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on July 18th, 2012, based on

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8296756/

The content in this book is copyrighted by SydneyAlice or their authorised
agent(s). All rights are reserved except where explicitly stated otherwise.

This story was first published on July 7th, 2012, and was last updated on July
16th, 2012.

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Summary

Night after night, she dances on the stage. She's beautiful, unbridled, and

unattainable. Or is she?

- 4 -

Chapter 1

AN: Short chapters and quick updates. I blame this plot bunny on stress. :)

I own nothing.

Soundtrack for this chapter: "Sail" by AWOLNATION

Stripped Bare

Her long brown hair flows down her back as she wraps her legs around the pole.

She's poetry in motion . . . graceful and gorgeous as she dances on the stage. In a
room filled with the completely generic and fake, she is extraordinary and real.

She arches her back, giving us a spectacular view of her perfect breasts. Peaks

and valleys of soft pink flesh that are just begging for my hands. For my lips. For my
tongue.

I'm the one who is completely ordinary, because I'm no different than any other

man in this room.

We all want her.

None of us can have her.

Or so they say . . .

I've built a billion-dollar empire by being a master negotiator, and I am

determined to prove "them" wrong.

Whoever they are.

She dances on this stage, and around that pole, night after night. We watch,

because we're men, ruled by our animalistic desires and straining erections.

We all want her, but the rules are consistently enforced.

You can look, but you can't touch.

- 5 -

I want to touch.

Desperately.

Her legs are long and lean in her stilettos, and I wonder if she would wear them in

my bed.

I bet I could convince her.

Money is quite the bargaining chip. It can move mountains, open doors, and

crumble defenses.

And, I think, it can convince a beautiful stripper that one night in the bed of a

billionaire would have to be better than dancing for a room full of them.

I'm not a complete monster. I know there must be a story behind the pretty brown

eyes of the woman draped around the silver pole. Most girls don't dream of
becoming strippers. Granted, this is a gentleman's club, which means the tables are
a little less sticky and the bouncers wear tuxedos, but I'd still be willing to bet my
life's fortune that this particular career choice is her idea of a last resort.

It doesn't have to be.

The thumping bass of the song resonates in my ears and the liquid in my glass

coats my tongue as I drink and watch. Her beautiful body shimmies down the pole . .
. slowly . . . enticingly, and I hear the quiet murmurs of appreciation from the other
assholes in the room.

She dances away from the pole and closer to the edge of the stage. She bends,

tilting her head forward, and I watch, mesmerized, as her hair cascades like a
waterfall. The music changes, and she leans her head back. My eyes linger over her
. . . along her lovely neck and down the length of her delectable body.

I lower my glass just as her eyes meet mine.

And I'm paralyzed.

Hypnotic.

Chocolate.

Our connection is brief, but in that moment, I get a glimpse of her soul.

- 6 -

And she gets a glimpse of mine.

The song ends, and the spectators whistle and cheer.

But not me.

The gears of my mind shift and spin, and within seconds, I have a plan.

- 7 -

Chapter 2

"Bella, your hands are shaking."

Rosalie offers me a glass of wine, and I wrap my trembling fingers around the

stem. I sit down at the vanity mirror and sip my drink, praying the alcohol will calm
my nerves.

I don't know that he's a regular customer, but I do know that he's here every night

I am. I know he sits at the very same table, and I know he orders the same drink.

And, after tonight, I know he has green eyes.

They burn me as I dance, and while I'm naked on the stage, he watches me with

an intensity that strips me bare, leaving my blood boiling and my soul exposed.

There may be other men in the room, but I only dance for him.

Tonight, I made my first mistake.

I looked into his eyes.

I had avoided making eye contact for weeks, because I knew . . .

I knew that would be my fatal flaw.

"Feeling better?" Rosalie asks, checking her reflection in my mirror.

"Yeah, thanks."

Rosalie is gorgeous, with long blonde hair that curls around her shapely breasts.

They're gorgeous, too, but they should be, considering how much she paid for them.
Sometimes, I wonder how her parents would feel, knowing she spent her college
fund on a new pair of double Ds. She considers them an investment, which they are,
if you plan on making this a career.

I don't.

- 8 -

There's a knock on our dressing room door. Emmett, the club manager, steps

inside. His arrival means only one thing.

One of us has been requested for the VIP room.

"Bella," he announces. "And he wants you dressed."

"Dressed how?"

"He said comfortably, whatever that means."

The door slams, and I chug my wine. After it's gone, I check my hair and throw on

a vintage tee and jeans.

"Keep the stilettos," Rosalie advises.

The VIP rooms aren't the gritty, sleazy places you see on television. Our rooms

have plush seating, plasma screens, mini-bars, and a strict no-sex rule. The most
action a guy can expect is a lap dance, and for some insane reason, they pay
ridiculous amounts of money for it. One of the dancers bank-rolled her entire college
education thanks to the VIP room, so truly, the possibilities were endless. Lap
dances aren't my favorite thing-I really don't like touching high-rollers dressed in
Armani suits-but Emmett enforces the rules, and for the most part, the men who
frequent the club obey them.

I reach the top of the stairs to find Emmett waiting outside the door.

"He paid for two hours." Two hours? "You okay?"

I'm the most inexperienced of the dancers, and Emmett's like the cuddly big

brother who'll kick a guy's ass for messing with his sister. It's oddly comforting.

"I'm good. It's just a lap dance, right?"

"Right."

I nod and push open the door, letting it close behind me.

There's a man sitting at the bar with his back turned to me. Soft music is

streaming from the speakers, and I notice it's . . . classical?

And then he turns toward me, and I find myself staring into bright green eyes.

- 9 -

"Good evening."

His voice flows through me, warming and caressing.

"Hello."

The man smiles.

"My name is Edward Cullen."

Names are personal, and in this room, I've had a thousand of them. My favorite

was Bambi, for the environmental lawyer with a brown-eye fetish.

"What's your name?"

"What do you want it to be?"

It isn't my intention to sound sexy, but his bodily reaction is immediate. His eyes

blaze, and he grips his glass a little tighter.

"Is there a rule about using real names?"

"No."

"Then I'd like to know your real name, please."

"It's Bella."

He grins.

"Of course it is. It's a pleasure to meet you, Bella."

And the way he says it, the way it rolls off his tongue, makes me shiver.

"What you do you mean, of course it is?"

"It's just very fitting."

Edward reaches for a bottle of wine. It's expensive and in no way equal to the

glass I just guzzled in the dressing room. He pours and offers me the glass. I thank
him and take a sip. It's light and fruity, and I smile, because that's my favorite kind.

- 10 -

He smiles, too.

There's a giant clock on the wall, and I notice only five minutes have passed.

"Something wrong?"

I shake my head. "No. I'm just not sure what you expect of me."

"What I expect?"

"Well, you paid for two hours. Lap dances don't usually take that long."

Edward chuckles.

"As tempting as that sounds, I don't want a lap dance. I thought we could talk."

"Talk."

I say it like it's a foreign word. As if I've never just made idle chit-chat before.

"Is that okay?" His brow creases, as if he's unsure.

"You paid a lot of money to just talk to me."

His eyes burn into mine.

"Yes, I did, and I can already tell it's going to be worth every penny."

- 11 -

Chapter 3

She's suspicious, which impresses me.

Everything about her does.

"Would you like to sit?"

Bella nods, and I grab the wine bottle before leading her over to the leather

loveseat.

Bella.

It's perfect, really. Everything about her is beautiful.

But right now, she's nervous, and that's the last thing I want her to be.

I tell her to relax as we sit down. She exhales a deep breath and crosses her legs.

Bella followed my instructions to dress comfortably, except for the heels.

"Are those comfortable?" I ask, nodding at the stilettos.

"Not particularly."

Her honesty fascinates me.

"Feel free to slip them off."

She looks uncertain, until finally, she kicks off her shoes. I watch, captivated, as

she flexes her toes, giving them the chance to breathe.

"Better?"

"Yes, thanks." She takes another sip of her wine.

"Are you nervous, Bella?"

- 12 -

"Is it that obvious?"

I smile, because yes, it's painfully obvious. I don't want her to be nervous.

"We're just talking, Bella."

Her forehead creases. "It's just that . . . there isn't usually much talking in the VIP

rooms, unless it's -"

"Talking dirty?"

A gorgeous blush crosses her cheek, and I find it ironic. After all, she was just

bare-assed in front of a room full of men.

"You don't like talking dirty?"

She shrugs. "I do it because they pay for it. It's just part of the gig."

"Do you enjoy dancing?"

Her answer is immediate. "I love to dance."

"Do you like exotic dancing?"

"It's an art. People have no idea how difficult it is."

"But you don't enjoy it."

"I don't like stripping, no."

"Then why do it?"

She laughs lightly. "How much did you just pay to spend two hours with me?"

I don't have to give her the total. She knows.

"That's why I do it, Edward."

"So it's the money."

"Yes."

- 13 -

I nod. It's the perfect answer.

"How old are you, Bella?"

"I'm twenty-four."

"I'm twenty-eight," I reply. She didn't ask, but I want her to be comfortable with

me. "Did you always want to be a dancer?"

"Yes, I wanted to be a ballerina. I was, for a while."

"What happened?"

Bella sighs softly. "Last year, I was dancing in a production of Swan Lake when I

broke my big toe."

"And a broken toe is a career-ending injury for a ballerina?"

"It ended mine." Her voice is despondent and melancholy.

"I'm sorry, Bella."

She shrugs and finishes her wine.

"What would you like to do now? For a career, I mean."

"I'd really like to finish college," she says. "My dad insisted I have a back-up plan

in case dancing didn't work out. I dropped out of school to join the Seattle Ballet
Company. I'd like to finish my degree in culinary arts and open a bakery."

She glances at the clock again, and I wish I'd asked Emmett to rip the damn thing

off the wall.

"I make you nervous, don't I?"

"A little, yes."

Of course I do. I've just asked for two hours of her time, and she's out of her

element. Normally, she'd be . . .

And then I realize I don't know.

- 14 -

"What does two hours in the VIP room typically consist of?"

She laughs. "I don't think anyone in the history of the club has ever asked for two

hours. It's usually a half-hour. Like I said, lap dances don't last that long. And when
the man realizes that Emmett enforces the no-sex rule, even in the VIP room, they
typically don't buy additional time."

"What about outside the VIP room?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are there no-sex rules outside of the VIP room?"

I sound too eager. She's going to bolt. I can feel it.

"You're asking if any of the girls provide . . . services outside of the club?"

I nod.

"I've heard rumors, yes. Some do."

"But you don't."

"No, I don't."

Her tone is final and resolute, but I've negotiated with some of the most powerful

businessmen and women in the world.

And I'm determined to close this deal.

"I have a proposition for you, Bella."

Her beautiful eyes flicker with understanding. She's an intelligent young woman.

There's no need to spell this out for her.

"It's a simple business arrangement."

"Involving what?"

"One night in my bed."

"I'm not a whore, Edward."

- 15 -

"We wouldn't be having this discussion if you were."

"Then why me? If you're so willing to pay for sex, why wouldn't you want a pro?"

It's a fair question.

"Because you're beautiful."

And unattainable.

Supposedly.

"I don't believe that's the only reason. There are plenty of beautiful women in the

world, and I'm sure any of them would be willing to fall to their knees for someone
like you."

The image of Bella on her knees makes my dick twitch.

"Name your price, Bella."

She laughs nervously and glances at the clock.

Fucking clock.

"You hate working in this club," I remind her. "You hate being a stripper. One

night with me would ensure you'd never have to climb that pole ever again. You
could go back to school and get your degree. Hell, you could bypass school
altogether and open your bakery."

"So is this what you do? Ply women with alcohol and get them to reveal their

deepest desires so that you'll have a bargaining chip when you proposition them for
sex?"

The fire in her eyes ignites something in me, and I smile.

"Is that what I've done tonight?"

"That's how it feels."

"Well, let me set your mind at ease. I've never done this before," I reply. "You are

a beautiful woman who captivates me every time she's on that stage."

- 16 -

"Is that supposed to be flattering?"

"It should be. Besides, is granting wishes such a terrible thing?"

"I'm not for sale."

"Everyone is for sale."

Bella opens her mouth to argue, but she quickly snaps it shut.

"Politicians. Lawyers. Businessmen. We all do it, Bella. And yes, you should be

flattered. I just paid Emmett for two hours of your time. Not that blonde's with the
fake boobs. Yours."

Her voice is small. "Why me?"

And in that moment, I can see this is the root of the problem. This is the factor

that could blow this entire deal.

Why her?

"Because every man in that room wants you, but they can't have you."

Her deep brown eyes find mine.

"You're right. They can't."

"I know."

"Then why are we having this conversation? What makes you think I'd ever agree

to this?"

I lift my hand, brushing it gently across her cheek. She doesn't cringe, and it gives

me hope.

"Because you haven't left the room," I whisper.

- 17 -

Chapter 4

Thank you to kroseph. :)

Chapter 4

Thirty minutes have passed. At this point, I should be back downstairs, getting

ready to head home for the night.

But no.

The bastard had to pay for two hours.

"Bella, I wish you'd say something."

I have no idea what to say. What does one say when propositioned for sex?

Especially when the proposal comes from a man whose mere proximity makes you
tremble with anticipation and desire?

I want him.

I've wanted him every night. He's sex personified-with his designer suit and

gorgeous face. Long eyelashes and chiseled jaw. Strong hands and long fingers.

I want him.

But not like this.

I can't deny I'm disappointed. It eats at me, because I was hopeful he wasn't a

jerk. That he wasn't a pervert. But what did I expect? He's in a strip club, paying big
money to watch women like me willingly take off their clothes.

I expected more out of him, which is ironic and hypocritical.

Because I should expect more of me, too.

And for the first time in a long time, I'm ashamed of what I do, because it gives

men like Edward Cullen the impression that I'd do just about anything for money.

- 18 -

And that's not true at all.

Exotic dancing is an art form. It can be beautiful and graceful, and the good

dancers are highly skilled and talented. We have bruises on our bodies because of
the pole. Bruises are not sexy, so we hide them with concealer, which we have to
reapply between sets. The money is ridiculous, so when you work in a club like
Emmett's, the bruises and aggravation are worth it, because you aren't asked to do
more than dance.

"I wish you'd just let me dance for you," I whisper.

"I wish you'd seriously consider my proposal without immediately dismissing it."

I feel vulnerable, as if I've shared too much, and he's going to hold it against me.

"I know nothing about you."

This piques his attention. "You can ask me anything."

"Anything?"

He nods.

"Why do you go to strip clubs?"

Edward smiles, arching an eyebrow. "Impressive. I was sure you'd start off by

asking me what I do for a living, or if I'm married."

I glance down at his ring finger. It's bare, which really means nothing.

"I'm not," he says quietly.

"Okay."

"And I don't go to strip clubs. I go to one club."

"Why this one?"

"Because you're here."

God, he's smooth.

- 19 -

"Why did you start coming here?"

He grins. "I was invited to a bachelor party about three weeks ago. That's when I

saw you for the first time."

I remember.

I saw him, too.

"I wanted you then."

"So you've been planning this for weeks? Getting me in this room and offering me

sex in exchange for money?"

"No, there wasn't a plan until tonight."

"Why tonight?"

"Because you finally looked into my eyes."

I'm livid.

I'm flattered.

I'm tempted.

Edward grins and refills my glass. He's so confident and cocky.

Livid wins out, and I toss my drink in his face.

- 20 -

Chapter 5

I'm drenched in thousand dollar wine.

And hard.

Interesting.

Bella leaps off the couch and walks over to the tinted window. With her back to

me, she leans her head against the wall and stares out the glass.

Using my sleeve, I wipe my face before reaching into my pocket. I send a quick

text to my driver, asking for a change of clothes. His response is immediate, and I
return the phone to its home in my jacket.

Bella doesn't know this, but I find strong women sexy as hell. I like women who

don't put up with my bullshit.

I like fireworks.

I like a challenge.

I've yet to meet my match.

I've made her uncomfortable, which wasn't my intention. I need to keep her

talking. I need to find a way to get her away from the fucking window and within
touching distance.

Touching.

My fingers itch.

I have to make her think she's in control.

"Dance for me," I whisper.

Bella turns around. "What did you say?"

- 21 -

"You'd be more comfortable if you could dance for me, wouldn't you?"

She glances at the clock. Again.

"Yes, I would, actually."

I stand and walk over to the card table that's set up in the corner of the room.

Four straight-back chairs are there, and I grab one.

I sit down, and I wait.

Bella closes her eyes, and I watch, transfixed, as she unsnaps her jeans. They slide

to the floor, revealing the same midnight blue bikini bottoms she wore on stage
tonight.

"Leave your shirt on."

"On?"

"Yes, for now."

She nods and walks over to the couch. While I slip off my damp jacket, she slides

on her stilettos. They make her legs look impossibly longer, and I lick my lips as she
walks toward me. Gone is the insecure girl. She looks confident and strong, and very
much like the woman on the stage. She walks over to the bar and grabs the remote,
changing the music on the sound system. The driving bass pounds, and it's just
enough to silence the sound of my raging heartbeat in my ears.

Bella stands within arm's reach, with her feet slightly apart. Arching her back, she

begins to draw circles with her hips. Her movements are fluid and smooth and
deliciously erotic. Her eyes are closed as she steps forward, and I spread my legs.
She positions herself over me and leans forward, placing her hands on the chair.
With her eyes still closed, she pushes her breasts toward my face, causing her t-shirt
to brush across the tip of my nose. I inhale, and I groan.

It's at this point I realize this was, quite possibly, a very bad idea.

"Take it off," I whisper roughly.

She reaches for the hem of her shirt and tosses it over her head. Bella moves her

hips, dipping and grinding, until she's just barely brushing the seat of my pants.
Instinctively, I reach for her, desperate to feel her against me, but I stop short,

- 22 -

remembering the house rules.

"You can touch me," she murmurs.

"I can?"

"If the dancer allows."

Her eyes linger on my face, and I wonder if she wants me touch her.

I swallow thickly, because I want to grab her body and grind it against my lap. But

more than that, I simply want to touch her skin. Just to see if it could possibly be as
soft as it looks.

"May I?"

And I feel like I'm seven, asking for permission.

But I am.

I'm seeking permission, because in this moment, it's suddenly very important to

me that she wants this, too.

"You may," she whispers, and it's music to my ears.

- 23 -

Chapter 6

I feel powerful.

Even as his finger slides between my breasts . . . stinging me, burning me . . . I

feel powerful. Because he asked permission, and I granted it.

The decision was mine.

I move against his lap as he cups my breasts, rolling my nipples between his

fingers.

I moan.

I grind.

He groans.

He flexes.

Edward doesn't have to know that I've dreamed of his hands, and his fingers, and

his lips. He doesn't have to know how tempted I am to say yes.

I writhe on his lap, swaying to the music, and he groans roughly. His hands grip

my hips, crushing me harder against him, and I feel him. I feel all of him, and how
eager he is for me. I cry out when he trails his nose against my throat. He breathes
me in, making my body tingle and crave and tremble. His quiet groan vibrates
against my neck as my hips grind against him.

"Does that feel good, Bella?"

I whimper, because it does. It feels amazing.

"Imagine how good it'd feel . . . without the barriers. Without the clock. This could

be us, in my bed, in those heels, and I could touch you. Really touch you. The way
I've wanted to touch you since the first time I saw your beautiful body."

- 24 -

My fingers find his hair, and I pull roughly, causing him to growl my name.

"If you'd just been a gentleman. Maybe asked me out to dinner. Asked for my

number. I wanted you to ask. I've wanted you to ask for weeks."

"I'm not a gentleman, Bella."

It's a confession.

A warning.

Our eyes lock, and I see him. I really see him. He's handsome and rich and used to

getting his way. His touch scorches me. His eyes radiate through me. He makes me
feel beautiful, sexy, and desired.

But it's not enough.

No matter how good it feels to be held by his strong hands, and no matter how

good it feels to grind against him . . .

I'm not this girl, and I never will be.

There's a knock on the door, and I leap from his lap, leaving him confused and

breathless and very, very horny.

I struggle to catch my breath as Emmett's voice rings from the other side of the

door, telling Edward he's sorry for the interruption, but his driver requested a
change of clothes be delivered immediately.

Edward growls, and I have no idea if it's because he's angry or horny.

Or both.

Probably both.

I grab my t-shirt and jeans, desperate to be dressed and out of this room. The

clock says I still have thirty minutes, but fuck it. I'll tell Emmett to dock it from my
pay.

"You could have had me for free," I tell him.

And I walk out.

- 25 -

Chapter 7

"I'm surprised to see you, Edward."

Alice sits across me, adjusting her glasses and scribbling on her legal pad.

"I'm just as surprised to be here."

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'm fucked up, Alice."

She nods. She's my therapist, so of course she's well aware of my fucked-up-ness.

If that's even a word.

"I can't sleep," I tell her.

"Perhaps work is getting stressful again?"

"Work is always stressful, Alice. You know that."

She scribbles. I fucking hate it when she scribbles.

"You're exercising? I've told you how important it is for your mental health that

you exercise."

"Yes, you've told me, and yes, I've been hitting the gym every morning."

That's a lie. I skipped today. When you don't sleep, I figure it's enough to shower,

shave, and work.

Which I'm doing.

Barely.

Alice waits for me to continue.

- 26 -

I pick at my cufflink.

She glances at her watch.

Fucking clocks.

"There's this girl."

She stops scribbling. "A girl?"

"A woman," I say, just so there's no misunderstanding.

"Is this girl what's keeping you up at night?"

"Yes."

Her interest is piqued, I can tell. It's been a long time since I've mentioned a girl

to my sister.

"And don't tell Mom, because . . . just don't. God."

"I don't tell anyone what we discuss. You know that."

"Only because you're afraid they'll take your license for counseling your brother."

"True," she acknowledges, "but I'm thankful you're seeking counseling at all, so I'll

take my chances and try to remain objective. Tell me about this girl."

"Her name is Bella."

"Beautiful."

"Yes, she is."

Alice smiles. "What's beautiful about Bella?"

So many things, and then I pick one. My favorite one.

"Her eyes."

"What color are her eyes?"

- 27 -

"Brown," I reply, "which sounds completely ordinary, right? What could be

beautiful about brown eyes?"

"You tell me."

This is why Alice is the best. None of that "how that does that make you feel?"

bullshit. She makes you talk.

"Her eyes are deep, dark brown. Like melted chocolate. And when she looks at

me, it's like..."

I'm officially a pussy.

"Go on. What's it like?"

"It's like I can't look elsewhere. I'm hypnotized."

The pencil is really moving now.

"When was the last time you talked to Bella?"

"A week ago."

"Is that when the insomnia started?"

I nod. Connecting those dots is fucking easy, right, Doc?

"What happened a week ago?"

It's at this point I have to consider how much information to divulge.

"I can't help you if you lie," Alice reminds me. It's her favorite phrase. She should

really stitch onto a pillow or something.

"She's a dancer."

My sister's face brightens. "Ballet?"

"Used to be."

"And now?"

- 28 -

"Exotic," I reply.

"She's a stripper?"

"Don't say it like that. I met her at your new husband's bachelor party."

"I asked Jasper for no details about that night, if you remember."

"And that's probably for the best."

We grin at each other.

"This girl's really under your skin."

I nod. Why the hell else would I be here? And because she's my sister, and she

knows me so well, she asks the inevitable question.

"What did you do to piss her off?"

"I offered her money in exchange for one night in my bed."

The pencil flies across the page. It'll probably need to be sharpened before we're

finished.

"And I'm assuming Bella wasn't for sale?"

"You'd assume correctly."

Alice sighs heavily and removes her glasses. She's trying to remain professional,

when what she really wants to do is throttle me.

"She told you no."

"That's right."

"Is that why you're so fascinated with her?"

My brow creases. "What do you mean?"

She tosses aside her legal pad, and suddenly, she's no longer my therapist. She's

my sister, and she's pissed.

- 29 -

"You're Edward Cullen. You are a billionaire. You can have, literally, any woman in

the world that you want. Except one. And that's the one you want."

"I really don't think that's it," I whisper. "I mean, I wanted her before she told me

no."

"Yes, but she's a stripper. There are rules, right? No touching. No sex. Even as a

kid, you hated to hear the word no. It's why you're such a powerful businessman.
Nobody says no to Edward Cullen."

"Bella did."

She laughs. "I know, and I'm thrilled. I hope she forgives you because I'd love to

meet this woman."

I roll my eyes.

"Come on, Edward. Surely you understand why she's upset?"

"Yes."

"You do?"

"Sort of," I mutter, and it's Alice's turn to roll her eyes. It's a family trait. "I mean,

she's a stripper. How was I to know she had morals?"

"Would you rather she didn't?"

"No, I like that she does," I admit. "She's strong, Alice. On stage, she's this

powerful vixen. When it was just the two of us, I saw . . . her. The real her."

"And did you like what you saw?"

"I did. Very much."

"Then why not ask her out? Why treat her like a high-class hooker?"

"Because money and business is all I know, Alice. You want something? You buy it.

If you can't buy it, you negotiate until you can buy it. Everything has a price tag."

"When you're dealing with mergers and acquisitions, then yes, everything has a

price tag. But this is not business, Edward. This is someone's body. This is

- 30 -

someone's heart. This is someone who has deep brown eyes that you think are
beautiful."

It was those brown eyes that were haunting my dreams. It wasn't so much their

beauty, but the pain I'd seen reflected in them when she'd left the room.

"I hurt her."

"And that bothers you?"

"Yes, it bothers me very much."

My sister gives me a sympathetic smile.

"Then perhaps there's hope for you yet," she replies.

- 31 -

Chapter 8

"Bella."

I close my eyes and sip my wine. It's been two weeks since Emmett's asked me to

work the VIP room, and I've been thankful. So thankful.

But all good things must come to an end.

With a sigh, I turn toward my boss.

He's holding an envelope.

"You have a visitor," Emmett says. "He didn't technically break any rules, so I

haven't kicked him out. Yet."

I hadn't told my boss the entire story, but he knows enough. Enough not to force

me to work the VIP room for two weeks.

"Do you want to see him?"

I shake my head. It feels like a lie, because of course I do.

But I can't.

"I figured as much, so that's what I told him," Emmett replies. "He's gone now, but

he asked me to give you this."

He drops the envelope on my vanity table and walks out.

I stare down at the white envelope. My name is written on the front. The

penmanship is meticulously neat, and I wonder if it's Edward's handwriting.
Probably not. I doubt many billionaires address their own envelopes.

With fumbling fingers, I open it, smoothing out the letter. There's a business card

tucked inside.

- 32 -

My eyes dance along the page.

Bella,

I wrote this letter because I knew you wouldn't agree to see me.

I want to apologize.

I need to apologize.

But I'd prefer to do it face-to-face. I think I owe you that much.

If you'll let me.

I'm looking at a piece of real estate tomorrow in the city. There's a

sidewalk café right next door. It's usually a busy place, especially at lunch
time. We wouldn't be alone. The last thing I want to do is make you more
uncomfortable, so I thought a busy restaurant would be best.

I'm including my card with the property's address. You can call, or text, or

leave me a voice mail. Or you can just meet me there. My appointment is at
one.

I know I don't deserve the chance to apologize, but I hope you'll let me.

Edward

I carefully place the letter and card back inside the envelope. After gulping the

rest of my wine, I get dressed and tell everyone goodnight. Sam, one of the
bouncers, escorts me out into the cool Seattle air, and I hail a cab.

Once I'm inside my apartment, I follow my nightly routine.

I feed my cat.

Take my shower.

Collapse into bed.

And dream of Edward Cullen.

- 33 -

Chapter 9

The café isn't nearly as crowded as I expected it to be. Maybe I'd miscalculated

the time of the lunch crowd?

She'll never agree to see me with only one other table occupied.

Not that she'd called.

Not that I'd expected her to.

But I'm holding out hope that she'll show. I'll look up, and there she'll be, with her

long hair and pretty eyes.

And she'll listen.

My leg bounces, and it's not a feeling I'm accustomed to.

I'm never nervous.

I deal with powerful and intimidating people all the time. I'm always calm. Always

prepared. Always ready to close the deal.

And somehow, this woman has brought me to my knees.

And she doesn't even realize it.

It's been two weeks, and I've done absolutely nothing but think about her.

Morning. Noon. Night.

Night is the hardest, because it's at that time I know her exact location. I know

exactly what she's doing.

More than once, I've called my driver to take me there.

But I never go.

- 34 -

"She needs time," Alice reminds me constantly, and I know it's true. If I'm to have

any chance at all, I have to give her some space.

My hand wraps around my cold cup of coffee, and I wait.

It's nearly two o'clock when my phone chirps at me, reminding me of a meeting at

my office in an hour. I toss some cash onto the table and type out a text to my driver,
letting him know I'm ready to go. I'm just about to hit send when I feel someone's
eyes on me.

I look up, and there she is.

Time stops, and all I can do is stare.

She looks tired and thin.

And so, so beautiful.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Bella whispers.

How do I tell her that she could have been ten hours late, and it wouldn't have

mattered?

"You're not."

She steps closer to the table, and I stand, pulling out a chair for her.

"Could we walk?"

Her voice trembles. She wants to walk because she's nervous.

"Sure."

I'm careful not to get too close as we walk along the sidewalk. I don't pick the

direction, but I can't help but smile when she leads us past the empty property I
inspected earlier today.

Alice says I'm crazy.

And I am.

"What do you think of this building?" I ask.

- 35 -

Bella stops in her tracks and looks over the structure. There isn't really much to

see, but it's a good size. It's the perfect size for a small business.

"It's cozy."

"Cozy?"

She nods. "It could use a coat of paint."

She's right.

"What color?"

Bella grins, and I want to laugh out loud, because I'm so happy to see her smile.

"Are we really playing this game?"

I shrug casually, as if this doesn't matter at all.

"Pick a color. Any color."

I watch her face as she scrutinizes the building.

"Sky blue," she says.

Sky blue it is.

The keys rattle in my pocket, but I don't push my luck. Instead, there's a wooden

bench just outside the building, and we sit.

"I don't apologize often, so this is extremely hard for me," I admit quietly. "That's

not to say that I shouldn't apologize more than I do. I just . . . don't."

She nods. "I imagine you don't have to."

"That doesn't mean I shouldn't. Something as simple as saying you were wrong

shouldn't be this monumental, but it is for me. Growing up, my parents apologized
by spoiling us with gifts."

My conscience screams at me, and I try to ignore the building behind me.

Baby steps.

- 36 -

"Bella, I'm sorry."

There. Just like a Band-Aid. Rip it off, and it'll only sting for a second.

"Why are you sorry?"

"I'm sorry that I offended you. I'm sorry that I hurt you."

Her brown eyes flash with determination, and I know she wants to deny that my

actions caused her an ounce of pain. But she's a good person. Truly good. And she
doesn't lie.

"You're an asshole," she says instead.

"I know, but for the first time in my life, I really don't want to be."

Bella searches my face, and I feel exposed. Vulnerable. Stripped bare of all my

bullshit, because my bullshit doesn't impress her. The designer suits. The billion
dollar empire. The private plane. The personal driver. None of it intimidates her,
because she knows it's all meaningless. It's my armor, shielding me from ever
having to feel anything.

For twenty-eight years, it worked flawlessly.

What changed?

One look into those brown eyes and the answer is obvious.

"I want to forgive you," Bella whispers, and relief courses through me. "I just need

some time, I think."

"I'm willing to wait," I reply. And then, because I'm feeling courageous, I ask the

question I've wanted answered since that night in the VIP room. "Did you mean what
you said?"

You could have had me for free. The words burn my memory and haunt my

dreams.

"Yes."

"But you didn't even know me."

- 37 -

She sighs softly and looks out across the street. "I knew how you made me feel."

"How did I make you feel?"

"Beautiful."

"Don't you always feel that way?"

Bella laughs. "Why would you assume that? Because I strip for a living?"

"Well . . ."

"Edward, there's a difference between feeling beautiful and feeling sexy."

I didn't understand, which must have been obvious by the expression on my face.

She laughed softly. "Forget it. It's really hard to explain."

"But I made you feel that way?"

"Yeah. There was just something about the way you watched me when I was on

stage. So, when you propositioned me, it just-"

"Made you feel cheap."

"Yes."

"That was never my intention."

"I believe that."

My phone chimes again. I'm tempted to cancel my three o'clock meeting, but the

guy flew in from London, and that'd probably be rude.

"Have dinner with me," I whisper.

I haven't had to ask for a date since I was eighteen years old. It's still awkward as

all hell.

And why are my palms sweaty?

"Okay," she replies.

- 38 -

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

We smile at each other.

"Tonight?" I ask, because I'm an impatient bastard.

"Sure."

"I'll pick you up."

"Okay, I'll text you my address." Suddenly, she looks unsure. "Just something

casual, okay?"

I can do casual. I think.

I'll ask Alice.

"Casual is great."

We stand and say goodbye. I go one way, and she goes the other, but I can't help

but think the direction doesn't really matter.

We're both moving forward.

And that's what's important to me.

- 39 -

Chapter 10

My hands shake as I smooth my skirt. It's pretty and pink and flows down my legs,

pooling into ruffles at the bottom.

Is this casual?

Too casual?

Not casual enough?

Gazing at myself in the mirror, I breathe in and breathe out.

I count to ten.

I count to ten again.

I decide a skirt isn't casual and change into jeans. The silk blouse still works, so

now I just need shoes. I spy a pretty pair of strappy heels, but it's my night off, so I
grab a pair of ballet flats instead.

By the time he knocks on the door, I'm trembling with nerves and anticipation.

Excitement.

I'm excited.

I've even more excited when I open the door, and he's wearing jeans.

"Hi," he says, his eyes ghosting over me. His eyes are warm and appreciative.

He makes me feel beautiful.

"Hi, Edward."

"Ready to go?"

- 40 -

I nod and follow him out, locking my door behind me. I'm not surprised to find the

sleek car waiting for us. Edward opens the back door, and I scoot inside.

"Hello," I say politely. The driver's surprised eyes find mine in the rear-view

mirror.

"Good evening, Miss Swan," he says with a smile.

Edward climbs in, brushing my leg with his.

Accidentally.

I think.

"We're ready, Marcus," Edward says to the driver, and the car heads into the city.

"You look lovely, Bella."

"Thank you."

We share a smile. This feels awkward, like we're sixteen year olds and don't know

what to do with our hands. Or our eyes.

So we just watch each other.

"You really are pretty," he says softly. "And I want you to know I understand now.

About the difference between being beautiful and sexy."

"You do?"

"My therapist explained it to me."

He smiles, and I feel I'm missing some private joke.

"You see a therapist?"

"Sometimes, when forced."

I just can't picture the powerful billionaire Edward Cullen talking to a shrink.

"She can be quite outspoken and opinionated at times."

- 41 -

"Your therapist is a woman?"

"And my sister."

I laugh. "That's not a conflict of interest at all."

He laughs, too. "Oh, it's completely unethical, but she's harder on me than any

regular therapist could ever be. I wouldn't put up with anyone else telling me what I
should do. Alice tells me what I need to hear."

I have no idea where we're headed, and I'm too fascinated with the man by my

side to ask. I haven't even glanced out the window. Not once.

"I don't even know what it is you do for a living," I admit.

"I'm CEO of Wonderland Technologies."

"Oh, the software company?"

He nods.

"Wonderland?"

"For Alice."

My heart thaws a little more. "That's kind of adorable."

"I have my moments."

The car comes to a stop, and I finally manage to look away from the beautiful man.

"You said casual," Edward says, and I can hear the anxiety in his voice. "I don't

know how you feel about gazebos and picnics, but . . ."

"I love gazebos, actually."

His entire body relaxes, and he grins. "Good. Wait here?"

"Okay."

Edward gets out of the car, and seconds later, he opens my door. He holds a

picnic basket in one hand and leads us along a cobblestone path. Nestled at the end

- 42 -

is a lighted gazebo. It's white, with ivy twisted along the columns.

"Alice suggested this place. I hope it's okay."

I love Alice, because it's perfect.

There's a table in the middle, and I wonder if it's always there or if Edward pulled

some strings. Either way, it's nice, and he places the picnic basket in the middle of it
before offering me a seat.

He frowns. "You asked for casual, so we have sandwiches and chips. And wine."

"Why are you making that face? You don't like casual?"

"I don't care what we eat. I just . . . I don't know. It's our first date, and you

deserve . . . better."

He's so nervous, and I understand why. Two weeks ago, I was grinding on his lap

with my boobs in his face. Today, we're sharing sandwiches in a lighted gazebo in
the park.

Could we be more dysfunctional?

He's trying so hard, and I don't want him to be nervous. I reach over, gently

brushing his hand with mine. I hear his sharp intake of air, and our fingers entwine.

"I love the gazebo, and I love the sandwiches."

"You do?"

"Yes."

"It's so simple, though."

"When everything up to this point has been complicated, isn't simple a good

thing?"

Edward laughs softly and squeezes my hand. "As long as you're happy."

"I am."

We talk about everything while we eat our picnic dinner. I tell him about my Dad

- 43 -

the sheriff and how my mom left us when I was just a kid. He tells me about his
surgeon father and his mom who likes to paint landscapes. We talk about places
we've been, and places we'd like to go, and by the time the basket is empty, we've
finished the bottle of wine.

Somehow, our fingers have managed to stay linked throughout the meal.

He notices it the same time I do.

"Do you play piano?"

"Yes, I do."

He slides his finger along mine, and I shiver.

"Are you cold?"

"No."

Edward grins and continues sliding his finger until it reaches my palm. I bite my

lip as he twirls his fingertip along my skin.

"We've never kissed," he says softly. "Isn't that ironic? I've seen so much of you,

and yet-"

"I know."

"And I want to . . . so fucking much. It's taking every single ounce of my

self-restraint not to kiss you right now."

I want him to kiss me. I want to feel his arms around me.

I want it too much.

I'm being so strong, and if he kisses me, I know I'll crumble.

"Please don't," I whisper.

"I won't."

His words break my heart, but I force a smile anyway.

- 44 -

Because I know it's the right thing to do.

For now.

- 45 -

Chapter 11

"Did you preheat the oven?"

"I don't know what that means."

Bella sighs as if I've asked her to work on Christmas Day. It's cute as hell.

"Edward, you have to preheat the oven. Otherwise, the cake could sink in the

center …"

She moves around my kitchen as if she designed it herself. I sit at the island and

watch, mesmerized, as she finds cake pans and special ingredients I never even
knew existed. I'd have to remember to give my housekeeper a raise for keeping it so
well-stocked.

Bella is in her element, and it's amazing to watch as she carefully stirs ingredients

into a stainless steel bowl. I've never seen anyone so happy to be making such a
mess.

Tonight is officially our seventh date.

One week.

Without one kiss.

Alice assures me this is healthy.

Smart.

Respectful.

I, on the other hand, have other choice words for it.

Hell.

On.

- 46 -

Earth.

"What are you thinking about?" Bella asks as she finishes placing the cake in the

oven.

Kissing you.

I lie, despite my endeavor to always be honest with her.

"I was thinking about a meeting I had today."

She sets the timer before joining me at the island. "A good meeting?"

"I think so," I say, pouring her a glass of wine. "I'm working with the chamber of

commerce on a small-business initiative. We're going to try to revive a part of
downtown that's been hit hard by the recession-offering low-interest loans to new
local businesses."

"That sounds interesting. But what does that have to do with your software

company?"

"Nothing at all, but I'd like to help the local economy, so I'm looking into some

investments. Besides, I admire small-business owners. They start with nothing and
build something from scratch."

She smiles. "Kind of like baking."

"Exactly like baking," I agree. "You start with a few small ingredients, and

hopefully-"

"It will rise."

Something's rising, alright.

And suddenly I'm seventeen again.

She's beautiful, smart, and funny, and I am incapable of controlling my body's

reaction to her.

"Is that why you were looking at that piece of property? The one by the sidewalk

café?"

- 47 -

"Yes, it was."

"That's a good location," Bella replies, sliding her finger along the rim of the glass.

How can a finger be so seductive?

"I think so, too, and the blue was a good color choice."

"You really painted it sky-blue?"

"I really did."

Her entire face brightens, and I want to kiss every inch of it. A blush creeps across

her cheeks, because she knows. She knows how much I want to kiss her, and it gives
me hope that maybe she wants me to kiss her, too.

When the timer sounds, Bella leaps off the chair and pulls the cake out of the oven

to cool.

"Do you like chocolate or vanilla frosting?"

"Whichever you prefer is fine with me."

"That's your answer for everything, you realize."

I grin, because it's true. She's called all the shots this week. I truly don't care what

we do or where we go, as long as we're together and she's happy.

Alice calls it some sort of breakthrough.

"I miss baking. It's so good to have a few days away from the club."

She doesn't mention the club much, and for that, I'm thankful. Even though I know

the rules are strictly enforced, the realization that strangers pay to watch her strip
makes me a little deranged.

Alice calls that a breakthrough, too, but I think it just makes me sound like a

hypocrite.

Needing to be closer, I slide off the stool and walk toward the counter, peeking

over her shoulder. She's working away, carefully frosting the delicious-looking cake.
Very gently, I slide my hand along her shoulder, brushing her hair to one side.

- 48 -

She visibly trembles, and I smile.

I love how her body responds to my slightest touch. How goosebumps erupt on

her flesh when I stand a little closer, letting my nose skim along the side of her
neck. Her quiet little moan when I let my lips briefly ghost across her skin.

Bella places the spoon on the counter and slowly turns around.

"You have a little frosting . . ." I whisper, trailing my finger along the tiny sliver of

chocolate on her cheek. I wipe it away, and she reaches for my hand, pulling my
finger close to her lips. Her tongue peeks out, licking the chocolate from my
fingertip, and I don't even try to hide my groan.

"Kiss me," she whispers.

"Forgive me."

Forgive me for being such an asshole.

Forgive me for not taking the time to realize how special you truly are.

Forgive me.

"I do."

Her words are beautiful.

She's beautiful.

"I forgive you," she murmurs, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I dip my head and softly brush my lips against hers, and my body shakes as I

struggle to hang on to a shred of my self-restraint.

"You're holding back," she whispers against my lips. "Kiss me, Edward. Please…"

Her soft plea makes me come unhinged, and we swallow each other's groans as I

roughly pull her lips to mine. My entire body comes to life, breathing her in, tasting
her tongue, feeling her body as I trap her between me and the counter. Her fingers
weave in my hair, tugging me closer, and it's heaven and hell and everything
in-between.

- 49 -

Nothing scares me.

Ever.

But the way I feel about this girl fucking terrifies me.

- 50 -

Chapter 12

I want to take a moment and thank all of you for reading. The reviews and

tweets are so lovely, and I promise I read every one of them. I don't always
get to reply, but I want you to know how much I appreciate them.

Chapter 12

It's been three nights since our first kiss. Three long, sexually frustrating nights

filled with hot kisses and tender touches. We're both dying to have sex, but
something keeps holding us back.

We want it to be special.

We want it to be right.

Most of the time, we want it to be right now, but one of us always comes to our

senses.

At this point, we're just cock-blocking each other, and I don't know whether to

laugh or cry.

But I can't cry, because I'm at work.

I hate my job. I've always hated my job, but the past few weeks have made me

realize that the money really isn't worth it anymore. When I'd moved to Seattle, I'd
moved with the dream of becoming a prima ballerina. Once that dream was
shattered, my options were limited. I could have moved back home and lived with
my dad, but his one requirement was that I go to college, and I just was just a little
too tired of having to follow his rules. Besides, I wanted to prove I could make it in
the city on my own. Sure, I could have gone the more respectable route of teaching
dance, but rent is expensive and teaching pays crap. When I saw the want-ad for
Emmett's club, I'd jumped at the chance. The fact that Emmett runs a clean
establishment always justified it in my mind, and I've never once felt ashamed for
getting the chance to do what I love to do and make a living.

But I've always wanted more.

- 51 -

I moved into a small apartment and saved every dime I could. I had a goal in

mind-my own, personal take-this-job-and-shove-it milestone-and I was so close to
hitting it.

Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I see my bakery. It's a small, cozy building,

drenched in shades of sky-blue and cream. I bake pastries and offer little samples on
the counters for my customers.

I'm so close.

With that thought in mind, I slowly make my way up to the VIP room. Emmett

escorts me to the door.

"You okay?"

I nod. I haven't had to dance in the VIP room since that night with Edward. After

promising Emmett I'm okay, I wait until he's back downstairs before taking a deep
breath and stepping inside.

The man is dark-skinned, possibly Native American. His tie hangs loose around his

neck, and there's a drink in his hand. He offers me one, but I decline. Instead, I
reach for the remote and turn on the sound system. A punishing beat floods the
room, and his eyes travel up and down my legs before he finally sits down in the
chair.

I close my eyes.

Automatic pilot.

Robotic.

I move a little closer, placing my hand along the back of his chair, and he groans.

That's when I feel his hand on my hip.

Damn it.

"You know the rules," I warn him.

They get one warning.

"You're so hot," he murmurs. His hand roams up my thigh, and I'm just about to

tell him the dance is over when someone bursts through the door.

- 52 -

"Get your fucking hands off her!"

Everything freezes.

My dancing.

His hand.

The music.

Time.

Everything stops, until I hear the crunching sound of Edward's fist against the

man's jaw.

I'm writing a new fic with the insanely talented cosmogirl7481. We will be

posting under the name CosmoSydney. The first chapter will post tonight! :)

- 53 -

Chapter 13

I miss her.

It's been over twelve hours since I've seen her, and I miss her.

Is that normal?

Alice says it can be, but I don't believe her. You miss soldiers who've gone off to

war. You miss relatives you haven't seen in years. You miss loved ones who've
passed away.

You don't miss someone you kissed just last night.

Do you?

I do.

I miss her smell. I miss her laugh. I miss the way her eyes light up when she calls

me on my bullshit.

I miss her.

She's working tonight. The club isn't something I like to think about it, because

then I have to think about what she's doing, and who she's doing it with, and while I
know the club has rules, I also know there are fuckers out there who don't give a
shit about the rules. And it's that possibility that drives me insane.

Alice says it's jealousy, but this is the one area where my sister and I disagree.

It's not jealousy.

It's rage.

Mind-numbing fury.

I don't want anyone else to see her naked.

- 54 -

I don't want anyone else to touch her.

Ever.

But I don't say it, because I know it'll just lead to a fight. Bella is headstrong and

proud, and I know voicing any sort of opinion about her job is just going to cause an
argument I can't win.

Besides, if everything goes to plan, maybe she won't have to work at the club

much longer.

I miss her.

I want to see her.

I call my driver, and twenty minutes later, I'm walking into the club. There's a

blonde on stage, and the men seem to be enjoying the show. I don't even glance in
her direction. I just sit down at the bar.

"Your usual, Mr. Cullen?"

"No, thanks, Max. I'm just waiting for Bella. I think her shift ends soon."

"Ah, she's a sweet one."

I nod and look around. "She certainly is. I guess she's in her dressing room."

"Actually, Mr. McCarty just escorted her upstairs. She'll probably be a half-hour or

so. Are you sure I can't get you something to drink while you wait?"

I look toward the stairs just as Emmett appears at the bottom. One of the dancers

grabs him by the arm, leading him backstage.

Upstairs.

Half-hour.

My hands shake and my vision blurs, because I know where she is.

And I know what that means.

And I know I'm having a heart attack. I feel it. My chest is tight and breathing is

- 55 -

impossible.

I don't make the decision. My feet just hit the floor. They weave me through the

audience and up the staircase.

There are two VIP rooms. I hear the bass streaming through one of the doors, and

I turn the knob.

It's a second in time. A mere moment.

His hand is on her thigh.

And I see red.

I growl something and, suddenly, my hands are on him. My fist connects with his

face, and the crunch is the most satisfying sound I've ever heard.

I hit and curse.

He groans and pleads.

Somewhere in the fog, I hear her voice.

Begging me to stop.

Then, suddenly, my arms are being twisted behind my back, and I'm being told to

calm the fuck down.

My vision clears.

Emmett is calling for a paramedic. The man is lying on the floor. He's bloodied

and cut and moaning.

I don't give a shit, because at least he's not touching her anymore.

Her.

She's on the floor, kneeling and crying.

Bella should never be on her knees.

She should never cry.

- 56 -

I whisper her name, and she looks up at me with her wide eyes. They are big and

teary and full of fear.

And I know I am the asshole who brought her to her knees.

Me.

Cosmogirl7481 and I began posting our new story last night! Make sure

you have CosmoSydney on alert!

For those asking, no, the new story with Cosmo does not mean I will forget

this one. I never forget my stories. :)

- 57 -

Chapter 14

Dawn arrives, and the rare Seattle sunshine streams through my blinds in the

living room. My cat leaps into my lap, and I wrap us both in my blanket, holding him
close.

He knows I need love. Cats can sense these things.

I'm exhausted.

I'm numb.

I'm all cried out.

Oh, and I'm unemployed.

One thing I'm not?

Alone.

Because Rosalie won't go away. She's finally quiet, though. Sound asleep in my

guest room.

After the police and paramedics arrived, Rosalie insisted on bringing me home. It

was, in my opinion, the perfect night to get drunk, but Rose just made me tea. She
then led me to my couch and told me to cry. To purge my system and get it all out.

All the sadness and fear and confusion.

Just cry it all out.

So that's what I did.

I can't say it worked. I can't really tell.

Right now, I just have that numb headache you get after a night of crying. The

kind where you're just physically and emotionally drained and too dazed to really

- 58 -

move from your spot.

I'm so tired, but every time I close my eyes, I see that man. I see him bloodied and

bruised, and while the EMTs promised he'd survive, and the man actually walked
out of the room all on his own, I couldn't help but feel responsible.

But he's not the only man I see when I close my eyes.

I see Edward, and I see him beating the shit out of that guy.

Rose promises she's seen far worse, and that Edward was only trying to protect

me, but none of those sentiments make me feel any better. I didn't need protecting.
It isn't the first time a guy touched me. I'm a stripper. This is the life I chose, and in
doing that, I've had to deal with a lot of guys who can't keep their hands to
themselves. But I deal with them. I handle them. And I was two seconds away from
handling it when my knight in shining armor came charging in with fists blazing.

Minutes later, Edward was in cuffs and escorted out of the VIP room.

Is he in jail?

The possibility terrifies me.

Emmett stopped by a few hours ago. He was sweet to me, but this is business.

This is why we have rules that boyfriends stay away from the club. This is why he
has to let me go. I told him I understand, and I do. This kind of publicity isn't good
for his club, and I get it. Emmett doesn't owe me anything besides a paycheck, and
he promised to mail it to me.

Honestly? I'm not all that heartbroken to be out of a job. It will slow my progress

toward my goal, and my down payment on a bakery will have to wait a while, but I
can't say I'll miss working there.

At the moment, money just doesn't seem all that important.

I know, instinctively, that Edward must still be in custody. Otherwise, he'd be

here, and I'm just not ready for him to be here.

There's a knock, and I'm reminded that the universe is a cruel bitch.

My cat leaps from the couch, and I tighten my blanket around me as I glance

through the peep hole. At first, I don't see anyone, but then I see her. She's short,

- 59 -

with black hair and glasses, and I have no idea who she is.

"Can I help you?" I ask without opening the door.

"Bella? May I come in? I'm Alice."

Alice.

Wonderland.

I fumble with the lock and open the door.

And then we stare, because I have absolutely no idea what to say to her.

"Can we talk?" Her voice is soft.

I nod and step aside, letting her in. I lock the door again before leading her over

to the couch.

"I don't have coffee or anything. I mean, I have some. I just haven't made any…"

I'm babbling.

Alice gives me a smile. "I'm fine, Bella, but thank you."

We sit, and it's uncomfortable.

"How are you?"

"How is he?"

We ask in unison, and then, because it seems so funny and I'm completely punch

drunk, I begin to giggle. Alice grins, and the awkwardness begins to fade away.

"He's home now," she says. "I bailed him out about an hour ago."

My stomach lurched. "Bail?"

"First thing this morning, yeah. The guy pressed charges-as he should have…"

My body shakes, and I tug the blanket closer.

- 60 -

"How long did Edward have to sit in jail?"

"Not long, really. After processing, the officers just kept him in a holding cell. He

was alone, which was good."

I nod. A billionaire in a jail cell with drug dealers and child molesters wouldn't

have been a good thing at all.

"He wanted to come straight here, but I wouldn't let him."

"He's home?"

"He's at my house," Alice replies. "I told him to get some sleep, but he wouldn't

shut up about wanting to see you. So we compromised. My husband is there,
standing guard, and I'm here, checking on you."

"I'm fine, Alice."

"I don't believe that for a second."

I bow my head. "Okay, I'm trying to be fine."

"I want you to know that I'm here, as a sister. My therapist hat is at my office.

However, if you need to talk, I'm more than willing to listen. You must be confused,
and probably a little frightened. My brother has a bullshit temper, and while there
were thousands of better ways for him to have handled things last night, you must
know it came from an honest, sincere place. I'm not making excuses, and I'm not
saying it was right, because it wasn't. Edward is fiercely protective of the people he
lo…cares about."

My heart hammers in my chest. She was going to say loves. I pretend I don't

notice.

"In his professional life, Edward is warm and charming. He's also manipulative

and arrogant. That's how the game is played in the corporate world, and he's good
at it. In his personal life, he's not much different. Money talks in both worlds, and
that's how Edward has lived his life. He's not a bad person. We come from a strong,
loving family with great parents. There are no demons to speak of, except that he's
closed himself off emotionally for a long time. That is, until you came along."

She's his sister, and his therapist, so I'm sure she knows how we met. I'm not

embarrassed, but I do wonder what she thinks of me. It doesn't matter, really, but

- 61 -

I'm curious.

So I ask.

"I think you are amazing, Bella. If for no other reason than because of the

powerful effect you've had on my brother. I don't want to say too much about how he
feels, but surely you realize how much he cares for you."

I stare at my hands. "I care for him, too. I'm just not sure I can deal with this level

of protectiveness. I can't worry that every time a guy looks at me is going to send
Edward into a blind rage."

"I understand that. And, I think, in time, he'll find a balance. This is just new for

him, Bella. Feeling anything is so foreign to him. But I am sorry you had to see his
temper last night. The man's okay, though. They stitched him up at the hospital and
sent him on his way."

"I'm glad he's okay."

We sit quietly for a few minutes until she finally rises to her feet.

"You look tired. I should let you rest."

I thank her for coming and follow her to the door. She turns in the doorway, giving

me a soft smile.

"As his sister, can I just say one more thing?"

"Of course."

Alice takes a deep breath. "He's so worried about you. He knows he frightened

you. He knows he fucked up last night, and he's so afraid you'll never want to speak
to him again. I've…I've never seen my brother afraid. Ever."

Her voice breaks, and I blink back my tears.

"Tell him…tell him I'm okay and that I miss him. And tell him I'll call him when I'm

ready to talk."

She smiles and reaches for me, hugging me close.

And then she's gone.

- 62 -

Chapter 15

"Mr. Cullen? We're here, sir."

I know we're here, but for some reason, I can't make my hands reach for the

handle. I hear Alice's voice in my head, reminding me not to assume the negative.
After all, at least she called. At least she's agreed to meet with me. Surely she
wouldn't have invited me here, to our lighted gazebo in the park, if she was going to
tell me to go to hell.

Right?

My driver, deciding I must need help, exits the car and walks around to my door.

Stop being a pussy, Cullen.

"Thanks, Marcus," I say as I step out into the fresh air.

"You'll text when you're ready, sir?"

"You…uh…might want to stay close by. This could be quick."

"Yes, sir," he replies with a nod. Just as I'm about to walk away, my driver

surprises me. "Mr. Cullen, I know my opinion doesn't matter, but I want you to know
that I can't blame you for beating the shit out of that guy. I would have done the
same thing for my girlfriend."

Girlfriend.

I hadn't had a girlfriend since college. That's not to say I've been a monk. Nothing

could be further from the truth. But those women were just…women. They weren't
dates. They weren't anything, and they understood that. No promises were made.
No feelings were hurt. No strings and no commitments.

Suddenly, I want the strings.

And the girl who holds mine is waiting for me at our gazebo.

- 63 -

I thank my driver and begin to walk the path slowly. I'm hesitant. I'm anxious. I'm

desperate. So fucking desperate to see her. Three days is too long. Much too long.
And if she forgives me, I'm making it my life's mission to never spend another day
without her.

I reach the gazebo, and I lift my eyes. Bella's sitting on top of our table, looking

out across the park. My eyes ghost along her profile, and I notice she's biting her lip.

She's nervous, too.

I continue to stare until she finally turns her head in my direction. Our eyes lock,

and she offers me a soft smile.

It's all the encouragement I need.

"Hi."

"Hi," she replies. She looks a little pale and very tired, but I've still never seen

anything so beautiful. "Thanks for meeting me."

"Thanks for calling me."

I climb on top of the picnic table, careful not to touch her. I have no idea how she

feels or what she's thinking, and I don't want to push my luck.

"How are you, Bella?"

She's quiet for a long time until she finally replies, "I'm miserable."

It's all I can do not to reach for her. It's painful, having this much distance

between us when she's so close.

"I'm sorry."

Bella's eyes find mine. "Are you really?"

Her tone isn't accusing. She genuinely wants to know if I'm sorry for kicking that

guy's ass.

Jacob Black-a real estate broker from Tacoma. I know this because he's filed a

lawsuit against me.

- 64 -

I knew she'd ask, because that's how she is. Straight-forward and constantly

calling me on my bullshit.

So I'm ready for the question.

"I'm sorry that I scared you," I reply. "I'm sorry that you had to see it. I'm sorry

that you lost your job because of me. But no, I'm not sorry for what I did. I'd do it
again in a heartbeat."

She doesn't seem surprised by my answer.

"Will it always be like that? Any time a guy gives me an ounce of attention. You'll

beat him up, too?"

If he touches you, yes.

I don't say it aloud. I'm not a complete idiot.

I don't have to say it. She knows.

"Everything about us is so intense," Bella says quietly. "The way we look at each

other. The way we touch. The way we kiss. The way you make me feel-"

"How do I make you feel?"

She turns her head and looks me right in the eye. She's so brave. So independent

and strong.

"Like I'm all that matters."

"You are all that matters."

I take the chance and lift my hand, gently drifting it across her cheek. She doesn't

flinch or try to move away.

"You are," I murmur, and her eyes dart to my lips. I lick my own in anticipation

before tenderly kissing the corner of her mouth. She sighs, and it's the sweetest
sound I've ever heard.

"Please don't be afraid, Bella."

"I'm not afraid of you."

- 65 -

I let my lips linger on her cheek, and my body trembles with the effort of not

covering her entire mouth with mine.

"What are you afraid of?"

I close my eyes when her hand cups my face.

"Edward, I can't live this way. I can't worry that some random guy at the

supermarket is going to get the shit beat out of him because he dares to ask for my
number."

"Does that happen a lot?"

"No, but it happens," she replies. "I can't handle this level of protectiveness. I

don't need another father. I have one. One is plenty."

"Bella, I'm always going to protect you-"

"And that's fine, if I need protecting. I didn't need protecting with that guy at the

club. Do you really think he's the first guy to ever break the rules? He only touched
my thigh, and I warned him. He didn't let go, and I was just getting ready to kick
him out when you showed up. You completely overreacted, and I'm just not sure I
can deal with this level of intensity when it comes to my security. I'll suffocate."

She closes her eyes, and I can feel her slipping through my fingers.

I can't let that happen.

I'll suffocate.

So I take a deep breath.

"I can't lose you. I love you."

I've never said those words before. Only to Alice, and probably my parents when I

was a kid. But never to a woman.

But I mean them.

I mean them.

"Please say you believe me."

- 66 -

Bella gently caresses my face. "I do believe you, but I need you to do more than

tell me. I need you to show me."

I instantly think of the sky-blue building, but I know that's not what she means.

"I'll show you."

She smiles and leans close, brushing her lips across my cheek.

"I love you, too," she whispers against my ear.

- 67 -

Chapter 16

"Close your eyes, Bella."

"The car hasn't even stopped."

Edward sighs loudly, and I give in, because he's just too excited.

I'm a little excited, too.

The past month has been full of little surprises, just like this one. He's taken my

challenge quite seriously, and every day, he "shows me" how much he loves me.

At first, it had been a struggle. While thoughtful and sweet, the daily delivery of

roses and the reservations at fancy restaurants wasn't exactly what I'd had in mind.
Edward got the hint pretty quickly-with a little help from his new therapist and his
sister-and he'd found inexpensive ways to show me how much he cared. Our gazebo
had become our favorite place in the city, and when the weather was nice, that's
where we'd have lunch. He was also working with a personal trainer at the gym, and
the strenuous exercise was really helping him work off steam and keep his temper in
check.

Of course, his desire to take care of me had led to one big argument, and that was

when he'd offered me a temporary job with his company. I was stubborn and refused
his help, which pissed him off since he felt responsible for my unemployment.
Instead, I began teaching dance to five and six year olds at a studio in downtown
Seattle. Dance teachers are still woefully underpaid, but it's a job, and I enjoy it.

The month has been a struggle in other ways, too. Edward and I are finding it

increasingly difficult to keep our hands to ourselves. Our kisses are sweet and
tender, and while I appreciate the fact that he's holding himself back, I'm ready to
move forward.

I have a plan.

"Why are you giggling?"

- 68 -

Oops.

"I was just thinking about surprises," I tell him, careful to keep my eyes closed as

Marcus drives us through the city traffic.

Edward squeezes my hand. "I like surprising you."

"I like surprising you, too."

"Hmm. Are you keeping secrets from me?" His finger slides against my wrist, and

the thrill of his touch is like a jolt of electricity through my veins.

"Y…yes," I stutter softly.

"Is it a good secret?"

"I think it's a fantastic secret."

He lifts my hand, pressing gentle kisses along my wrist, and I shiver.

"Cold?"

"No."

My body trembles when his tongue teases my fingertip, and I'm grateful my eyes

are still closed. The visual stimulation of seeing his tongue against my skin would
cause me to climb into his lap, and that would totally ruin my surprise for later.

"Edward…"

It's a plea. To stop. To not stop. To never stop.

No wonder guys think women are confusing, because we totally are.

"I'll be good," he says.

Damn it.

"Besides, we're here. Keep your eyes closed, please?"

I nod, and I feel him move away from me. I hear a door open and close, and I know

I'm alone.

- 69 -

Well, except for the driver.

"Marcus?"

"Yes, Miss Swan?"

"How bad is it?"

"Excuse me?"

"The surprise," I explain. "I just have a feeling it's…a big one. I want to be

prepared."

I hear him laugh.

"I'm not sure you could prepare yourself, Miss Swan. It's pretty epic."

I sigh. "I was afraid of that."

"Don't be afraid, Miss Swan. He's very generous. It takes some getting used to,

doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"I understand. Last year, my wife was diagnosed with cancer."

"Oh, Marcus…"

"It's okay. We caught it early, but the doctor still suggested chemo, just to be sure.

Mr. Cullen found us the best cancer specialist in the Pacific Northwest and paid for
every treatment, every prescription, and every doctor bill. It was very hard for me to
accept his help, and if it'd been for me, I probably wouldn't have. But it was for my
wife. I love my wife."

I'm close to tears. "Of course you do."

"He's a good man, Miss Swan. Don't ever doubt that."

Suddenly, my door opens.

"Bella, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"

- 70 -

I must have been closer to tears than I thought.

"Just talking with Marcus," I reply, wiping away my tears. "Can I open my eyes?"

"Not yet. Give me your hand."

Warmth flows through me as I place my hand in his. He helps me out of the car. I

hear voices and cars and buses, and I assume we're still in the city.

"Let's sit," Edward says, and he pulls us down. "You can open your eyes."

I do, and I glance around. It looks familiar, and then I realize we're just down the

street from the sidewalk café.

"Don't turn around," Edward murmurs. "I need to say something first."

And then I remember this bench, and the building behind us. It was the piece of

real estate Edward inspected the day we met at the café.

"You brought me to see your sky-blue building?" I ask with an excited grin.

"Close. I brought you to see your sky-blue building."

I gasp and jump to my feet. I turn and look, and there it is. It's sky-blue and cream

and as cute as I imagined it would be.

"Mine?"

Edward is watching me closely. "Yours."

"I….I don't understand."

"For your bakery."

My bakery.

He bought me a building.

For my bakery.

Suddenly, the daily delivery of roses and the fancy restaurants don't seem so

extravagant after all.

- 71 -

Chapter 17

She's speechless.

I have no idea if that's good.

Or bad.

It's probably bad, because she hates when I spend money on her.

Her gaze is wide as she looks at the building.

Sky-blue and cream

It's her dream come true, and I made it happen.

I swallow the bubble of anxiety that's clenching my throat.

"Sweetheart?"

Bella turns her head toward me. Her expression is one of complete and utter

surprise, which is the perfect reaction, obviously. But there's something else, and
it's something I never want to see.

Tears.

She's in tears.

They roll down her cheeks, and I can't stand it. I pull her into my arms and gently

wipe them away.

"I know you're going to say it's too much, but it's not. It's all you've ever wanted,

and I want to help you make your dreams a reality. It's just a building, Bella. It's just
walls and shelves and a long glass counter."

"Don't do that," she says softly. "Don't pretend this isn't the most amazing thing

ever."

- 72 -

I smile, and the knot in my stomach begins to relax. "You think it's the most

amazing thing ever?"

I wrap my arms around her. She lays her head back against my shoulder as we

gaze at the building.

"Almost," she says.

I chuckle and nuzzle her neck. "Oh, I see. There's something better?"

"Yes."

She turns in my arms and places her hand against my rapidly beating heart. "Of

all the gifts, this one is the best."

We kiss tenderly. And I'm ecstatic, because I know she's going to accept it. She's

accepted me-all of me. I wish I deserved her, but I know I don't. No man ever could.

"Can we see inside?" she asks, and I hear the delighted tremble of her voice.

"Of course."

I fish the keys out of my pocket and place them in her palm.

"It's the big silver one," I tell her.

Her excited fingers fumble with the lock, but it finally cooperates, and we walk

inside. There really isn't much to see. I wasn't kidding when I said it was just walls
and shelves.

"We haven't done much," I say as we walk toward the glass counter. "I wanted

your input. I didn't know if you wanted tables or booths or just…"

She isn't listening. She's just looking around, sliding her hand along the glass

countertop. She's making plans. The wheels are turning, and it makes me smile.

"It's perfect," she finally says. Her voice is soft and low and just completely awed.

"Yeah?"

Bella nods. "Thank you seems...so inadequate."

- 73 -

"Just the fact that you're accepting it without a fight is all the thanks I need."

She reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze.

"I've been saving for a down payment on a space. I didn't have a particular place

in mind. I didn't dare look. I didn't want to get my hopes up, you know?"

"Is this okay? I mean, did you want something bigger? Maybe something on the

other side of town?"

She shakes her head. "No, Edward. This is perfect. Thank you."

I pull her into my arms and hug her close.

"I can't believe you aren't fighting me on this. I was sure I'd have to give you my

speech."

She giggles. "You prepared a speech?"

"Yeah, just a short one. It was basically just me on my knees, telling you how much

I love you."

Bella tilts her head, looking up into my eyes.

"I love you, too."

I smooth the hair away from her face before kissing her softly.

"And I love my bakery."

"I'm so glad, baby."

Her eyes soften. She loves when I call her that.

"Will you take me home, Edward?"

I can't deny I'm surprised.

"Home? Don't you want to look around some more?

Her hand drifts along my chest and down toward my navel. It leaves me

breathless. And aching. All I do is ache for her, but I'm trying to be good. I'm trying

- 74 -

to take it slow. I'm trying to let her lead.

"I want to come back tomorrow, but right now…right now, I want you to take me

home with you. I have this overwhelming urge to show you how much I love my
bakery…and you."

She takes my hand, and I get my wish.

She leads.

And I follow.

- 75 -

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

I stare at myself in the full-length mirror. This black nightie leaves nothing to the

imagination, and while I've danced in far less, I can't deny that, in this moment, I've
never felt so naked.

Exposed.

Bare.

He loves me.

I know it.

I feel it.

And I love him.

I've wanted this for so long. My attraction to Edward has called to me on a basic,

elemental level. Animalistic and raw.

But now…

It's so much more.

He owns every part of me.

My heart.

My soul.

And tonight, he'll own my body, and I'll have nothing left to give. He'll have it all,

every last piece of me.

It's amazing how much that doesn't scare me.

I step out of the master bath and into his bedroom. He's sitting in a chair, just as I

- 76 -

requested. Music streams from his iPod.

And he's naked.

Just as I requested.

My eyes ghost over his body. He's muscular and lean, and I can't wait to explore

every inch of him.

It might just take all night.

And most of tomorrow.

Edward's fiery eyes meet mine, and then his appreciative gaze travels over me.

Warming me. Heating me. Burning me.

"God, Bella…"

I let my hips sway to the music as I make my way over to him. His hands reach for

me, and I let him pull me closer.

"Just so there's no misunderstanding," I say softly, "I was always planning to rock

your world tonight. This isn't about showing my appreciation for my new bakery."

Edward grins, running his hands beneath my gown and along the curve of my ass.

"You've already rocked my world. This is just a very, very happy bonus." He gently

trails his finger along the lace. "And I love this. You're the sexiest thing I've ever
seen. But it's got to go."

"But I wanted to dance for you. Strip for you."

"As much as I'd love to see you do that, I just…I just can't let you, Bella. Not our

first time, anyway. Maybe another night. Definitely another night. But for tonight, I
don't want any reminders of our past. Is that okay? Do you understand why?"

I do. I've danced and stripped for thousands of men. He needs to feel special, and

so do I.

"Yes, I do."

- 77 -

His voice is a soft plea. "Come to my bed."

Nodding, I pull him by the hand and turn around. Instantly, his face is buried

against my neck, and I'm so thankful the bed is merely inches away. Edward lifts my
gown over my head, and I crawl onto his blanket, laying across his bed.

"What about the heels?" I say, wiggling my stiletto in the air. "Do those need to go,

too?"

His hungry gaze travels up my leg.

"Those can stay," he murmurs roughly.

Edward's hand rubs my calf, up along my knee, and I squirm. I'm a livewire,

desperately craving every caress as his fingers inch closer to my thigh. He lays
beside me, his eyes taking in every curve. Every blemish.

"Please touch me," I beg.

And then he does. It's just a gentle brush of his finger against my entrance, but it's

enough to make me whimper. He does it again, and again, and on the third stroke,
he slips it slowly inside. Edward's mouth convers mine, swallowing my moan.

"I've dreamed of this." His voice is rough. "Seeing your skin against my sheets.

Your hair against my pillow. Feeling how wet you are. So wet, baby."

Desperate to touch him, too, I reach between us, and he grunts as I wrap my hand

around him.

"Do you want to come this way?" he whispers against my mouth. "With just our

hands?"

"No, I want you to come inside me."

My words make him groan, and he flips over onto his back, pulling me over him,

begging me to straddle his hips. His hands caress my breasts…pulling, tugging,
caressing, and I close my eyes, letting the sensation wash over me. I can feel him
beneath me…twitching and hard, and I can't resist the urge to grind against his lap.

"Fuck, Bella…"

His hands latch onto my hips as I move against him.

- 78 -

"Condom?"

He reaches toward his nightstand and produces a foil wrapper. I feel his eyes on

me as I slide the latex along the length of him.

"I love you," I tell him.

"I love you so much, baby."

With our eyes completely fixed on one another, I straddle him once again. With his

hands guiding me, and my hand guiding him, I slowly lower myself onto him. He
groans and arches, and I cry out, because in that one quick thrust, he's so deep, and
it feels so, so good.

He rises, and suddenly, we're nose-to-nose. His hands slide along my ass, jerking

me toward him as I ride him.

I ride him hard.

I've never felt so unbridled. So wild. And he loves it. I know he loves it, because

the look in his eyes is ravenous. Hungry. Desperate.

And loving.

So loving.

His arms tighten around me as I cry out, my orgasm rocking me to my core. His

movements become frantic, and he calls my name, burying his face in my neck as he
explodes. We're shaking and breathless as we cling to each other, but in that
moment, a peaceful truth comes crashing over me.

He's the one.

The One.

That mythical, perfect complement to your soul that all little girls dream about.

Edward is mine.

"Bella, Bella, Bella," he whispers against my skin. "My Bella."

And I am his.

- 79 -

Epilogue

My wife's long brown hair is in a ponytail, and it bounces as she talks to her

smiling customers. She's poetry in motion . . . graceful and gorgeous as she moves
from one end of the glass counter to the other, offering samples of desserts to the
little kids.

She bends, tilting her head as she reaches for a pastry out of the glass case. My

eyes linger over her…along her lovely neck and down the length of her delectable
body until my eyes land on her stomach. It's protruding and beautiful, and while she
complains that she may never again have the flat and toned tummy of a dancer, I
know she doesn't truly care.

Neither do I.

Bella is, and will forever be, the most beautiful thing in my world.

I've always heard that the glow of impending motherhood is an incredible thing,

but I still find myself completely in awe of the fact that she's beautiful and radiant
and carrying our child.

I've had eight months to get used to the idea, and I'm still awe-struck every time I

see her.

I sit at my favorite table and watch as she works. She's sweet to her customers

and in love with her bakery. The neighborhood had been in desperate need of a
dessert shop, and Cullen's Confections was an immediate success when it opened
nearly two years ago. While she is owner and CEO, I've been allowed to remain a
silent partner, helping her with the business aspects while she handles the
day-to-day operations of the bakery. She now has a staff of six, and I've never seen
people more in love with their jobs. Bella is an amazing boss-a perfect blend of firm
and compassionate-and her employees love her.

The customers finally clear out, and she sighs tiredly as she tightens her ponytail.

The doctor says she won't be able to work much longer. Secretly, I'm thrilled. She's
on her feet way too much, and I worry.

- 80 -

I always worry.

"Why are you frowning?"

I'm so consumed with my endless worry that I don't even realize she's standing

beside my chair. Smiling up at her, I tug her into my lap and wrap my arms around
her. I nuzzle her cheek, and she sighs happily.

"You work too hard, baby."

"Edward, I'm fine."

I bury my face against her neck, letting her scent soothe me.

"I thought you had meetings all day," she says softly.

"Three were rescheduled."

"That's good. You work too hard, too."

"But I'm not carrying precious cargo."

We smile, and I kiss her tenderly.

"I love to watch you work."

She giggles. "Old habits die hard, huh?"

We don't often talk about the club, but sometimes, it manages to make its way into

conversation.

Her fingers slide along the back of neck, playing with my hair. "Edward, did you

ever imagine we'd end up here?"

"Desperately in love with my wife and about to become a father? No, I never

dreamed it was possible."

"But you're happy?"

She doesn't typically need this kind of reassurance, but today, the mother of my

child needs to hear these things, so I say them.

- 81 -

"You make me so happy, sweetheart. Never doubt it."

She bursts into tears, and I hold her tight.

Alice promises it's just the hormones.

I pray she's right.

"You make me happy, too," she says through her quiet sniffles. Bella lays her head

on my shoulder. "I'm sorry. I just feel…gross and fat and so-not-pretty."

"You are so, so pretty," I promise her. "My dream come true. And it won't be long

until our baby girl is here, and all of this will be worth it."

She smiles. "It's already worth it. But yeah, it will be such a relief to finally have

her with us."

"Just a few weeks to go, baby."

"I know."

The door chimes, and a family of four walk into the bakery. Bella kisses me before

climbing out of my lap. She's all smiles once again as she greets the parents and
offers samples to the kids.

She's in her element, and despite her aching feet and crazy hormones, I know

she's happy.

I know she is.

Sometimes, I think about the sequence of events that brought us here. And, I think

about the club, and how, in the end, it left us both stripped bare.

Exposed.

Vulnerable.

Defenseless.

Words that seem so frightening.

But they aren't.

- 82 -

Not really.

Not when your beautiful wife can still look at you from across the room, and when

your eyes lock, you're still paralyzed. But this time, you aren't just mesmerized by
her beautiful body.

You know her heart.

You know her soul.

And she owns you, absolutely and completely.

~The End~

Thank you for reading! This started out as a way to relieve some stress,

and it worked! But now, it's time to dive headfirst into my second novel of
original fiction and stay there for a while. I will be continuing "Between the
Covers" with cosmogirl7481 under the name CosmoSydney. Make sure to
put us on alert if you're interested. :)

Many of you have asked about my novel. I've put some links on my profile

here, so that you can keep track of me and my crazy journey. As always,
Twitter and the Sydney Logan website are the best ways to keep track of me.
Thank you for being so supportive!

Love you all!

XXOO

Sydney

- 83 -

Document Outline

Title Page
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
Summary
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Epilogue

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