Just A Kiss Chapter 19

We’ve been back from spring break for a week and I still can’t believe Edward showed up at my house.  He is the best ‘fuck you/thank you’ gift that Emmett has ever gotten me.  I doubt he’ll ever out-do that one.

Mother-hover number one (Renée) isn’t as bad-as a general rule-as Mother-hover number two (Renata) is.  Must be the difference in the mother-daughter, mother-son relationship.

My mom gets it.  Yes, she wants to know what’s going on in my life and with whom…that’s normal.  And…okay…sometimes she might cringe at the thought that I might actually have a hard time with something…always wanting to step in and save the day…but Aunt Rena-as I call her-man…she takes the cake.  I don’t know how many times Emmett and I have been having conversations in his living room and she will put down whatever she’s in the middle of doing just because she could only hear bits and pieces and she needs to know every detail of what we were saying.

Insert eye roll.  There’s no way Emmett should be as normal as he is or still love his mother the way he does.

I was nervous about Edward meeting Charlie.  Mainly because he likes to put on a good show.  He knows I’m no angel, him being the one to have made Emmett and I stay a night…or two…in a jail cell before, so he doesn’t even pretend to worry about me in that way.  But when it comes to my heart…he’s a fierce protector.  He’s seen me experience heartache and maybe even a little bit of heartbreak at the hands of careless boys in the past.  But I’m sure that even he can tell that this time…with Edward…well, it’s just different.  I’m different when I’m thinking about him, different when I’m talking about him, and when Dad saw us for the first time together, he saw for himself how different I am with him.  I’m sure it scared him.  Sometimes it still scares me.

I want Edward.  I need him.  I love him.

I love how he looks at me, still sometimes shy and unsure, but ever gaining confidence.  How his green eyes almost glow when he’s excited or up to something entirely wicked.  How they’re a kaleidoscope of aquas and emeralds when he’s whispering needy words and loving me in the same way.  How sometimes he clenches them to shut everything else out when he’s quickly losing control…and how sometimes I’m the one who’s making him do that.

I love how he touches me, hands rough and calloused from leather gloves and baseballs and bat grips, but also gentle and so tender that goose bumps chase the trail his fingertips leave.

I love how he makes me feel, like I’m all there is that’s good and right and beautiful in his world.

He’s fun and playful, witty and smart, beautiful and strong.  When I’m with him I want for nothing.  When I’m without him, I need everything.

I’ve been expecting every time that we’re together that our physical relationship is going to progress, like we had already said it would.  We both admitted that we’re ready.  But just like in the beginning…which seems like way more than just over a month ago…there’s something holding him back.

And I’m going to find out.

I watch the last inning of their Friday night game with Rosalie and Alice ever flanking my sides.  The Skank and bitches have decided that I’m not worth the effort, even if Edward is, and have moved on to Liam O’Connell, today’s starting pitcher.  He’s a south pawed senior with scouts drooling over him, so the draw to him is even more magnetic…at least to them.

Edward’s hair has gotten longer in the last month, the ends damp and curling around the edges of his batting helmet.  He takes some practice swings in the batter’s circle, slow and easy, stretching and rhythmic.  I’m hypnotized by the lines of his lean body. 

It doesn’t help that they’re in the pinstripes again. 

As the player in front of him belts a line drive over the second baseman’s head, Edward taps his bat on the ground to release the doughnut style weight and coolly strides forward to take his place in the batter’s box.  The opposing team’s pitcher is right handed today, so Edward goes with batting left. 

Sexy.  It’s like he can do it any damn way he wants.  Or maybe I’m just thinking he can do me any way he wants.  Shit, I need to talk to him!

The first pitch is high and inside.  He’s patient, not taking it.  The next pitch is in the dirt, allowing the runner on first to steal second base.  He reads the field as he waits for the catcher to have a little pow-wow on the mound to calm down the pitcher.  The pitcher shakes his head, shakes his head again, and then nods.  He checks his runner then zips the ball right down the middle of the plate and Edward pulls the ball, sailing it long and high to right field. 

I’m screaming and clapping, watching him round first and dart to second.  He slides into the bag, popping up at the last second as the umpire declares him safe.

He takes a second to brush off the dust of the red clay, remove his batting gloves and tuck them into his back pocket.

Dammit.  He’s just porn in pinstripes.

The next two at bats are successful and our team wins the first game of the weekend series.

Thank God!  This conversation will be much easier when he’s already happy and horny from their victory.  Add in a pair of power panties and I’m all set.

When the guys meet up with us girls after the game is over, we give them our congratulatory smooches…and they get in their victory gropes.

Some things never change…and thank the Lord for that! 

Edward and I are asked to join the others for dinner and a movie, but Edward hurriedly declines and I briefly think that maybe the conversation won’t be necessary; maybe he’s finally ready for real.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” he asks, tickling my arm with sweet tracings of dirty words as we lie facing each other on his bed.

“As ready as I’m going to be.  Should I be nervous?”

His parents are driving down for tomorrow’s double header and I’m meeting them for the first time.  But he just went through the same rite of relationship passage, so I figure I’m due after all that craziness.

“Nah.  My dad…while he’s very…stiff, I guess…in his business life, he actually has always left his business at the office when it came to something for me or Lucy.  He’ll be his casual self tomorrow, so don’t worry.”

“And your mom?” I ask, scooting closer to him and nuzzling my face into the fine hair sprinkled across his fine pecs.

“She’ll hate you immediately.  You’re the girl who’s defiling her baby boy, after all,” he teases, which earns him a love bite right over his left nipple.

That earns me a groan and a hair tug.

For the love…let the races begin!

I continue placing wet kisses across his warm, bare chest when he grunts, “She’ll love you…because I do.”

I suck on his collarbone causing his long fingers to curl into the delicate skin of my hips.

I move up his body, getting closer, feeling hotter as he runs his hands up under my loose t-shirt (that’s really his) and traces his thumbs across my hardened nipples.

“I love you, too,” I whisper into his ear.

That does it. 

He rolls us over until he’s hovering above me.

See moms…this is the correct and acceptable way to hover.

“Those words,” he whispers, rocking his thinly pajama clad hips into mine, hitting me…ung…right there.

“Those words own me.  They’re everything.”  He thrusts again, up and back and once more, and it’s so right…and so wrong. 

Too many clothes.

And it seems that he does read minds.  He kisses a tickly, scruffy trail down my breastbone, pushing up my shirt and then continuing down the middle of my belly, at first I think stopping for a moment to playfully bite, but no…to dip his tongue into my belly button, making everything below it blaze with fire.

His eyes meet mine in the soft light from the bedside lamp and I see a hunger in them that I never have before.  It’s thrilling and heady and the butterflies swarm because it’s really happening.

He drags the soft scruff of his chin back and forth along the top of my panty line, making me crazy with lust and want.

He bites the hem and pulls them down, surprising me so much I begin to giggle.

“What?” he grins, discarding my cotton bikini panties to the side...somewhere.

“Well, it tickles, number one and number two…oh!” I gasp.  Edward’s eyes still haven’t left mine but he’s between my legs and teasing the inside of my thigh…with his tongue!  And he’s close...so very close to…

“Aahh!” I squeal.  He’s bitten me but when I look down, he’s definitely not laughing as he sucks the skin between my leg and my…oohh, hey now…between his beautiful lips, marking me as his.  And I so am.

I grip the sheets, twisting them, shocked at my not-so-shy man.

“I want this,” he growls.  “I want you, Pretty…all of you.”

Before I can even respond I’m overwhelmed by the feeling of hot breath and wet lips and the vibration of a hum as he flattens his tongue against me…licking me…kissing me…there.

I feel like I should be mortified that he doing…that…there…but I’m just not.  I’m too busy being melted into the mattress by his lingual talents of which I knew absolutely nothing about.

Without my permission, my hips push forward, seeking out his tongue, more swirling, more friction, more…just fucking more!

He’s nipping and sucking and tasting and when I feel him teasing, then fingering, I die.  I die of bright star bursts behind my eyelids and curled toes and arched backs and his name on my lips and his lingering kisses where I’m overly sensitive and still throbbing.

Edward rolls to the side from between my legs, his head resting on my stomach as he draws an imaginary maze along the tops of my thighs, relaxing me further as I thread my fingers through his hair.

And as our breathing begins to even out, I realize that not only did we not actually make love like I thought we would, but we’re both about to fall asleep!  And I still have no answers!

Oh, no sir.