Chapter 1

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BPOV

Edward pulled up the long drive, more slowly than he usually would have done. That alone alerted me that something was awaiting us at the house, but even if he'd sped through the trees as normal, I don't think the large banner across the house would have surprised me.

Happy Birthday, Bella!

Edward and I had been married exactly a month ago, in the Cullens' massive yard. Since, he'd taken me on the most ridiculously extravagant honeymoon possible, traveling from London to Istanbul and everywhere in between. He wanted me to see the world; I was happy to be with him.

Truly, it had been bliss. Edward had given me the one human experience I'd wanted more than anything – and he'd given it to me every day since, sometimes several times a day. A flood of heat spread through me at the memory of what we'd done just before we left from Paris...

"I can't believe it's been a month already," I sighed, trying to force a suitcase closed. Edward tugged my hand away and zipped it with ease.

"We can come back as many times as you like," he promised, pulling me into the circle of his arms. "Europe isn't going anywhere."

"It's not exactly Europe I'll miss," I said, burrowing closer. "But I'll miss us, like this, the way we are now…I don't want that to change."

"It won't change," he said, "If you think I'll ever be able to keep my hands off you, you're mad." As if to emphasize his point, his hands slid lower, cupping my bottom. His hardened length pressed into my hips and I groaned his name.

"Even when I'm not human?" I questioned breathlessly as he guided me back to the bed. He pushed the suitcase aside and I was suddenly in its place.

"Even then." His lips brushed my collarbone, exposed in the tank top I wore. "Especially then." His hands caressed my skin. "You can't imagine the things I want to do to you."

I laughed shakily while I fumbled at the hem of his polo. "I'm not that innocent. I think I can imagine a few."

The shirt landed audibly on the floor. His strong fingers easily rent my top in two.

"Must you keep doing that?" I asked, my voice comically weak as his lips closed around my nipple.

"You don't really mind," he murmured, and I was too busy touching him to argue. The ripples of muscle under his skin distracted me completely, and he took advantage of it, deftly undoing my jeans and tugging them off, my underwear going with them. Just three weeks ago I was still embarrassed to be this exposed in this face of all his perfection. Now I was finally getting used to it – being exposed, that is. I would never be immune to his beauty.

His hands were everywhere at once – my breasts, my hips, my thighs. I struggled to breathe with each slow, cool caress. He made my skin tingle. I fought to find enough presence of mind to move my hands to his waist where his jeans rode low on his hips. I traced the smooth lines of his exposed pelvic bone, excited at the prospect of where that line led. His response was a low purr in my ear that only served to make me want him more.

His lips grazed my neck and then reached my mouth. The taste of him under my tongue was enough to keep me from noticing when he shed his pants. I only noticed when I felt his naked hardness pressing against me. I gasped at the shock.

"Sorry," he murmured, backing away a fraction of an inch.

"Don't be," was my reply as I pressed my body into his once more. "I liked it."

He moaned quietly, holding me to him, allowing the head of his erection to brush tantalizingly against my center.

"Edward," I sighed, wrapping my legs around his waist, "Please…"

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