Picking up the Pieces

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"You," he choked out. "I just need to feel something other than sadness." He cupped my face, staring into my eyes. "Please, Bella? Please?" I nodded and kissed him. He crashed his lips against mine, lifting me easily. My legs wrapped around his trim waist. Our mouths moved feverishly together and I was impaled onto his length, filling me completely. Our love making was fast, frenetic and passionate. We both were grieving the loss of Esme. I was giving Edward myself so he could not feel sadness. He was willingly taking it, his mouth moving roughly against mine. He grunted as he came inside me. I clung to him as his thrusts slowed down, pinning me to the bathroom wall. His hands were on my thighs as he panted heavily. "I'm sorry, love. Was I too rough on you?"

He guided us down, caressing his hands over my body. He frowned, seeing some invisible mark on my arm. "Edward, I'm okay, baby," I said.

"I was too rough, sweetness," he muttered, fat tears falling onto his cheeks and mixing in with the water from our shower. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Edward, don't apologize," I whispered, brushing his wet hair off his forehead. "Don't ... I'm okay. We're okay." He stared at me, his fingers tracing along my face, down my neck and my body. He pressed his palm above my heart, sighing when he felt my heartbeat. "I'm here for you, Edward. I love you."

"I love you, too," he whispered, his face smoothing out. "I love you, too." His hands continued their trek over my body as the water cooled. We stood up and he carefully washed my hair, his touch careful, reverent. When we were all clean, and a little cold, Edward wrapped me in a fluffy towel before putting one around his waist. He picked up my brush, running it through my hair. I opened my mouth to say that I could brush my own hair, but he shook his head. "Let me, please?"

"Okay," I nodded as he took care of me. When my hair was knot-free, he slid his arms around my waist. "Talk to me, Chief. What is it?"

"I feel bad that I hurt you, sweetness," he whispered, his fingers tracing along my collarbones. Nestled between them was the pendant that my children gave me for our wedding. "I never wanted to hurt you, Bella."

"Edward, I think that know better than anyone what you're feeling," I said, turning around in his arms and hopping up onto the counter. I adjusted my towel and traced his tattoo. "I get it."

"I've never lost someone like this, Bella. I mean, my grandparents are both gone, but I was too young to remember their deaths," Edward muttered.

"How old?" I asked.

"My dad's parents were dead before I was born and Mom's parents died when I was four and five, respectively," he replied, his nose wrinkled. "My dad's parents died from dementia. Within hours of each other, they died, unable to be without the other. My mom's mom died when I was four from a heart attack. Grandpa had a stroke about six months after that, living in a nursing home until he passed away in his sleep a year to the day to my grandmother's death. Other than the loss of my baby sister, which I didn't understand at the time, I've lost ..."

"Edward," I whispered. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could take this pain away."

"You're helping, sweetness," Edward muttered, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to mine. "Your presence means so much to me. You love me. You loved my mom. You adore our children. You're so strong, Bella. If I had an ounce of your strength ..."

"You're stronger than you give yourself credit, Edward," I said, tangling my hands into his damp hair. "Your strength helped me when I was at my lowest." Leaning forward, I brushed my lips over his. "Come on, Chief. The next couple of days are going to be long. Let's get some rest. I love you, Edward. I always will."

"I love you, too, sweetness," he sighed, caressing my arms. He carefully picked me up and carried me to the bedroom. We got ready for bed, opening the door and curled up in the bed. Edward's head was buried between my breasts. I heard him sigh contentedly. "You're here. I'm not alone."