Shaving 101

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Edward knew his tone would be defensive, but continued anyway. "Shaving, what else does it look like?" Keeping his eyes on the floor instead of on Bella's ass, he grabbed the items he dropped. He hadn't expected to find her dressed in only a pair of minuscule underwear when he came to check on her.

"What for?" She was still hissing at him.

What had he done now? Earlier, after returning from the bathroom, he saw the look in her eyes. The hurt from his quick departure after he fucked her against the door was so damn evident. He knew he hadn't handled it right, but in his defense, he was new to all this. He hadn't had sex in over five years. Even then, he didn't do the whole friends with benefits thing. He had girlfriends, not hookups.

For a brief moment, as he stroked deep inside her, he realized he never wanted to let her go. It scared the hell out of him, considering he had little choice in the matter. She'd leave him when she figured out how much of a damn mess he was and there could be no future. Despite that fear, there was an underlying need to keep her with him. His protective instinct wasn't the only thing that drove him. It was more.

When he slid out of her, he saw the bruises that his too hard of a hold formed on her ivory skin. His mouth and teeth had marked her neck and it felt like a claim. One he hadn't intended to make, but he liked it. He loved seeing his mark on her, and the evidence of what they'd done all over her. The problem was, he wasn't sure she felt the same way. In an attempt to give her and himself some breathing room, he hurt her.

Her question about shaving made him squirm. His answer would make it obvious that he cared too much. He loathed the idea of lying since he'd have to eventually. Maybe he could at least attempt to stall the truth. He wanted to deliver his next words in a not so nice tone, when another thought occurred to him. "Does the idea of my scar disgust you?"

Her eyes widened, but narrowed within a split second. Hands on her hips, the same ones he bruised as he fucked her hard and fast, she gave him a lethal glare. Impressed, he found it difficult to keep from smiling. Her anger never lasted long and it always made him hard.

"I couldn't care less about your scars," she said, clearly frustrated—not that he blamed her. He should have felt relaxed after coming three times. He was wrong. As he watched her hands circle around as she spoke, he knew his frustrations would never cease as long as she was present. "For the love of God, Edward, stop staring at my breasts and look at me." He did, having no idea what she was going on about, but it was obvious he should know. She let out another indicator of her ire, followed by a cute foot stomp. "Why are you shaving? Is it for me?"

He wanted to tell her fuck no, but he chose instead to go with honesty rather than defense that time around. "Well yeah, your skin is all raw from my beard, and if you want further attention between those sweet, sexy thighs of yours, I have to shave."

Edward thought she wasn't listening, appearing dazed. A tiny shift of her shoulders drew his eyes lower. She was clenching her thighs, searching for friction, as if what he said turned her on. He cocked an eyebrow and waited for some kind of response.

"But I like your beard." She was pouting. "I like how the slight burn reminds me of where you've been." Her hand slipped down her stomach, the tips of her fingers skimming the waistband of her lace boxers.

How a conversation about him shaving turned to foreplay, he had no idea. There was no way he would stand there listening to her talk in such a way and do nothing about it. "Come here," he said, his voice lower than before. "Turn off the stove first, Bella."

She did, almost blindly and automatic, as if she'd been in his kitchen countless times. As if she belonged there. He shook away that dangerous thought and watched her walk toward him. The sway of her hips, her bare breasts, and toned stomach had his hand itching to grab hold and not let go again.

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