A short one. Which I have my reasons for. Like Edward, I suppose...

Chapter Nineteen: A Moment of Weakness


I knew better than to let myself get too excited about Edward's worry. Because I knew that by the time I got home it may have turned to something else.

Because, like I told him when he was still listening, I was still almost an hour away. And an hour is a long time.

Enough time to change things. Our entire lives changed in far less time than that...

Maybe if my phone hadn't have died...

If I could have kept listening...

Hearing him...

And letting him hear me...

Something I know he truly wanted to do...

Maybe ...

But it did. Died, and disconnected us from each other.

So, though hopeful, I didn't let that hope grow too much. Too big or too strong. Strong enough to break me...

In case, after an hour, all he wanted to do again was try to.



I don't want this.

This silence. This emptiness. This Bella-less space.

This Hell.

I don't want it.

But I don't want her to live the rest of her life in a different. Because I'm in it, but not.

She wants me. Loves me. And wants to be the center of...

But I'm not me anymore.

I'm just a broken shell of.

I want to run to the door when I hear her coming close to it. I want to shorten her steps by replacing them with my own and taking them for her. I want to sweep her off of her feet and let mine carry her...

I want to let her love where they take her.

I want so much...

But I can't.

Because, as absolutely as she would let me and them, they just won't.


The last hour has felt like years. After the ones before it that felt like centuries of them.

And I think I'm back in place. Putting her first. What's best for her...

Until she opens the door.

And the sight of her makes me forget to.

Because I do want.


And at this moment of seeing, can't remember anything else.

But that I do. And that I want her to know it. In every way that she can. And every way that I can make her.

"This was the worst day of my life, Bella."

"I'm sorry if that's my fault," she says, taking my confession but not.

"It isn't."

She looks at me, hopeful but afraid to be. Which should clear my head...

But doesn't. Because my head is nowhere to be found.

My heart is what's here. And it's her. "But you could make it better."

"Just tell me how and I will," she declares, telling me that she's not afraid of me. Or what I'll tell her. "Tell me anything and I'll do it."

"Let me feel you," is what I do. Because it's what I want and want her to do.

And she misunderstands. Drops her things at the door and rushes to me. And to her knees in front of me and between mine. Thinking the last thing I told her I wanted from her is what I selfishly want again now.

For her to try to make me.

And again...

If my head was here...

It would tell me to stop this.

But it's still not.

And not what makes me still her willing hands as they reach for my button. Or, after I drop them, cup my own around her face. Stare at her willing mouth. Or pull it to my needy one.

It feels like forever since I've kissed my wife.

Tasted her.

And the way she tastes me tells me it feels the same to her. And something she never wants to feel again. Forever without this...

Without me giving her what she wants to feel. Which is just me. Any way that I can.

Which is all I want to do.

Give her and make her and get lost in only.

So I make her get up. So that I can. Because getting down for me is too hard.

And then I make her walk away from me again. "Go to the bedroom." But this time only so I can follow her. And have. "The one I can get to."

And once inside this room I've told her so many times to leave me alone in, I tell her to not. And watch her as she watches me drag myself out of my chair and onto our bed. "Now let me get to you. And show you how sorry I am that I couldn't before."

She follows my orders wordlessly and climbs onto the bed beside me. The place she wanted me to want her to be.

And I let her stay there...

But only long enough to show her what I want her to do next. Let me see all of her that I've been neglecting. And pushing away.

Neither of which I'm going to do now.

With my focus lost.

And only her coming more into before me.

Bared. Perfectly. For.

Because she let–and helped–me undress her.

Before she lets me move her. Tell her where to go with my hands that pull her on top of me. And down to, as I lay back.

"I missed you," I tell her, and pull her mouth to mine again. So that it can tell her how much it did. Even though it made itself.

And as she listens, graciously accepts my mouth that's been anything but gracious to her, my arms tell her how much they did. Crush her so hard to me that she couldn't not know. How her absence from them hurt. Another confession she accepts even though I inflicted that pain on myself. Before she forced it on me today without trying to.

Because I know now that she didn't.

Stubborn or not, she wouldn't. Wouldn't intentionally hurt me. Make me suffer no matter how much I made her.

Because Bella–my Bella–is above that. And would never love me in a way that I had to feel pain to feel it.

Because she's better than me. Better in every way.

I know it. And, though she would say I shouldn't because it isn't true–to her only–I want her to know I do.

That I know it deep.

And crave it all. Her...

Something my hands and arms tell her before my mouth does. Because they have to bring her to it so that it can.

Something they don't do gently. Or patiently. Because my craving is too strong to let them.

And too strong to wait. To take its time or give her the time she deserves. Or the attention. Before it just takes her.

Crushes her to my impatient mouth beneath her. Her selfless and giving her. That lets me take. Taste the mind numbing sweetness of. That only I know. And that she never wants anyone else to.

I could never not know that. Ever...

But certainly don't now as she gives it to me. Grips my arms that I think must be leaving their crushing imprint on her thighs. And leaves hers on me. On my tongue and my lips as she fucks them like she never has before.

Because they told her she couldn't ever again because she couldn't feel something else. Because I couldn't let her feel it. And then decided that she wouldn't feel less.

And that hurt her. Because before that they promised her they'd never. And would anything... everything... for her...

For as long as we lived. Exactly how long we promised each other we'd be together. No matter what. Before I took it back.

And just now. When I took back that taking.

And when she took it from me by taking over, telling me she knew I lied.


And when I told her I didn't want her.

This part of her.

That she's only ever given to me.

Only ever let me take.

That explodes with the truth I wanted her to have. And feel. When my head left me. Because thinking she had–and knowing she could have been taken–brought my heart to the surface.

And my mouth to her quivering.

And thinking it's won... with the taste of its and her victory still on my tongue...

And the delirious look of it in her eyes as she lowers herself from her victorious perch so that they can look into mine...

I know again that I can't let her see what she wants to.

Because my head is back.

And it's telling me this is wrong. And was.

Because she deserves more.




"Go upstairs, Bella."

"You expect me to believe you want that now? I know what you want, Edward. You want what you just had. You want to know that you can have it whenever you want it. For the rest of our lives. Know, like you do, that no one else ever has, and that no one else ever will. Because it–and every other part of me–is yours."

"That's not what that was, Bella. Or what it meant."

"Not only, no, but yes. It was."


"YES. Like when you said that you didn't want me. You know... when you so ridiculously lied to me...

"That I already knew, but that you and your arms and your mouth just screamed your confession of."

"That wasn't a confession. It was a... "

"A what?" I ask him as I watch him struggle to complete his newest lie.

"A goodbye," he says, and then adds to it because he knows I don't believe him. "And proof only of the fact that I was jealous for a few minutes. Which was apparently still the case when you came home, and the only reason I did what I did. Which I apologize for. Because it was cruel."

"Cruel?" I mimic, and shake my head, exasperated with his ridiculousness. "You might want to try something else, baby, because not even you can spin what you just did to me into any semblance of cruel."

"I'm not spinning anything, Bella. Cruel is exactly what it was. Because doing it, though not my intention, teased you. And, I know, made you think that I would do it again. Because, like you yourself pointed out, it made you think I wanted to, instead of why I really did."

"Which was?" I ask now, entertaining him for the moment, I suppose, because I'm curious about his spin.

"Like I said, I got jealous. Instead of just worried. Hearing another man's voice... hearing it so close to you... when I was so far away... it made me crazy for a second. Longer, obviously. And territorial. And, though I know I have no right to be beyond the basic fact that you're still technically my wife... I wanted you to remember that you once were in every way.

"It was a knee jerk–and cocky jerk, I admit–reaction. I needed to put one last stamp on you. One last mark of MINE. And I did. The only way I could."

"I know your cocky, Edward. What it looks like and what it feels like. And that wasn't it. Wasn't it at all."


"You wanted me, Edward. So much in that moment that you forgot to tell yourself to tell me that you didn't. That is what it was. What it looked like and what it felt like. And you can't take that away from me now just because you think you should. Just because, after you took what you wanted, your head told you not to take any more. Or to let me give you."

I stop... resisting the urge to throw any more of his words back in his face. The ones he said. And the ones I heard. The ones he knows I did, and the ones he doesn't.

Because, for now, it's enough that I did. And that he said them. Was strong enough to, and weak enough to let himself be.

It's enough.

Even if he hadn't have done what he did...

What spoke innumerable words to me...

It would still be enough.

To tell him that he can't win.

Because I believed him.

When he didn't lie.



What the fuck have I done?

All of the work...

The lies...

The pain...

That I inflicted on her and myself...

I just shattered it all. Because I needed to shatter her.

To know that I could. Still...

I didn't lie when I told her I was jealous. Crazy with being. I was...

And did need to put my MINE stamp on her.

But Jesus...

I made a mess.

All because I wanted her to make hers on me. Her beautiful, sweet mess...


That, as once again, she refuses to take an order from me and stays in this bed beside me, I can't bring myself to wash off.

Because I want it. Never want to be without it.

And need it...

To remind me why I have to.


Hold on, girls. Please. Do it for Bella.

And something for me, if you're feeling generous. Take a peek at my newest moment of weakness, too quiet. That's the name of it. too quiet. And, I know what I said... but it just wouldn't be. Quiet at all. And was screaming at me...

And one more thing... after almost two years... Come Closer's/Right There's Isabella has something to scream about. Was given it–along with a new name (squeeeeeeeeeeeee)–in chapter 3. That I just posted on the 3rd. *sigh*

That's it. See you soon. xo