A/N: Alright, before my betas shit a brick wondering what the hell is going on, I want to say that today is my birthday - woohoo - so I thought I'd give back to them (and all my very supportive readers) with another outtake of Clementines: The Carlisle Files. So don't panic, uhyesplease and StormDragonfly - I wanted to surprise you both by posting something that you hadn't already read! Enjoy!
Of course, I don't own Twilight. However, Peter Facinelli owns me, and apparently it's too much to ask for him to return my phone calls.
Without further adieu, here's Carlisle's POV of their *sigh* first kiss.
"None ever was in love with me but grief.
She wooed me from the day that I was born;
She stole my playthings first, the jealous thief,
And left me there forlorn.
The birds that in my garden would have sung,
She scared away with her unending moan;
She slew my lovers too when I was young,
And left me there alone.
Grief, I have cursed thee often - now at last
To hate thy name I am no longer free;
Caught in thy bony arms and prisoned fast,
I love no love but thee."
When she finished reciting the poem, my blood began to stir.
She had given up on love. Completely.
I could tell as much from her eyes and from the words she claimed to be her favorite. I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and tell her that someday, someone would love her as she deserved to be loved.
How I wished that someone could be me.
"That's an interesting choice for a favorite poem," I said slowly.
"I guess it just strikes a chord with me." Her eyes were downcast as she shrugged at me. "I feel that way a lot of the time."
She was killing me. How could she feel so alone? Didn't she know just how special she was? In the few days I had known her, I could already tell that any man would be lucky to have her. Why couldn't she see that?
"I sincerely hope that changes for you very soon, Bella," I said, choosing my words carefully.
Her beautiful eyes met mine, and I would have given anything to know what she was thinking at that moment. I was just about to ask, when the stupid clock began to chime.
"Holy crap! It's midnight!" she exclaimed, glancing at her watch. "I should probably get going."
"Ugh. And I've got to teach theory at 8:30," I sighed in resignation. As much as it pained me, if she wanted to leave, I would let her.
I got up and stood in front of her, offering my hands to help her to her feet. Again, I reveled in the soft smoothness of her delicate hands - so cool to the touch. My hands probably felt like fire to her; it would only be a matter of minutes before she would drop them like a hot potato.
But she wasn't letting go.
I froze. Was this really happening? Her eyes bore into mine as we gravitated toward each other like magnets, our hands grasped firmly between us.
Oh God, how I wished...
Suddenly, her head was pressed against my chest. Her hands left mine - one wrapped itself behind my back, the other placed gently over my heart. Was it still beating? I gasped as the perfume of her hair hit the nerve center of my brain like a cannonball.
Strawberries - my favorite.
"Thank you, Carlisle," she whispered.
"For what?" Without even thinking, my fingers began to comb through her long, soft hair, causing the scent to intensify tenfold.
"For being so nice and understanding. It's more than I deserve."
Oh, my self-deprecating Bella. How wrong you are.
"Not true," I replied. "You deserve to be happy. I just hope you give yourself permission someday soon."
"I don't know if we have that kind of time," she murmured into my chest.
Did she just say, 'we'?
I felt her hand start traveling up and down my side.
I couldn't take it anymore. If I'd had an ounce of resistance left in me, it was gone now. I knew what I was doing was wrong. I knew I was taking advantage of her and her vulnerability. I'd been fighting the feelings that had been brewing for her for nearly 3 days now, and I'd depleted all of my defenses. I couldn't help it, she had to know that there was someone in this world who thought she hung the moon.
It was crazy and stupid of me, but so help me God, I would tell her how I felt, using the language I knew spoke: poetry.
"Would you like to hear another poem?" I asked, trying hard to keep my voice from shaking.
"I'd love to."
"It's called 'Night Without End.'"
I took a deep breath. I was standing at the edge of the cliff, and when I jumped, there would be no going back.
"Night without end
Dull melancholy of the hours of waiting!
My fingers threaded into her hair, pulling her impossibly closer to me.
"Fever of blood beating out the sweet syllables of her name."
"Bella." Her name fell softly from my lips into her ear, as gentle as the first snowflake of winter.
"Let her come, whom I desire too much.
Let her come, whom I love too much,
and envelop me with her young flower's scent."
I took another deep breath, flooding my senses with her intoxicating perfume. She shivered against my cheek.
I know. I feel it, too.
I pulled back and searched her eyes. I saw nothing but permission.
"Let my lips bite the fruit of her mouth
so that I hold her very soul between my lips."
She knew what was coming; her eyes closed in anticipation. I wouldn't deny her. To do so, would be to selfishly deny myself as well.
My lips pressed lightly against hers. As much as I wanted to sweep her off her feet and carry her to my bedroom, I held back - afraid that Bella was hypnotized by the poem, not me. But her hand slid up and around my neck, beckoning me closer as all my hesitation broke away.
Her lips were as soft as satin against mine. Her mouth, warm and welcoming, seemed to be inviting me in, and I slipped my tongue slowly over hers. She tasted even better than she smelled - like strawberries and sugar cane. How was that even possible?
Kissing Bella was like the first time I listened to Debussy. I had instantly fallen in love - knowing that it would never be enough, that I would never get tired of it, and it would always make me happy.
I pulled her flush against me, wanting to feel every inch of her body. I cupped her face in my hands, gently tilting it from side to side, while our tongues composed their own symphony together. Her hands roamed wherever they pleased, but seemed content to stay in the Northern Hemisphere.
I wish I could have said the same about my own self-control. Betrayed my own body, I felt the physical manifestation of how wrong this was press firmly into her abdomen.
But if she minded, she certainly didn't say so.
A/N: A HUGE hug and million thank you's to mommybrook for betaing this at the 11th hour for me so that I could keep it a surprise. She is officially a ROCK STAR in my book, and if you're a fan of Bella/Jasper fics, please check out her fic Somebody to Love www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/5394321/1/Somebody_to_Love