Monday, July 16, 2012 | By: Drotuno

Coming Home Chapter 93 - Bella


Tampa... Saturday, June 19, 2010 at 8:55 A.M.

Edward and I took our time in the shower, but I was indeed very sore, so other than a few not-so-innocent touches while we lovingly washed one another, we didn't get up to any hanky-panky. Although when he pulled me back against his chest, his cock already hard against my backside, and promised me that we would have plenty of opportunities to break in his shower and bathtub before I left, it had taken all my control to not jump him right then.

"What do you want for breakfast?" I asked as I slid my shorts on over the purple bikini panties.

Edward's deep chuckle came from behind me, and I turned to look over my shoulder to find out what had him so amused. He was sitting on the end of the bed, his eyes glued to my ass.

To tease him, I bent over more to grab a T-shirt from my suitcase, making sure to wiggle said ass just for him.

"Bella, you're killing me," he groaned as I giggled. "Get dressed, sweetheart, before I forget just how sore you are." When I straightened and pulled the shirt on, he continued, "As for breakfast, I honestly have no idea what we have in the fridge. If we can't find anything, we can run out to the grocery."

Holding out my hand, I nodded and said, "Well, come on, then. For some reason, I've worked up quite an appetite."

His wicked grin told me he knew exactly what that reason was, and he was damn proud of it.

We walked down the hall quietly, since we could hear snores coming from both other bedrooms. I hadn't heard the others get back the night before, but I'd been...otherwise occupied, so I guess they'd slipped in undetected.

"Did you hear them get back?" I whispered, motioning with my thumb over my shoulder as we walked into the living room.

Edward shook his head. "Not last night. I knew they were here, though, because when I got up, I could hear someone go into the other bathroom."

Fair enough.

When we got to the kitchen, Edward took at seat on the counter, watching me as I went to the fridge. "Whatcha gonna make?"

I laughed at his eager tone. "If you have everything, I thought I'd do French toast."

His brow scrunched up, and he shrugged. "Honestly, I have no idea. Don't you need eggs and bread for that?"

Nodding, I pulled out the carton of eggs, along with the milk and butter from the refrigerator. "Normally I'd use half-and-half, but you don't have any, so milk will work."

"I can go get some," he hedged, and I could tell he really didn't want to go out if he didn't have to.

Waving him off, I shook my head. "No worries. This works fine." After setting those on the counter beside him, I asked, "Where's the bread?"

Edward pointed to the small door on the other side of the fridge, and when I opened it, I found not only a new loaf of brioche—Jasper must have gotten it, knowing I'd want to do French toast while I was here—but also some honey and salt in the little pantry.

I was in the middle of whisking everything together to soak the bread in when four sleepy people wandered in. Emmett and Rose were the only ones completely dressed, while Jasper and Alice were in boxers and T-shirts.

"We're gonna go get coffee," Rose explained. "They have black, but none of us would want that."

Emmett grumbled about having to go out this early, but Rose simply leaned up and whispered something in his ear, and he suddenly stood up straight, looking much happier.

"You so don't want to know," I said with a shake of my head, giggling at Edward's raised eyebrow. He'd been ready to ask what Rose had told Emmett, and from past experience, I knew it wasn't something any of the rest of us wanted to hear.

Turning to them, I gave her a wink. "Go on, then. French toast will be ready by the time you get back."

"Thanks, Bellsy," Emmett said happily, rubbing his stomach.

"Yeah, yeah." I grinned and turned back to Alice as Rose and Emmett headed for the front door. "What time did you guys get in last night?"

She giggled and looked up at Jasper, snuggling into his embrace. "About thirty minutes after you guys."

Oh... No wonder we hadn't heard them.

Rather than pursue that potentially embarrassing line of conversation, I changed the topic as I cut thick slices from the bread in front of me. "So what's on the agenda for today?"


Shortly after breakfast, the others disappeared into their bedrooms while Edward led me into the living room, urging me to sit down on love seat beside the keyboard.

"You know this was a totally selfish gift, right?" I asked as he settled himself on the small bench seat that had come with it.

He smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Oh really? And why would that be, Isabella?"

Even though he was clearly teasing me, I just shrugged and said unashamedly, "The few pieces you sent me weren't nearly enough. I want to hear you play, and this was the best way."

Grinning, he started with Clair de Lune, which I'd heard him play before. "I love this song," he murmured softly, looking over at me. "My mom used to play this for me before she got sick."

I curled my legs up, hugging my knees so I could use them to rest my chin as I listened to him play.

From there, he transitioned into another piece that I recognized as Mozart. For nearly half an hour, I listened to him play everything from classical to picking out melodies from contemporary pop, and even a few country songs scattered in there. At one point, he played the song I recognized as the one he'd written for his mother, and by the end, I found myself wiping away silent tears. He looked so happy and at peace, and it was a beautiful thing to watch.

When he looked up at me and started a new song, I felt my heart flip in my chest. I didn't recognize whatever the song was, and it had enough of the same feeling as his mother's that I had to assume it was one he'd composed himself.

There was an almost wistful quality to it at the beginning, and then it quickly moved into happy and light, sounding like the notes were dancing on air. It grew to a crescendo before I realized I was crying again, and this time, I didn't bother wiping them away. I was too entranced by the love I could hear coming through those notes to worry about anything else.

By the time the last note died away, I was up and out of my seat, tangling my fingers into his hair and pressing my lips to his. I'd have crawled up on his lap, but I knew the bench wasn't meant for two people. He must have known that, too, because he cursed softly against my lips and stood, scooping me into his arms. I hung on, burying my face in his neck as he carried me swiftly down the hall to the bedroom.



Post a Comment