i don't own Twilight; SM does.

this is for the super sweet Michelle, aka PAWsPeaches, one of the Lemonade Stand sweethearts. she just had a birthday, and i figured i might as well indulge her wristwatch fantasies...

not beta'd

She wonders is he really thinks he's alone.

Every morning he stands in his glass castle, watching himself in his mirror while Bella watches him from her window. His mouth moves as his fingers fly over his buttons, like he's singing to himself. Or talking. He's the type of guy who would do morning affirmations, totally.

And by the look of the opulence surrounding him, it's working for him.

On goes his tie; silver maybe, or light blue. Bella's never seen him don the same one twice.

He disappears for a second, probably to put on shoes or socks, before straightening up.

His pants...shirt...jacket...fit way too well to be anything but tailor made. He works out. Either that, or he's even more genetically blessed than she realizes.

Bella takes a bite of her apple, almost forgetting to chew as she watches the god across the sky run a hand through his hair. He is methodical. Precise. She knows what's coming next.

Her breath quickens. It's weird and obsessive, even for her, but this is her favorite part, the little piece de resistance of this guy's morning routine. He walks to his nightstand and slips on his wristwatch. Bella wishes she could see it a little better, but, she's satisfied.

He leaves his bedroom, and Bella goes to hers.

Bella Swan has always had a thing for well dressed men.

Most of her friends are the same way, but for Bella, this appreciation of men's attire has crossed the line from preference to quirk to maybe-even-obsession.

It's always been this way... since college at least, when she found herself drawn most to older guys, graduate school hotties excelling in business or law. When her girls were attending frat parties she was conversing over drinks at swanky hotel bars, and if her suitors were lucky, she let them take her home. Nowadays they're Wall Street darlings, consultants and brokers. The occasional CEO or COO, provided they aren't drowning in self importance and douchebaggery.

She loves the shoes, the shirt, the jacket, and, if he wears it, the cologne. She's choosy, but when someone catches her eye, it's a rush.

And the crowning jewel?

The watch. Always the watch.

There's something so sexy about a man who invests in this kind of finery. It's not just cost, because some pricey pieces are plain gauche. Understated trumps loud any day.

No... it's the overall effect. How he, whomever he is, rocks that timepiece.

The funny thing is, Bella herself is rather laid back when it comes to her personal style. She dresses up for work, but the second she comes home, her purse and shoes hit the floor, followed instantly by her clothing. Half the time, she wanders around her apartment in the nude, something Alice, Bella's best friend since the sixth grade, berates her constantly about.

"You've got a split personality," says Alice. She rifles through the menagerie of jeans and t-shirts in Bella's wardrobe, sipping casually on the glass of Shiraz she's brought to the bedroom.

"No, I just prefer comfort to..."

"To style."

"I have style," Bella says, frowning as she sniffs her wine. "That stuff was expensive...I'm just a lot more chill than you are."

Alice snorts, glancing down at the dress she's wearing. "That's for sure."


"I'm just messing with you," Alice cackles.

It's a conversation they have from time to time. It can't be helped; Alice is a fashion designer, so everything is inspiring, everyone a project. Bella doesn't actually mind this – Alice is who keeps her looking sharp and sexily professional at the office. Working sixty hours a week at a publishing firm leaves Bella little time for self expression, so she trusts Alice as a personal shopper as well as a confidante.

Rising from her bed, Bella wanders out to her living room window. It's early evening, and the windows of the sky god show nothing but the reflection of a darkening sky.

"Which one was he wearing today?" Alice asks, coming to stand beside her.

"The Armani, I think."

"I wonder if he accessorizes with different watches?" muses Alice. "Or if he sticks to one..."

"I don't know," Bella sighs. "But I'd love to find out."

Alice and Bella meet up with Rose at an after hours lounge downtown.

After a martini or several, Bella's feeling remarkably loosened up, which is a relief considering the stressful day she just had. She's about to visit the ladies room when a very familiar face comes in to view, glueing her to her seat.

He doesn't see her, but she certainly sees him. In fact, it's the closest they've ever been, mere feet between them, no glass, no sky.

Rose's lips tickle her ear. "Who're you checking out?"

Bella inclines her heard towards the sky god, who, this close, is even closer to her original assessment than she realized. His jacket's gone, the sleeves to his white shirt rolled to the elbow. Bella wonders where his cuff links are, wonders if they clatter about like loose change in the pockets hiding his hands.

"Mm-mm. Fine piece of man right there," Rose says, approval honeying her voice.

"I saw him first," mutters Bella. She giggles, thinking how true this actually is. She certainly has been seeing him...every inch of him, every morning, during the reverse strip tease he performs in his bedroom before work.

"Take him. I like 'em bigger, anyway," whispers Rose, voice dropping on the double entendre.

"Who, now?" Alice asks, scanning the room. It doesn't take long to see who the girls have got their eyes on, though. Bella's face is an open book.

The sky god walks by a moment later, listening to the man next to him. Taking another sip of her blueberry martini, Bella allows her eyes fall to his wrist.

Presidential Rolex, full pave diamond bezel by the looks of it.

She smirks. Of course.

Monday, and for once, it's not overcast out.

Alice meets Jasper in his office at one o'clock on the dot. He smiles as he kisses her, settling his hand on the small of her back. It's been a busy day for them both, and it feels good to have this lunch hour respite.

Jasper leads his lady to the elevator, enjoying the way she gushes over the wedding dress she's been commissioned to work on. Alice doesn't know it yet, but her Jasper plans to ask her to marry him soon. He knows she'll say yes; they've been in love since the moment they met.

The elevator is about half full, and the doors about to close, when someone slides through at the last second.

Alice's eyes widen almost comically as Jasper nods at Bella's sky god. She only saw him for a moment at that bar, but she's positive it's him.


"Jasper, hey. How's it going?"

"Good, good. I don't think you've met Alice," Jasper replies, giving his girl a quick squeeze on the hip.

"No, I haven't," says Edward, smiling.. He offers his hand as the elevator starts its descent. "Nice to meet you, Alice. Jasper and I have been friends since..."

"Since college, man," laughs Jasper.

"Nice to meet you, too," Alice says, smiling as they shake hands. She half-listens to the men's conversation, surprised at this serendipitous little development. She wonders how close Jasper and Edward actually are, and if it would be a natural step for them to start hanging out now that they've become reacquainted.

They reach the ground floor, parting ways as they step out in to the lobby.

"...so give me a call, then," Jasper is saying. "We can arrange something."

"Will do." Edward flashes a quick grin, his teeth white and perfect and good Lord Bella's going to flip.

"So...how well do you know him?" Alice asks as she and Jasper stroll down the crowded sidewalk.

"Quite well, actually. We were brothers in the same fraternity."

Alice laughs. "You so don't fit the mold of a frat boy."

"It wasn't that kind of frat," Jasper chuckles. "Anyway, Ed's a good guy..."

He proceeds to tell Alice all about his old buddy, not realizing she's already plotting how best to have Edward and Bella meet.

Edward yawns. It's going to be an early night, he can tell.

Then he glances over at the mountain of paperwork threatening to avalanche off of his desk, and sighs. Nope. Another late night.

Loosening his tie, he walks over to the wet bar and pours himself two fingers of scotch. With the exception of the isolated night or two at his favorite lounge, he's had very little down time in the past couple of weeks. His father's brokerage firm is smack dab in the middle of its most lucrative deal ever, and if things pan out accordingly, Edward will be promoted.

It's what he – and his father, Carlisle – have both dreamed of since Edward's youth, but now that it's happening things feel very fast paced and overwhelming.

Edward keeps it together, though. It's what he does.

Dusk falls while he's lost in thought. He wanders to his living room windows, leaving the lights off so that he can gaze at the city lights. All around him, people with lives as busy as his are bustling to and fro, coming home or maybe leaving again.

Just as he's about to swallow the last of his scotch, a light comes on somewhere in his peripheral. He follows it, squinting through the dim light to a bright window in a condo across from his.

A curvy brunette walks across the room, shedding articles of clothing like a tree losing leaves in autumn.

Edward presses himself to the glass, unable to believe what he's seeing.

Does she not know she's on display?

She strips down to her bra and underwear before disappearing from sight. Edward waits, literally holding his breath, and is rewarded when the brunette strolls back in to view, her hands working to release her bra.

It isn't as if Edward has never seen a girl in her underwear, but there's something so incredibly alluring about the ritual of this girl's undressing. She does it automatically; even from here he can see that her mind is elsewhere.

The straps of her black bra dangle suddenly, but she leaves Edward's line of sight before taking it completely off.

What is she doing? Pacing? Listening to music?

Suddenly she's back, gnawing on what appears to be a carrot...

in nothing but small, black panties.

It nearly brings Edward to his knees. He loves breasts. Really.

But her breasts? Prettiest titties he's seen in a while. Maybe ever.

He knows he should turn away, that what he's doing is probably illegal and most definitely immoral, but it's...quite literally...too hard.

Has she always done this? Disrobed in front of her windows? He squints; it looks like she's in her bedroom. Edward thinks her condo looks like his; perhaps they have similar layouts, but on opposite sides.

He watches as she twists her hair up in to some complicated thing atop her head and then closes her blinds with a quick movement.

Edward's heart slams in his chest. He knows she didn't see him, but did something spook her? Maybe she realized, belatedly, that she was putting on a show for potential peeping toms.

Like him.

Shaking his head at what just transpired, Edward tosses back what's left of his drink and closes the drapes. He's got work to do.

In the morning, after his shower, Edward can't help but peek through his living room curtains at the condo across the way. The brunette's blinds are still drawn. He wonders what she does for a living; her clothes – at least what he saw of them before they got tossed aside – makes him think she's a professional of some sort.

The phone rings. Caller ID lets him know it's his father.

After a quick conversation about an upcoming morning meeting, Edward hustles back to his bedroom to get ready for the day.

He doesn't notice the brunette, who is now in her living room, eating an apple in the nude while she watches him get dressed.

"Fantastic work, Edward." Beaming, Carlisle Cullen claps a hand on his eldest son's back, pleased with the series of events that have led them to this moment. In a little under a week, they have secured the business of their biggest client to date.

Edward grins, nodding. "Thanks, Dad." He breathes deeply, grateful. He didn't realized just how stressed he's been until now.

"Come on. Let's do lunch," Carlisle says, already on his phone. "In fact, let's round up the office."

Within they hour they, along with the rest of their financial team, are celebrating over drinks and sushi in a posh downtown restaurant. Edward's halfway through his meal when he spots Jasper's girlfriend sitting down at a corner table...with a rather familiar looking brunette.

It's her. It's got to be. He only saw her for a couple of minutes the night before, but he'd know her face...and hair...and body...anywhere.

Smirking, he picks up his chopsticks and angles another piece of unagi in to his mouth.

Looks like he'll be giving Jasper a call.

Alice stares at Edward, slightly bewildered that he knows who Bella is; apparently he saw them at lunch the day before. She can scarcely believe the heady sense of kismet surrounding this situation.

"You want to what, now?"

"I want to... know what she likes." Edward smiles, shrugging.

"Watches," blurts Alice. "She loves watches."

"Wrist watches?"


Edward frowns."Does she have one? I could..."

"She has a couple, but it's men's watches she likes."

"She likes to wear men's watches, or she likes the way they look on men?"


Jasper coughs, trying to hide his amusement. He knows how particular Bella can be, and he knows especially how...into wristwatches she is.

"Shush, Jas," Alice says, swatting at him.

"So let me get this straight," Edward says, trying valiantly not to envision Bella in nothing but his favorite Tag Heuer and failing, "You're saying nice men's watches turn her on?"

Alice turns a bit pink at the frank discussion of her best friend's fetishy behavior, but she nods. "What're you gonna do?"

Edward shakes his head, thinking. "What's Bella's favorite brand?"

"I saw him again," moans Bella. "This morning."

"Oh, yeah?" Alice says, practically vibrating with the knowledge that she has a secret.

"Yeah. He's gorgeous, Al. Gorgeous. And he just... looks like money. I bet he has more than one watch. I bet they're all fabulous."

Alice knows this is actually true, but she's been sworn not to say anything so instead she butters a chunk of french bread and shoves it in to her mouth.

"He wore a green tie today. Really, really light green..." Bella's eyes take on a glazed and dazed expression.

"To bring out his eyes," Alice mumbles.

Bella turns to her, sighing. "They were green, weren't they? I couldn't tell if they were blue or green that night at the bar, but...they were green. So pretty."

If this were any ordinary situation, Alice would encourage Bella to return to the bar, to somehow find out who her sky god was. As it is, though, the sky god has plans of his own, plans to woo Bella.

Jasper assures Alice that Edward's a great guy, and that if Bella will give him a chance, he'll treat her like a queen.

But little does Jasper know; Bella has been Edward's since the morning she first saw him.

The first watch is delivered to Bella's job. The courier hands a clipboard over for her to sign before leaving a small package on her desk.

It's not her birthday. There's no return address.

Frowning, Bella quickly opens it.

And gasps when she sees the box inside.

It's a Rolex.

She's got one, actually; it was the first "fancy" watch she bought for herself when she got promoted to her current position.

This Rolex,though? Makes her vintage AirKing look like she got it from a machine at the grocery store. This is a Datejust Turn-o-Graph, resplendent in white gold and oyster. Easily thousands more than her Rolex, which, up until now, has been the prize of her collection.

It's so fancy she's afraid to put it on.

A couple of days later, another package comes to Bella's condo.

She wants to be freaked out that some very rich, eccentric weirdo knows both her address and that wristwatches make her randy, but she's too breathlessly excited by the labels.

After signing for the package, Bella shuts the door and practically runs to her room.

And nearly faints.

It couldn't be. These run at nine or ten grand. Is this a joke?

But no; upon opening the elegant packaging, Bella sees that there is in fact a Cartier Ballon Bleu De Cartier inside. Collapsing on to her bed, she very carefully picks the watch up.

It's heavy.

And so very sexy.

Watch number three is delivered to Bella's condo, as well.

Giddy with anticipation, she signs for it and sits at the dining room table.

Tag Heuer. Grand Carrera.

It's her favorite of the three, and that's saying a lot.

A small, hand written note flutters to the floor, and intrigued, Bella picks it up.

Wear me.

Hesitantly, she slips the watch over her wrist and clasps it before rising and walking to her bedroom. She lays down and closes her eyes, trying to imagine what sort of man would not only indulge her fantasies this way, but spend so much money to do so.

She loves the way the cool surfaces of the watch feel against her warm skin. She loves imagining this secret admirer, wondering what he looks like, wondering if he's as worthy of her affection and attraction as someone like the sky god.

"Who are you?" she sighs, eyes closed, caught in sexy-sweet daydreams. If her unknown suitor is willing to spoil her this way anonymously, what would he be like in the flesh? It makes Bella shiver.

The next day, rain falls ferociously from the sky. Bella is tempted to flake on her lunch date with Alice and Rose, but decides to go anyway at the last minute. Rushing from her office building with an umbrella and in a raincoat, she hurries in to the first cab she sees.

"I thought you'd take a rain check," Rose murmurs, watching the rain from her office window. She turns, grinning at a slightly wet and bedraggled Bella. "Get it? Rain check?"

"Hardy har har," Bella grouses, smoothing back her hair. "Just wait until you get out there; you'll see. Is Alice almost ready?"

"I'm here, I'm here," sings Alice, emerging from the hall. "Come on; let's go."

The trio make their way to the elevator, chatting lightly. Bella shows her friends the latest watch.

"Damn," breathes Rose. "This guy ain't playing."

"Tell me about it," says Bella. "I'm almost afraid it's too good to be true. In fact, it probably is..."

She trails off as the elevator door opens.

A small group of people get on, including Jasper. Bella glances at Alice, wondering if she knew her boyfriend was so close by.

But it doesn't matter. Because right behind Jasper, is sky god.

Bella's heart leaps crazily in her chest. She doesn't know whether to check him out or pretend he doesn't exist. She hasn't been this nervous since college.

Maybe not even then.

She feels him beside her, smells him: mint, cotton, cologne. A shudder works its way up her body.

His hand dangles at his side, inches away from hers. Bella glances down, curious to see what sort of watch he's wearing. It would really complete the voyeuristic fantasy she's got going on each morning.

It's a Tag Heuer.

Grand Carrera.

Bella looks at her own wrist, hanging so close to his. Their watches are identical.

She freezes, her eyes darting between her wrist and his. Identical.


What're the chances?

Bella side-eyes Alice, but she's leaning into Jasper, having a quiet conversation. Rose is engrossed in her texting.

Heart pounding, Bella finally sneaks a peek at the sky god. He smirks down at her, startling her with his attention. Looking away as if his brilliance will burn her, Bella stares straight ahead. This is definitely new for her. She can be quiet, but she's never been shy, and while she might be single, she knows she's a good catch.

What is it about this man that turns her in to a shaky mess?

Probably the fact you watch him every morning like a damn pervert. What's the female version of a peeping tom?

But no. It's more than that. There's coincidence, and then there's... this.

Could he be the one behind the watches?

The elevator doors open. Bella steps haltingly forward, looking back at Alice, who is kissing Jasper good bye.

"See ya, Bella," Jasper says, saluting her in the silly way he does.

"Bye, Jas," she laughs, her eyes flickering automatically to the sky god. He's walking with Jasper now, and their heads are inclined as they talk. Shocked that they know one another, Bella forgets to play it cool, gaping until they disappear in to the crowd.

Alice knows Bella's about to burst. She raises her eyebrows expectantly.

Sure enough, Bella clears her throat. "Does...Jasper know him?"

Alice takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Yes, he does."

"What's his name?"


Bella paces her bedroom floor, naked and nibbling on fruit.

All day long she's thought about Edward, her mind repeatedly going back to the moment she saw his watch. It's been niggling at her; something akin to a sixth sense tells her there's more to this than what meets the eye.

She sighs, turning toward the darkening window...and gasps, dropping her peach.

Directly across from her, in a condo with no lights, stands the silhouette of a man. At least, she thinks. It's hard to see at this time of day, dusky grey with the last hints of sunlight glinting off of the glass buildings around her. Goosebumps break out over her skin, and yet she makes no move to cover herself. Because if there is someone there, and he's looking at her, it's a little late for modesty.

Instead, she picks up her peach and walks slowly out of the bedroom. Frankly, she's always assumed that the condo across from hers was empty; she's never seen anyone in it, and the curtains or blinds or whatever are always shut tight. She frowns, making her way through her home to the spot in the living room where she watches the sky god each morning.

The light goes on; the blinds are open. Bella stares in disbelief; sky god is never home at this time.

She watches as he unknots his tie and slides it off. Unbuttons his shirt, but leaves it on.

And then, as if he's moving in slow motion, he turns around and faces her. She can see him squinting, coming closer and pressing his hand against the glass.

Now she's in the dark, and he's the one in the light, but somehow, she knows he knows she's there.

Now she knows that his condo and the one she thought was empty are one and the same...same layout, opposite ends.

And now she knows that his name is Edward.

Trembling, she grabs a blanket off of her couch and turns on a lamp.

He can see her now.

He smiles.

Edward's heart is in his throat.

He's been caught watching, and yet...she didn't seem too freaked out. Well, she did leave her bedroom, but...okay, maybe she was freaked.

He wonders if she's made the connection, that he is the one who has been sending her watches. He couldn't believe it when he saw her today; she'd followed the instructions on the note.

And she'd noticed his watch. She'd definitely noticed. He didn't think he'd ever seen someone's face turn as red as hers did when he caught her looking at him.

Edward laughs to himself. Maybe it won't be too hard to woo Ms. Bella Swan after all.

He walks slowly to his bedroom, kicking his shoes off along the way.

Off come the cufflinks, and then the tie. He's starting on his shirt when he sees movement in his mirror's reflection. Turning, he zeroes in on the condo across from him.

In a second he knows. It's her; it's got to be. He can't quite see, but...he feels her.

You're going crazy, Cullen. Too many hours at the office.

But then a light goes on. Soft, gold light illuminating the girl he's spent the past week fixated on. She's wrapped in a blanket now, and he should feel guilty that he spied on her before but he just can't.

And by the smile on her face, and the vantage point she's got on his bedroom, he suspects she's been doing a little spying of her own.

The next morning, Edward dresses slowly, his eyes continually going to the reflection of the condo behind him. Finally, when he can't stand it anymore, he turns and waves, feeling idiotic.

To his relief, there's movement, and then she's there, pressed up against the glass, wrapped in a blanket again.

Jeez, is she always this...naked?

The thought makes his pants a bit tight. He runs a hand through his hair and, on a whim, taps his watch before leaving, as if to say "gotta run".

Bella's heart races like it never has before. She can't believe it's come to this: Edward is the sky god and he's acknowledging her. It's weird and amazing and fated and if it turns out that he's the one behind the watches, and she bets he is, she'll really lose her shit.

She dresses quickly for work, fully aware that she is dressing for him.

When she enters her office, there's a package waiting on her desk. She immediately takes the watch she's wearing off and locks it in her desk. She rips open the Fed Ex box so fast she gets a paper cut – damn that stings – and retrieves the watch from within. It's beautiful...and it's a women's watch. The first out of four.

Bella has never seen it before, but when she reads the name of it, her chest tightens.

Movado. The Bela. It's the least expensive of the her admirer's gifts, and yet, it means the most.

She puts it on, admiring the black face and the diamonds gracing the bracelet. It's understated, and breathtakingly perfect for her.

She searches the box, hoping for another note. As fun as this as been, she's becoming a little desperate to meet the man behind the watches. At least, she hopes it's a man.

But then her fingers crinkle against a folded note.

I'd ask you to wear me, but somehow I think you've already put me on.

Will you take a chance today?

Come to Frangelico's. Five thirty.

Bella knows the place. It's a homey little Italian restaurant, nestled in a more residential part of town. It's pricey, but very cozy. She's only been there once or twice.

But she'll be there again, this afternoon.

And she knows it's crazy. All of it.

Almost as crazy as watching her hottie neighbor get dressed every morning, only to realize he's probably been watching her get undressed every night.

It's crazy but she'll be there.

Alice is nowhere near as apprehensive about her best friend meeting a stranger as she should be. But Bella is so nervous she hardly notices Alice's lack of reaction. She simply rambles through lunch, picking at her salad. As they part ways afterward, Alice watches Bella walk down the sidewalk, head in the clouds. She pecks a quick message to Jasper.

She'll be there. Let him know.

At five twenty seven Bella steps from a cab, breathlessly murmuring for the driver to keep the change. She smooths her skirt down as she walks over the sidewalk, heart thrumming, face flushed. What if it's not him? What if...?

There are a thousand what-ifs. A million.

She slowly opens the door to Frangelico's, so anxious she nearly misses the mouth watering smells of garlic and fresh bread. Except for a couple near a window, the place is empty.

Oh, and a man in a booth. He's in a suit, and he has a blond ponytail. Chewing her lip, Bella tries not to be disappointed. After all, this gentleman has taken a lot of time and effort – and money, dear God – to get to know what she likes and the least she can do is –


She spins around, clutching her purse. "Edward?"

He smiles, and it's so beautiful she could cry. Literally cry. Relief, so much of it, floods through her body. She feels vaguely light headed.

"You know my name," he says, his eyes searching her face.

"Alice told me," she whispers, swallowing. They've only just met, but she feels like they've been sharing a parallel existence, a journey of sorts.

Her eyes drop to his wrist; he's wearing a Movado today, too. His hands find hers. "May I?"

Bella is so far gone. It is indecent, the things she'd do for this man. "Please."

He stands behind her, warm, a nice contrast to the cool glass she's pressed against. It's the closest he's come to her all evening, and except for holding hands, they've done nothing but talk. They look at her condo, quiet and for the moment, empty.

"Did you know I could see you?" she whispers, eyes fluttering shut as he skims his nose across her neck.

"Not until yesterday." And then, "did you know I could see you?"

"Not until yesterday," she echoes, turning to look at him.

They look at each other, inches apart instead of worlds. Edward's eyes are so very, very green; she doesn't think she's ever seen eyes so green. Bella's are dark and endlessly expressive; they've been drawing him closer and closer since she met him at the restaurant.

He regards her momentarily, reveling in the power he feels when her cheeks redden from shyness or arousal or maybe both.

"What?" she whispers, forcing herself to maintain eye contact.

Smiling wryly, he shakes his head. He comes closer, bends to kiss her.

Her intake of breath is sharp, surprised, as if she didn't see it coming, even though it's all she's thought about since the first fateful day she saw him getting dressed.

Their lips press and part, tongues touch, warm and wet. It's playful, sweet; Bella's thoughts coalesce in to one streamlined refrain of kiss me kiss me kiss me.

Edward's hands frame her face before sliding down her neck, somehow both soothing and nerve-wracking. He backs her up against the window. Now her back is cool and her front is warm.

She's covered in Edward; his smell, taste, touch.



"Is it wrong to want you?"


"I mean, right now."

"I don't know." She pauses, letting his kisses travel to her throat. "But you've always, always fascinated me."

"Fascinated?" he murmurs, gazing down at her. The sun has gone down now, and they stand in near darkness.

Bella's almost embarrassed at what an understatement that is. She wants him so badly she's almost desperate.

"What else?" he asks, running his tongue along the shell of her ear.

She shivers, which is what he wanted her to do. She's melting right there in his arms, and he wants to see how far this will go.

"How long have you been watching me?" he asks, backing away when Bella doesn't respond.

She watches Edward's fingers inch down his shirt, undoing the buttons as he goes.

"A while."


A frisson of boldness: "Because I could."

He grins, one side of his kiss-reddened mouth crooked higher than the other, and for a second Bella imagines Edward must've been a gorgeous child. The sexiest sort of high school sweetheart, with half the female population hanging off his dick. It's a wonder he's not already married.

"Have you..." she falters, licking her lips nervously. "Have you really been watching me?"

His smile dies, his eyes traveling the length of her. "Yes."

"How long?" Her voice is shaky.

"A week."

"So you've seen me..."

"You didn't realize how easy it was to see in?"

"Not...in to my bedroom. I thought this place was empty. I thought... I didn't know."

He nods, dropping the tie.

Cuff links, carelessly dropped on his dresser.

Bella reciprocates by unbuttoning her blouse. He stops her. "Can I?"


Standing behind her, he finishes with the buttons and slides the garment from her shoulders. It's soft, cashmere perhaps, or angora.

Like Bella.

He unzips her skirt and tugs it off, leaving her in panties and a bra, plain, satin, black.

"You like black," he notes, sliding his palms over her hips.

She holds up her wrist, showing him her new watch. "So do you, apparently."

"Do you like it?"

He's always behind her, and she always wants to see him. "Yes," she breathes, stepping away from him to sit on the edge of his bed. She grins, motioning him to continue. "Go on." She's getting the chance to see him take his clothes off for once, and she's got front row seats.

Smirking, he loses the shirt, the pants, the socks. His underwear is gone before she can register that he's actually, really, truly naked, and then he's on his knees, yanking her by her legs so that she's nearly hanging off the bed.

He peels her panties off and tosses them aside.

This, this, is what has been getting him off lately: the fantasy of how his naked neighbor looks this close up, imagining how she smells.

"Take it off," he whispers, leaning up to touch her bra.

Bella obliges, unable to believe that any of this is happening.

But it is.

She wanted it to, and now it is. She hopes against hope that it's real, that he wants what she wants, and then realizes he wouldn't have spent thirty thousand dollars in the span of a week indulging her watch fetish if he didn't.

Want what she wants, that is.

The first touch of his tongue is a surprise, the second is welcome and so, so good. His mouth is so hot, his fingers long and deep inside, pleasuring, prepping. It's good that the lights are off, because the windows are wide open, and even though these windows – hers and his – are what brought them together, in a way, she doesn't need the world to see his face buried between her legs.

Something makes her look down at him and he's watching her, his eyes intent.

It makes her tense, and clench, and come, the connection, the pursuit of their pleasure, the realization of their mutual infatuation, the fixation, the obsession. Grasping his hair, she cries out.

He moans and flattens himself against her body, driving himself in to her with one sharp thrust.

Hands clasped, they find themselves in each other, pushing, pulling, grasping, groaning. Her legs tighten around his body; she pulls him close, pushing her hips against his, meeting his movements.

"Let me hold you," she gasps, pulling her hands from his grip so that she can wrap them around his neck.

He holds her close and rolls on to his back, bringing her with him, wrapping her body around his completely..

She laughs, loving it, maybe loving him. They kiss, slow, wet, before he sucks her earlobe into his mouth. "You're perfect, Ms. Swan," he sighs, relaxing their rhythm to a slow grind. "I could do this all night."

She bites her lip. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," he says, nibbling on her ear. "Watch me."