A/N: Hey there, guys. I'm back with a new one. I was going to post this tomorrow, but I'm home sick and feeling needy. :)

Give it a read and let me know what you think, and read the A/N at the end for some more info.

Characters belong to S. Meyer.

Michelle Renker Rhodes has agreed to take this ride with me once again as my BETA!

Chapter 1 - Reunion

I see him long before he sees me.

He's standing in the middle of the large, glittering ballroom, laughing it up with the President , a couple of other fellow party members, and Irina, of course - the model he's been shagging for the past few months. Arm in arm, she strokes his side – abs to thigh, back and forth and back again – as he listens intently to whatever President Martin is telling him. Even from here I can see her long, red-manicured nails scratching into his tuxedo, the way her expensive tips score into his sensitive ribs. Though he doesn't react outwardly, I remember how much he likes that.

Politics and the promise of upcoming sex- he must be in his own personal heaven.

An image from seven years ago hits me, of us back in that London flat when it was my nails digging into his sweaty back, the delicious sounds he made, the way it spurred him on…

I blink rapidly to dispel the image. A trip down memory lane is not why I'm here.

"There's the President," Michael whispers into my ear, "and a couple of congressmen. The young one is Congressman Cullen."

I nod as if I hadn't been able to figure that out on my own – even if Edward and I hadn't had that fuck-fest of a weekend a few years ago. Everyone knows who Congressman Cullen is, even a Brit like me. He's as much celebrity as he is politician at this point.

And after all, this fundraiser is for him.

My eyes remain on Edward for a few seconds longer during this short reprieve before I rock his world to its core. I use the calm before the storm to compare this older version of him to the one that I once knew. He's let his hair grow longer; the reddish brown mane explodes in various unruly directions. His green eyes are as hypnotizing as ever; even from here they stand out like two glowing emeralds. He rests his weight casually over one hip; his tall frame still lean, still exuding power and confidence. His self-assurance hasn't diminished one iota. I can tell by that cocky grin of his that he seems to have only grown cockier. He still has that rich, deep laugh that automatically raises the spirits of everyone within hearing range. Bloody handsome as ever, he is - more so if I must be honest. Thirty-one suits him brilliantly.

I've arrived prepared for him, though. The red, floor-length, silk dress I'm wearing is meant to attract attention. The dress has been tailored to hug my curves in all the right places and based on the looks I've been getting it's doing its job quite well.

"You look beautiful tonight," Michael grins my way, his hand resting on the small of my back, rubbing circles round and round.

I grin back, my eyes still on Edward. "You've already told me that."

He chuckles and leaning close to my ear, whispers, "It bears repeating."

All of a sudden, Edward stops talking, mid-sentence it appears. He straightens out over his long legs. His shoulders stiffen. Emerald eyes roam round the room slowly, as if he senses something askew in his perfect world. As they near me I drop my head down and let my long hair cascade loosely in front, shielding me from his view. My heart starts racing in a way it only ever has around him, but I ignore it and remind myself of why I'm here.

I remind myself that as beautiful as he is on the outside, on the inside he is one ugly, heartless bastard.

"Congressman Cullen!" Michael calls out. Out of my periphery, I see him raise a hand in the air and wave.

"He's coming over," Michael exclaims excitedly, doing up the buttons on his tuxedo jacket. "Let me introduce you."

I nod again and pick up my wine glass. My hair still flows like a waterfall down the side of my face, making it impossible for the Congressman to see me - just yet.

"Congressman Cullen," Michael says in a voice full of misplaced respect and admiration. He shakes the Congressman's hand. "You have a great turn-out tonight."

"Mr. Newton," Edward replies.

My heart jumps in my chest at his voice. It's sure and smooth all at once, just as I remember it.

He continues in that perfect politician's voice of his. "Thanks so much for attending. Your support means a lot to this campaign."

Despite my nerves, I grin sardonically to myself, staring into my wine glass. Perhaps it's the five-thousand-dollar-a-plate price tag that means the most to the campaign.

"You know you have my full support, Congressman," Michael acknowledges.

Edward introduces his famous model girlfriend while Michael makes a right old arse of himself - fawning and gushing. He finally recovers enough to say,

"May I introduce you to my date this evening?"

I hear the pride in his voice and grin because I may not be a six-foot tall, blonde model, but I'm no bloody wallflower either; plus, I'm one of the highest-ranking execs in his corporation.

I look up and into Congressman Cullen's waiting eyes.

After seven years, Edward's expression shows no outward reaction to me. I'd be horribly gutted if I didn't know him better.

Michael makes the introductions, mentions that I'm heading one of his latest mergers and acquisitions at Newton Enterprises, and that I have been recruited from his London office. Edward's features display a keen interest, though no more than necessary. But though I may have only had one short weekend with him, I did learn quite a few bits. For example, I learned that while he was an expert at keeping emotion off his face, he could never completely keep it out of his eyes.

They go from bewilderment to incredulity to shock in the space of five seconds before it all leaches out, and all that's left is his pleasant, friendly expression.

I put a hand out to him. "Congressman Cullen."

He reaches for it straight away. When our hands meet, it's like we're back in that pub seven years ago, touching for the first time. The maddening tingle has not diminished one iota.

He introduces me to his girlfriend, and we give each other the requisite once-over beautiful women tend to give one another when meeting for the first time.

"Isabella Swan," Edward drawls slowly, stretching out my name like the long neck of a swan itself. Of course I see the humor in it; this is probably the first time he's actually heard my full name.

"So, Ms. Swan," he continues, curling up one half of his mouth in that signature semi-smirk that apparently calls to the masses in this country, "how do you find the U.S.?"

"I find it to be absolutely brilliant. I'm rather disappointed that it took me so long to venture over."

"And do you see this as a permanent move or simply temporary?" he asks pleasantly.

"Well, that remains to be seen, Congressman."

"On what?"

"On quite a few things, actually."

He allows his eyes to rest on me for a couple of more seconds before blinking and turning back to Michael.

"Mr. Newton, it was great seeing you again. I hope that you and Ms. Swan enjoy the rest of the evening, and if either of you need anything, please don't hesitate to let me know."

"Thank you very much, Congressman," Michael beams, while I thank him too and offer up another smile. Then Edward and his girlfriend walk off arm in arm.

Eventually, our five-thousand-dollar-a-plate dinner is served. My eyes only occasionally stray round the room to Edward. He plays the politician perfectly, laughing in all the right places, looking solemn and interested when it is called for. The President leaves after only a short while, but he's made his appearance, and that's what counts.

You see, Edward is running for Senate, but if what he told me that weekend long ago still holds true - and I'm pretty sure that it does - then that's not his end goal. President Martin is considered a shoe in for re-election in a few months. If Edward wins the Senate seat, that gives him four years to get ready, to turn the required age of thirty-five - to win.

Or, at least, that would've been the plan had I not shown up here tonight.

Now things may get a bit more…complicated for the Congressman.

I watch the way the room – men and women, old and young - watches him; the fascination on their faces; the adoration for the young Congressman from New York.

Oh yes, in a few years, he would've been a shoe-in.

After a couple of dances with Michael, I excuse myself to go to the washroom.

The washroom walls are all mirrored, top to bottom, perfectly polished, not a blemish anywhere. I watch myself walk in. My hair flows in spiraling waves round my shoulders, long and shining. The red dress billows at my ankles then splits invitingly in the front before hugging my thighs and lifting my breasts provocatively. The black stilettos give my legs a slinky, sensuous length. Seven years ago, the plans I had for my life were so simple; so different from what they've become. Seven years ago he stepped into my life and invited me to picture myself at his side; let me believe that I would be with him as he rose through the political world in America.

Seven years ago, he lied.

Now, he'll pay.

I use the loo and come out and wash my hands. The sink and counter are also all mirrored glass. It makes me pity the poor woman sitting on a stool to my right. She must have to work hard to keep it all as clean and sparkling as it is. I smile at her and drop a fiver in her dish before turning to walk out.

A massively muscular dark-haired man suited in black from head to foot rushes in. At first I think he's made a mistake and actually meant to go into the men's room, but then I watch as he checks every single stall before asking the woman on the stool to step out for a moment.

He eyes me carefully and for a split second he looks vaguely familiar…

Then he walks out.

I stand stock still, as if balanced over a precipice – which I am. I won't be able to turn back after this.

A few moments later, Edward walks in.

His eyes find me, and in an instant, he rushes over and cups my face in his hands before his mouth crashes over mine. I don't even have time to protest when he parts my lips with his tongue.

Or maybe that's just an excuse, because honestly I don't even try to protest. I put up no sort of fight. My hands reach up and fist his hair and bloody ell it's as soft as I remember it. He groans into my mouth while our tongues fight for dominance all while he walks me backwards and drops his hands to my hips, lifting me up onto the edge of the sink. Gathering up the material of my long dress, he bunches it over my thighs, fitting himself in between them. All the while, his mouth doesn't let up over mine.

"Bella, it is you," he murmurs against my neck when we come up for air. His mouth sucks demandingly at my heated skin, and I crane up to give him better access.

"I wasn't sure," he continues, his hands trailing down my shoulders, squeezing tight, gripping my hips. He pulls back slightly while his darkened eyes roam up and down my body. "You look so different. You sound so different." He attacks my mouth again with hard, demanding kisses. "But it is you," he breathes into my mouth. "It is you."

Our tongues tangle together again, and this time I moan and drop my hands to his backside, pulling him in closer, feeling his hardened cock right at my apex.

"Bella," he groans, in that way he had of making my name sound like a prayer.

I shift my hips against him while flashes of he and I tangled in between soft, white sheets invade my mind.

"Have you missed me, Edward?" I whisper, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth.

"Jesus, Bella, you have no idea." He grinds against me, instantly making me wetter than I've been in years, because my mind and body both remember how fantastic he was – how fantastic we were.

"What have you missed?" I lick his lips and then wrap my legs around him, digging my heels into the back of his thighs, holding him captive against me.

He doesn't seem to mind.

"Tell me what you've missed about me." I say in a low, sultry voice, throwing my head back while he moves deliciously against me – just the way I remember. He's not the type to merely move back and forth, he circles round and round with his lean hips, hitting me from every angle.

He fists my long hair hard, pulling it behind me, making my back arch all the more.

"I've missed your hair," he growls, grinding so insistently it's almost painful in its gloriousness.

He lets go of my hair with one hand and drops it to my breast, molding it firmly in his hands, running his thumb against my hardened nipple. I cry out - of course I do.

"I've missed your beautiful tits." His hand drops to my backside, which he cups and strokes and fondles with long, skilled fingers. "I've missed your perfect, round ass."

"What else?" I beg breathlessly, feeling that tingling deep in my stomach, that building sensation. He's getting me there quick. "Tell me what else."

He grins - that heady grin of his that oozes sex and power and control. I almost come undone right then and there.

But I manage to hold back. "Show me what else."

He holds my gaze and the hand at my backside drags forward, digging into my bare hip, pushing aside the lace of my thong. He slides a finger deep inside and we both cry out, strangled, feral – locked in each other's eyes.

"I've missed your heat. I've missed your moistness and your heat." He moans while his finger pumps in and out of me expertly. "I've missed being inside you."

"Oh, Oh," I whimper and drop my head helplessly, grabbing his hand and pushing another one of his long fingers in, moving round it and letting go.

He grips the hair at the nape of my neck, raising my head up and making me hold his gaze while I convulse around his fingers. I remember he likes this too.

"I've missed watching you come," he growls lowly, as if reading my mind.

When I finally have my wits about me again, I flash him a grin of my own.

"You've missed watching me come? How about fucking me? Have you missed fucking me, Edward?"

For a split second he seems startled – uncertain as to how to respond. This isn't the Bella that he knows. But then he lets out a long groan and starts undoing his fly.

"Yes, Bella. Yes, I've missed fucking you. I've missed-"

I don't get to hear what that last thing he's missed about me is, because I wrap my hand around his thick cock and grip and crush so hard that when I finally let go he drops to his knees with a high-pitched whimper.

For a couple of endless minutes, he can't speak or look up.

After a while, I snort and gingerly climb off of the sink, momentarily pitying the cleaning lady once again because now she has to clean off my arse-print.

With Edward still on his knees on the floor, I circumvent him and adjust my dress, smoothing out the wrinkles, turning this way and that in front of the mirrors to make sure I look presentable. I smooth down my hair and then open up my black clutch and pull out a hundred dollar bill - which I drop into the cleaning lady's dish.

"Goddamnit." He's panting, his shoulders rising and falling quickly. "Are you fucking insane? What the hell was that for?"

I glance down at his prostrate reflection through the mirror while I fix my lipstick, applying it round and round.

"What was that for?" I repeat, raising my brows at him through the mirror.

I whip around and drop down in front of him, where he's still breathing hard and carefully sticking his now limp knob back into his trousers.

I cock my head to the side. "That, Congressman, was for coming in here and assuming that I am still your weekend slut."

"Christ, Bella, I never-"

"You've missed me, have you, Love?" I drop the well-polished English and let my accent revert to the cockney he once claimed he loved. "Well, don't fret. You'll be getting your fill of me in the near future, you will. This here was just a taste, Congressman Cullen, of how I have you by the bollocks. You've missed me?" I repeat. "Trust me, pretty soon you'll wish you'd never laid eyes on me again."

And with that, I get up and make my way out of the washroom.

On my way out I spot the muscular security bloke standing a few feet away – waiting. His eyes meet mine, full of knowing amusement. I suppose this isn't the first time he's been sent into a woman's washroom to clear it out for the future leader of the free world.

"You'd better go get your congressman there a bag of ice," I call out as I pass him.

I think I hear him chuckle as he walks towards the washroom.

A/N: Thoughts?

Love to hear from you guys. Let me know what you're thinking…

A few housekeeping items:

Bella is from the UK, so if she says anything in British English that you don't really understand from the context, just drop me a line and I'll be glad to explain it. I was thinking of including a British English-to-American English translation guide at the end of each chapter, LOL, but that might get tiring for me as well as for you guys.

I am NOT from the UK, so if I get any of the phrases/words wrong, I apologize profusely, and mean no offense or disrespect. As some of you may have guessed already from some of my comments, I actually have a thing for all things British.

I'm also not a politician, American or British, so if I get anything wrong in that vein, please excuse me once again.

First few chapters will alternate between present and past in BPOV.

There will be EVENTUAL EPOV chapters, but not quite yet.

I expect this to update twice weekly, usually on Tuesdays and Fridays, but don't come at me with a pitchfork if RL gets in the way!

***AND QUITE IMPORTANT*** If you have any questions about my views on angst and Happily Ever Afters, please go to my profile!

Anything else? Ask away and yeah…let me know what you're thinking…

Twitter: PattyRosa817

Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.