His arm tensed in my grasp.
"Bella," he said firmly, and I could hear the argument coming.
"Shh." I don't know why I thought that shushing him was meant to calm him. His hand was shaking in mine. "Edward?" Very slowly, I could feel him pulling his hand away. "Please." My voice cracked over the plea and I hated how desperate it sounded, but he stopped moving, neither letting me pull his hand closer or moving away.
I sighed and felt myself sinking into the bed. I wouldn't let myself succumb to the resignation that always circled us. I kept my hand wrapped around his fist where it hovered just a breath away from me, but let go of his wrist. I reached up and combed my fingers through his hair.
He opened his eyes and looked at me, and just like that, there was nothing but our souls and our intentions.
There were many points of contact between his body and mine, but they all seemed to fade away. I couldn't feel my hand curled around his fingers. My thigh wasn't caught between his knees. My calf wasn't lying along his. His toes weren't pressing into the arch of my foot. There was just his head and mine, resting on the big gold pillow.
I turned the hand I had in his hair and ran the cool metal of my engagement ring along the side of his brow.
"First base," I said slowly, "is kissing." I lightly slid the pad of my thumb over his lips. "Do you remember the first time you took me to the meadow?"
"Yes," he said, moving his lips against my thumb.
"You pressed my hand against your nose and mouth and-"
"Breathed you," he added and a remnant of his smile cautiously returned.
"You said it was easier all the time."
"And then I ran you back through the woods for the first time."
"And I couldn't let go of you to climb down."
Edward chuckled at the memory.
"We got to first base that day," I reminded him, tracing his brow with my fingertips. "And... you made that same face when I kissed you back."
His smile faded a little.
"Second base is over the clothes," I said hesitantly, rubbing my thumb over his hand again. "Edward, we're engaged. I know you're worried about your control, I just think..."
"You just think it will get easier for me over time," he added once again, looking at his hand in mine.
"I know you worry," I said quickly, but quietly, "and I understand that, Edward, I do, but sometimes I think you're too quick to just... freeze up."
He didn't disagree with me. He just listened and that was all I wanted from him for now.
"I won't force you to do something you don't want to, but I think we can do a little more to start making things easier for you. You're afraid you'll hurt me, so let me guide you. Just... trust me." I tugged lightly on his hand and felt the tension in his arm loosen. I swallowed the glimmer of hope I felt. "Let me be your muscles. Let me show you." I pulled his hand back against my chest and felt his arm go completely slack. He was actually going to let me do this.
I pressed the back of his hand against the top of my chest and pulled it down. He licked his lips and stared at his hand. I kept my fingers curled over his and moved his hand around my breast, letting him feel the weight of my body against his. He watched the way my breast moved and molded around his hand when I pressed him closer. I slid his hand down and brought it against my breast from underneath, using the back of his hand to lift it creating a modest amount of cleavage. His eyes became wide and dark as if his vision were feasting on me. When I slid his hand over my sensitive nipple, I felt his breath against my face and the knuckle of his index finger protruded a fraction to press into me through my tank top.
I gasped. That was all him. He looked at me and saw the question in my eyes. Without answering and without looking away, he moved his fingers apart slightly—careful to not shake off my grasp—and gently allowed the peak of my nipple to slide between the crevice he created between them.
I felt my own eyes droop closed at the sensation. I couldn't open them even when I felt him shift forward. His lips pressed softly to mine as he turned the hand I held and pressed his fingertips against me, sliding them around my breast until he was gently cupping it. His fingers stroked and grazed over me slowly. He dragged his kiss along my jaw to my neck as his thumb began to pass back and forth over the tight skin of my nipple. I struggled not to arch into it. Edward's tongue flicked against my collarbone and down along the strap of my tank top, kissing my chest just above the swell he was exploring.
He lowered his head and nuzzled against the cloth-covered skin that his fingers continued to squeeze, circling the tight peak with his nose and then pressing his cheek into the soft pliable curves.
He rested his head there with his ear over my heart, and brought my hand to his lips. As he kissed my fingers with his head pillowed against my chest, I pressed my nose into his hair as he so often did to me and let my fingers brush through his soft locks.
He was still except for the occasional deep breath that told me it was more about smelling me than sighing. He snuggled his head in slow circles against my breasts and was less self-conscious about the placement of his hand on me, whether it was resting directly on me or stroking the side. He was careful to never venture under the material of my top, though, and I did not push him to do more.
"Better?" I asked in the quiet of the room.
He pressed his face against me and I felt his lips move as he kissed me through my shirt. Repeating the words he said the first time he took me to the meadow, he said, "Easier all the time."