Chapter Text
Hours later, everything was hushed and quiet. The world in a kind of deep stillness that only existed in the middle of the night, when time seemed to loosen its grip and everything felt softer, hazier. The city beyond the window had gone mostly dark except for a few scattered lights blinking on distant rooftops. The air conditioning hummed low and steady, stirring the curtains just enough to ripple the faint streetlight glow across the carpet.
The suite smelled like hotel linen and soap from the shower, that faintly sterile kind of clean that never quite masked the trace of him. Underneath it lingered Edward’s scent, warm and impossible, honey and lilac and something like sunlight on skin. It clung to the sheets, to the air, to her.
Their clothes still lay in a trail from the door to the bed, the room half-lit by the bathroom vanity light that hadn’t been turned off. It cast everything in a soft, amber wash: the tangled sheets, the curve of their bodies lying together, the slow rise and fall of their breathing.
Bella stirred against the pillow, drifting between sleep and the edge of waking. The air was still heavy with the afterglow of laughter and whispered confessions. Every inch of the bed was warm and cozy.
Edward pressed closer instinctively when she shifted. His chest was molded against her back, the steady thrum of his heartbeat syncing with hers. His arm slid over her waist, fingertips brushing beneath the sheet, then dipping lower over her stomach with a touch so familiar it felt like breathing, even as it left fire in its wake.
Then came the light, deliberate grind of his hips against hers from behind.
She made a soft, half-conscious, breathy sound, and he exhaled sharply like it undid him completely. She felt his breath skim the top of her shoulder, warm and uneven, and then the faintest brush of his lips against her skin, rough and tender all at once, when he whispered her name.
“Bella…”
The word seemed to linger in the air, quiet and reverent, swallowed up by the hush of the room.
His voice was rough. Sleep-rasped. Full of that raw, aching need that only ever surfaced at that late hour between sleeping and waking. His mouth found the place where her shoulder met her throat, his lips warm and soft, lingering there until heat pooled low in her belly. He kissed up her skin slowly - press, drag, breathe - like he was tasting the edges of a dream he didn’t want to wake from. His teeth lightly grazed her pulse point before he soothed the spot with another long, deliberate kiss.
His hand slid up her side, fingers spreading wide over her ribs before curving around to her breast. He cupped her fully, his thumb stroking slow circles over the nipple until she gasped. He shifted just enough to bury his face against the slope of her neck, inhaling like he couldn't get enough, then let his lips wander lower, brushing over the delicate skin above her collarbone.
His other hand coasted down her thigh, coaxing her hips back toward him. The low, needy sound he made in his throat vibrated through his chest into her back, and she could feel the weight of him, hard and ready, pressed perfectly against the curve of lower back.
She turned her head just enough to see his face in the low light.
He was watching her, eyes heavy and shadowed, hair askew, lips parted as if starved for her.
“You okay?” she murmured, fingertips tracing the line of his arm.
He nodded, dipping his head to press another kiss to her shoulder.
“Just... need you.”
There was a rough, frayed edge to his voice that lit every nerve within her. She shifted onto her back, the sheets slipping down their bodies. He followed, settling between her legs like he belonged there. One hand cupped her thigh, the other guided the thick line of himself against her. He groaned when he found her wet and ready for him.
“God,” he whispered, mouth dragging along her throat. “You feel so fucking good.”
When he pushed inside, unhurried and deep, it froze the breath in her lungs. Her hands found his shoulders, his back, his jaw, anchoring herself to the weight of him over her, the heat between them, the shiver of restraint in his body.
His movements started slow, measured, but they didn’t last. Sleepy restraint gave way to hunger, need burning through every careful touch. His hand slid to the back of her neck, thumb sweeping her jaw in a silent promise.
“I’m yours,” he breathed, voice raw and desperate against her lips.
It sent a shiver down her spine.
“Still,” he added, rougher now. “Again. Always. You know that?”
Bella moaned, nodding against his lips as the words slid into her like blades.
“Say it,” he pleaded, voice breaking.
“You’re mine, Edward.”
Something in him snapped. His groan shuddered against her skin, hips driving harder, deeper. Her name spilled from his mouth like a prayer, like it was the only thing that had kept him from coming apart for fifteen years.
His mouth moved down her jaw, her throat, over her chest. He was everywhere, equal parts frantic and tender, like he was trying to reclaim every inch of her.
“You have no idea,” he murmured, voice thick, “how much I missed this. Missed you.”
She dragged his face back up, kissing him like she could stitch the years back together with her mouth.
“I missed it, too,” she whispered. “Missed you. So much.”
He shuddered, pressing even closer, deeper, moving like he was trying to burn the feeling into both of them. She lifted to meet every thrust, holding him like if she let go, it all might vanish.
“I used to lie awake thinking about this,” she gasped. “How it felt. How you felt. Wishing I could go back.”
He whimpered, wrecked and helpless.
“We’re here now.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised against his cheek.
“Neither am I,” he said. And she believed him.
They fell apart together. Slower this time. Deeper. A shared unraveling that felt like a second chance sewn directly into skin. He spilled into her with her name caught in his throat, body trembling over hers, face buried in the crook of her neck.
Afterwards, they barely moved; just enough to breathe, to press lazy kisses to her jaw and stroke his hair as they drifted back to earth.
He curled around her, holding her close in the quiet stillness. His nose brushed her cheek, breath soft and steady. Under the sheet, he found her hand, their fingers lacing together naturally, as if they’d always belonged that way.
Bella didn't remember falling asleep. Only the warmth of him against her. The sound of his breath. The slow drag of his fingertips on her skin. At some point in the night, she had turned to face him. She woke curled against his chest, one leg hooked loosely over his, her palm resting over where his heartbeat thumped, slow, steady, unfaltering.
The sky outside the window was just beginning to lighten into that muted gray-blue before sunrise.
Her eyes moved over his face slowly. Taking it all in. His eyelashes, dark against his cheeks. His mouth slackened with sleep. The faint crease between his brows was even deeper now, even when he was dreaming. His hand was still tangled in her hair, fingers laced in the tresses at the base of her skull.
She stayed like that for a long time. Still. Silent. Just watching, just memorizing.
At length, his eyes fluttered open. He saw her and smiled, drowsy and boyish, like he’d woken into a wish he’d never dared to make out loud.
“Morning,” he murmured, voice scratchy with sleep.
“Hi,” she whispered back.
His fingers tightened slightly in her hair.
“Thought maybe I dreamed this.”
“Me too.”
They lay there, gazing at each other in the quiet, dazed, almost shy. The connection between them felt simultaneously fragile and new, but also familiar, remembered and rediscovered. He watched her, searching her face, and something shifted in his expression. A shadow letting go, leaving him clearer, more alert.
His thumb traced the side of her neck. He hesitated for one breath before he spoke.
“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” he said softly, words tentative and vulnerable. “I don’t want it to be casual, either. I mean, I get it if that’s all you want, and I’ll take it if that’s all I can have. I just…”
He paused for a long beat, searching for the right words. He exhaled slowly.
“I want more. I’ve always wanted more.”
Her heart skipped a beat. A sweet and dizzying ache bloomed behind her ribs.
“I do, too,” she breathed.
And something deep in his eyes broke open, hope and disbelief crashing across his features like a wave he wasn’t ready for.
“I’ve never not wanted you,” he said, voice husky. “Even when we ended things. It was never because I didn’t love you or want you.”
Bella nodded, because she knew. She’d had a full-ride scholarship to a college in another state. He had just signed his first real contract with his band. They had both been standing at a fork in the road. No bad blood, no betrayal, just pulled apart by circumstance.
She touched his face, swept her thumb along the curve of his cheekbone.
“Me too,” she murmured. “It took me a long, long time to move on. Honestly, I don’t think I ever did.”
Then, she rose up slowly, sliding over him, then straddling his waist beneath the blankets. The sheet slipped down her back, pooling around her hips.
His eyes followed the movement, darkening with every breath. His hands came to rest on her thighs, warm and gentle, thumbs brushing back and forth across her skin like he was trying to steady himself.
She leaned down, close enough for her nose to brush his.
“I want you,” she whispered. “Not just this once. Not just for fun. You. Us.”
His breath caught sharply in his chest. His grip on her legs tightened instinctively.
“Jesus,” he muttered, looking like a man in freefall. “You’re gonna kill me.”
She smiled, leaning in until her lips barely grazed his.
“Not the worst way to go.”
Then she tilted her hips, just enough to let him feel the slick heat of her, dragging slowly against the length of him beneath her.
He groaned. Deep and broken.
She reached down, wrapped her fingers around him, hard already, thick and pulsing against her palm. He twitched at the touch, pupils going wide as she guided him to her entrance.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
She sank down slowly. Inch by inch. The stretch was delicious but still almost too much. She braced her hands on his chest, breath stumbling as he filled her completely. He let out a hoarse, desperate sound like he was barely hanging on. His hands clutched her thighs then slid to her hips, like he needed to find an anchor point to stay sane.
“God, you feel…” he shook his head, like words had failed him. “You feel unreal.”
She bottomed out with a soft gasp. Her whole body shivered. They both went still, locked together, foreheads brushing.
And then she started to move.
She rolled her hips slow and deep, her breath catching on every glide. He choked on a sound, low and ruined, and his hands slid down to her ass, guiding the rhythm with unsteady, needful precision. Not forceful. But not gentle, either.
She rode him like she’d been waiting, dreaming for fifteen years just to do this. Because she had.
Every stroke felt like a reclamation. Every moan, every shift, every bite of his lip, it was like crashing into him over and over again, undoing time with nothing but skin and want. Her head tipped back as she moved over him.
“Look at me,” he panted.
She did. And what she saw, the open, raw, wrecked look on his face nearly broke her.
He sat up slightly, his mouth crashing into hers. His arms locked around her back as he pulled her torso flush onto his like he wanted to fuse them together. The kiss was messy, heated, bruising.
She moaned into his mouth, moving faster, chasing the friction the new angle offered.
“God,” she gasped, “I’m yours. Just yours.”
“Say it again,” he hissed between his teeth.
“I’m yours,” she panted, voice breaking. “Always.”
“You’re mine.” His voice shook with emotion. “Mine.”
Then he kissed her throat, her collarbone, her shoulder, her chin, like he needed to taste every part of her, mark her with his mouth.
She met him thrust for thrust, breathing hard, hands in his hair, hips grinding down like she never wanted to stop. The peak hit her first, sharp and fast. She cried out, body tightening around him, every nerve lit with pleasure.
He followed seconds later, crushing her against him, groaning her name into her skin, body shuddering as he came hard inside her, hands gripping her like he was melding himself into place.
She collapsed onto his chest. Still joined. Still trembling. Both of them panted like they had run a marathon. His arms wound around her back. One hand tangled in her hair. The other stroked lazy lines down her ribs. He pressed a kiss to her temple, and she swore his breath bled out of him like he’d finally unlocked a door he’d been leaning against for years.
“You’re not leaving again,” he said softly. It was almost a question, but not quite.
She smiled, lips brushing the damp skin of his shoulder.
“No,” she whispered. “I’m not.”