AN: Yup, another long chappy, coz I'm feeling generous ;] Now I know this one is a little fast paced, but honestly, with how close their relationship is (or was) I think it could happen at this speed. Enjoy! xxx
Disclaimer: I have nothing to claim, sorry.
It felt like he'd been here before.
Lashes batting, lips puckered, cleavage offered, waiting for his attention after a night out to some bar that only ended in her being more horny, now sitting beside him in his car, staring at him wantonly with sly eyes…
Oh yes, because he had been here before.
The night had gone by slowly, every second a torturous blow to his heart when he thought of her. Rose had purred and curled herself around him in the club, ignoring other men's wandering gazes. Nibbling on his ear when he became lost in thought, over and over. Always thinking, always of her. The blonde wasn't really a revenge date – he didn't want to get back at his little sister by procuring some slut. No, it was to keep his mind off of… well, her.
Hadn't worked so well.
Rose had chatted with him, flirted with him, every time they crossed paths. He worked near to her and they always seemed to eat at the same café for their lunch break. He suspected she planned this. She seemed like the stalker type. And honestly, she was gorgeous – all sexy curves and luscious hair.
But that coy smile and those swaying hips weren't what he wanted. That much was obvious after spending hours with her wriggling around on his lap 'accidently' and having no sign of a boner. Nope, he wanted purity; shyness. Innocence. He wanted brown eyes to look at him with a hunger that was alien to her, to look at him for help with the strange burning in her lower abdomen, to look at him with a fresh sense of satisfaction that he created.
He wanted her.
She too had curves, smaller, subtler, sweeter, sexier, and hair that made his fingers twitch to run through, all long and silky, and made for his hands to grab and play with. Her clothes were modest, hiding the underwear beneath which awakened his animal. White cloth, white lace, white and pure.
She was heaven. She was everything he wanted. She was not here. She was not his.
Rose was pouting as he stared resolutely ahead at the road, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly he was afraid it'd snap. Every attempt to bring his eyes to her was in vain. The ride back to her house was silent on his part, and when he stopped he still didn't even look at her.
But she grinned, suggestive. "So my place, I'm guessing. That's cool; I've got a box of condoms… or two."
Her claws touched his chest, fingering the collar of his shirt. Yes, he'd definitely been here before. The guilt and shame and disgust were no new friends to him. He pushed her away roughly. She tumbled back into her seat.
"Leave my car and don't say a word," he gritted out. She stared in shock.
"Now!" he snapped. Rose had enough common sense to exit the vehicle wordlessly. At least this one listened, he mentally spat.
As soon as she was out the car, he shot off back home. The clock on his dashboard said it was nearly midnight and he grinned mercilessly. "Let's hope Bellsy's home," he muttered to himself spitefully. He knew he wouldn't hurt her – she knew this too – but they both also knew that he'd have no problem hurting Eric.
But the boy had no need to fear his wrath. He was gone and Bella was sat, wrapped up in a blanket with some tea in her lap, on the couch before the TV. She looked up at him with those big brown innocent eyes, but quickly glanced away. Remorse unsettled his stomach at her being uncomfortable around him. He flung his jacket on a chair and shut the front door. He watched her as she watched anything but him, before he finally spoke. "So, did you have a nice time?"
Her eyes shifted, a glimmer easy to see in them that betrayed tears. He thought for a moment that she wouldn't answer, but then her small mumble caught his ears. "I suppose. I'm sure you did." The ending was sour, resentful.
His heart broke.
She didn't understand, didn't trust him not to continue his old ways. He had never intended to sleep with Rose, never. Just waste away the time and keep himself occupied without the constant niggling that she was on a date. Even if his plan failed, he had hoped she'd see that. He'd made her a promise. He never intended to break it. She didn't trust him. Didn't believe in him. And suddenly her sadness was too much. He fell onto the couch beside her and gripped her hand in his gently, staring into her downcast eyes.
"No, it was awful," he said softly, truthfully. Her fidgeting gave away her disbelief and he held her hand tighter. "I didn't have sex with her, Bells. I didn't even kiss her after that first time."
She hummed, not really agreeing. His forehead crinkled and he rested it on her shoulder tiredly.
"Really, Bells. Please. Believe me."
The words were layered with hidden meanings – trust me, believe me, believe in me, love me, help me – and they seemed to ignite her concern. She set down her cup and slid her arms around his neck, hugging him to her. "I do. I'm sorry, I do believe you."
He could breathe easier with her wrapped around him. He took advantage of this and inhaled deeply, calming himself down with her familiar scent. He pulled back just a bit within the circle of her arms. "No, Bells, I'm sorry." He shook his head. "I shouldn't have gone out with Rose, she means nothing to me. I just…" He took another deep breath, looking up into her caring, loving eyes. "I just didn't want to be stuck here in the house without you. I needed…"
"It's okay," she hushed him gently. "I understand. I should have told you about the date. I know that now, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have agreed to it in the first place. It wasn't what I thought I wanted." She smiled a little, hoping to lighten the mood, "He hardly talked to me all night. And he didn't even kiss me at the door or ask to go out again."
His fists clenched against the couch. He couldn't have handled it if the boy had kissed her. She was his, only his. He was the only one allowed to touch her, kiss her, make love to her…
His inner animal told him this was true. This was right. And Emmett couldn't fight the thoughts anymore. Yes, he would get his Bella to love him, he would. She deserved to be loved, and he just might kill anyone who tried to give her that love. It had to be him. Just him. Always him.
"I don't think I'll go on another date," she was saying now. He rejoiced inside. "It was pointless. I mean, I was excited at first, but… He didn't meet up to my expectations."
His eyes locked onto hers. "And what are your expectations?"
She flustered under his gaze, quickly blurting out and changing topic, "When was your first kiss? Do you remember it?"
Yes. He did remember. He knew exactly when it happened. Renata Holden, in the playground. He was eleven. It was small and chaste, but he remembered it. She had blushed and run away, saying it was a dare. He didn't care. His first kiss. But he didn't tell Bella this. "Why? When was yours?" The idea that some guy had kissed those lips, touched them, felt them, caressed them, nearly made steam come out his ears. She bit her lip and his attention was drawn to there. Those soft, plump, pink lips… He wanted to kiss them now. To see is they tasted like he'd dreamed, all sweet and sugary and amazing.
"I've never been kissed," she mumbled. His eyes widened and his tongue swept across his own lips without thought, all attention now centred on hers. All his. Only his. Pure, virgin lips. Innocent.
"Would you like to be kissed?" he asked her, helpless to the urges he felt bubbling up inside him. His baby blues were still on those lips.
Her breath faltered and she started babbling, "Well of course, who doesn't? I would have already, I just never –" He was still watching her mouth form the words, fascinated by the slight movements, fixated on the rosy colour and the dip of them, the sweet voice that escaped them, the utter kissable quality that begged to be put to good use. And then he did it. He cut off her words and silenced her.
He kissed those soft, plump, pink lips with his and he felt no regret in doing so.