Sign 9

EPOV
I know Bella is interested in me to some extent, but remembering back to when I was twenty, I sure as hell wasn't interested in playing house. I wanted casual and fun. I wanted things carefree and light.
But I can't have that with Bella today. I can't offer her casual, because when it ends, my princess will be devastated. And I can't do that to her. Never.
Besides, casual wouldn't be enough for me anymore. Not since I realized… Fuck, no, it won't happen.

*O*O*O*

"Edward."
Something hurts.
Neck. Ass. Arms. Spine. And for the love of God, my back is killing me.
Christ, the aching.
"Edward, wake up," I heard someone whisper.
I recognized it.
Groaning loudly as shit, it hurt like a son of a bitch as I stretched my arms…
Where the fuck am I?
My eyes fluttered open, and I was met by darkness as I glanced around, but one thing was certain; I was sitting on the goddamn floor.
"You awake, Edward?"
Bella.
"Uh," was what I got out. Let's try that again. "Uhm…"
Excellent.
"Let's get you off the floor, shall we?"
I nodded dumbly, still confused as fuck, but as I – somehow – scrambled to my feet, I saw that I was in Emma's room.
Again.
Fucking lord, I fell asleep next to her bed.
"What time's it?" I grumbled as I rubbed my eyes.
"Three AM."
Fucking A.
And then I remembered…
"Shit, I just left you in the music room, didn't I?" I said, feeling like a complete idiot. "I'm sorry, Bella, I didn't think I'd fall asleep-"
"Edward."
"Yes?"
"Shut up, and let's get you to bed."
There's an image…
"Um, okay," I answered lamely.
She took my hand.
I gritted my teeth together, refraining myself from begging her to… do something. But fuck me if her hand wasn't perfect in mine. Warm, soft. Small.
Goddamnit, stop!
"Come on," she whispered, tugging on my hand.
Again, I nodded dumbly, and just let her lead me out… and towards my bedroom.
"Thank you," I whispered. For everything you are…
Once outside my room, she loosened her hold on my hand, but I had to… at least…
Yes.
I dipped down… and pressed my lips against her temple.
Breathed her in.
Apples and cinnamon.
I wish I could linger.
"Goodnight, Edward," she whispered once I had let go.
With a hand on the door knob, I replied quietly.
"Sweet dreams, Bella."

*O*O*O*

Sunday was painful.
Bella and I both focused on Emma as much as possible.
And it was impossible to not think of her… of both of them interacting like daughter and…
As they played with Emma's dolls, all I could think about was how much I saw the way Emma idolizes Bella. It was there, every second. If Bella dressed her doll in purple, then Emma did the same. It went on like that, and I witnessed it all. They weren't friends. Bella wasn't Emma's babysitter.
She was her role model.
And as a dad… this is where I get protective. Of Emma. Of myself. Because what I want… it scares the shit out of me.
I retreated to my room… sat down by the piano… closed my eyes.
Played. Thought.
It wasn't playful. It wasn't light. It wasn't regular.
It shifted. Constantly as my mind worked, thinking about possibilities, outcomes… consequences. It was somber one second… shifted to frustration… to bitterness. I was pissed at one point… at her. For just… existing… for ruining my contentment. And then I faltered… because I felt her… standing in the doorway.
"You must be thinking some heavy shit."
I almost snorted. Or maybe I did.
Yeah, you could say that there's some heavy shit going on, Bella.
"Where's Emma?" I asked, not wanting to tell her why my playing was angry.
"Watching a movie."
Her voice didn't come from the doorway this time. It was behind me.
And my playing changed. Yet again, I doubted she could feel it. That she could hear it. But if she could… she would know how fucked up I am because of her. How messed up I am because I want her… here… not with me, but with us. And my thoughts aren't pretty because of that. Because of how easily she has disarmed me. How much she had made me want. And wish. And need.
I hate her for making me need something I don't have.
No, I don't hate her. I can't. I've tried. But I can't. She's impossible to hate. Too beautiful, amazing, gorgeous, and perfect.
I wish I could hate her.
No, not that either.
Christ, I'm a mess.
"You're tense," she murmured softly.
And then her hands… God… you know, right there… on my shoulders… and neck… pressing slowly but persistently. Yeah, I stopped playing.
Working me slowly. Ridding me of all the fucked up tension from sleeping in Emma's bed… sleeping on her floor…
"Fuck," I shuddered out in a breath.
She's good at this, too.
"Want me to stop?" she asked, and I fought the urge to laugh at the stupid, stupid question, because no, no, I don't want her to stop.
Ever.
"Christ, no," I groaned.
And then, yes… right there… her warm hands… shoulder blades… Shit, I heard that one… So many kinks.
Fuck, you're good…
"Take off your shirt."
Yes. Sure. Anything you say. You clearly know what you're doing, and I'd be a fool to question you.
"It's easier to massage if you don't have the sweater."
She clarified, but I wasn't going to ask her in the first place.
The shirt disappeared.
And then…
"Hhho,"oly mother of God. I shivered. And shuddered. Her hands… on me… skin on skin.
"Feels good?"
In more ways you'll ever know.
"Understatement," I moaned.
And I want more.
Much more.
All of you.
Now.
She kneaded, rubbed, and pressed, harder, ridding my soreness… but she also came closer. I felt her… as she worked me, worked my back, and neck… that she leaned in… to add pressure. And it crackled. Set my body on fire. Breaths came heavier. My body… it woke up… starving for…
Her.
"Relax," she murmured softly.
My skin broke out in goose flesh, and… I felt more… not because she came closer, but… because I'm just so fucking aware of her. And all she does. I'm about… maybe… two minutes away… from jumping her. To take her. Right here. Right now.
Hard.
Repeatedly. Fast. Without mercy. Over and over. And over. Again. Yes. Animalistic.
"You need to relax," she whispered.
I can't.
I was so past everything sane that I didn't give a flying fuck that if she looked over my shoulder… and down… she would see my jeans straining…
Maybe one minute away.
I'm done. So done.
Want her to… scream… my name… only my name. As I take her… here… on my piano. Against the wall. On the floor. I'd make her come hard. Around me. On me. I moaned. Fuck. Now. Right this goddamn second.
But…
Her hands left my neck then, and…
"I'm just gonna check on Emma."
I wanted to cry.
Opening my eyes, I… watched myself, how my chest heaved, my hands clenched into tight fists, my cock ready to burst through my jeans. And Bella was gone.
.
.
.
It took a long time before things returned to normal. My breathing. My erection. My tensed body.
But once I had, I left the room.
Only one thing would work now, and that was my daughter. I needed her to keep me in check. She was the one that helped me focus.
*Hi, Daddy,* Emma greeted me as I reached the living room.
It was instant the way I relaxed.
"Hey, Princess. Where's Bella?"
Sitting down next to her on the couch, I planted a kiss on the top of her head.
Yes, calm.
*Bathroom.*
"You can do better, Emma," I told her with a pointed look.
She rolled her eyes at me but complied, mouthing the word this time.
*Excellent,* I signed, knowing it was new to her.
She looked confused but said nothing. Just looked at me in question, but I wouldn't budge.
She understood after a while.
*What did that mean?* she asked.
*Very good,* I explained. And then I finger-spelled it for her, knowing that she always preferred when I spelled out the new words.
Grinning widely, she signed an 'okay' before turning back to the movie.
Bella emerged a while later and told us that she'd start dinner.
"You don't have to cook, Bella. We can order something," I said.
"No, no, I like to cook," she assured. "It helps when I have stuff to think about, and sort through."
With a smile, she left for the kitchen, and I wondered…What stuff is going through her mind?
Emma nudged my arm then to get my attention.
*I love she is here, Daddy.*
Awesome, I thought as I swallowed hard.
*She is very funny. And her breakfast is better.*
Great. Thanks, baby.
Ain't nothing wrong with burnt toast. It gives the bread character.
*You know she is leaving soon,* I reminded her.
I didn't look forward to the day Bella found her own place, and Emma sure as hell didn't either, but I needed to remind her… maybe remind both of us that… Bella wasn't here to live. It was only temporary.
*She can live here,* was Emma's simple reply.
Yes, to a five year old, everything was simple.
To a daddy, it's not.
To an Edward, it's not.
*She wants her own place, Princess.*
*Why?*
Yeah… uhm, because she's twenty years old and don't want a horny bastard asking her to play house.
"We don't have room," I lied. Lame lie, to boot.
Even Emma saw through that one, knowing very well that Bella had her own room as it is now.
But I'm an idiot, so I continued. *I need her room.*
She furrowed her brow at me, and I thought what a complete fuckwit I was, because I had no idea how to keep the lie going without… you know, having my five year old call me out on it.
*Bella can live in my room,* Emma signed then.
"Your bed is too small," I argued petulantly.
*Buy a big girl bed for Bella,* she argued back.
"I don't have money."
God, could I be more pathetic? Not only does Emma know that we have money, but out apartment is goddamn big.
*She can sleep in your bed, Daddy.*
Yes, can't she?
"Bella wants her own bed. Her own room. Her own place to live."
Her own life…
*Aunt Rose said no, Daddy.*
And now she looked sad.
The fuck?
What the hell had my sister told her?
*What do you mean, Princess?* I asked after I had settled her on my lap.
*Aunt Rose said Bella should live here. With us.*
"When did she say that?" I asked, forcing myself to smile.
*Before.* She shrugged. *She said she has a plan.*
A plan.
My sister is a class A bitch.
A lie of protection came easier. "Aunt Rose was joking, baby. But I will talk to her. Okay?"
I will also shout and give her a piece of my mind.
Emma settled for that… for now. But I knew she wouldn't forget.

*O*O*O*

Dinner was a quiet affair. On my part.
I watched as Bella and Emma laughed, giggled, and talked about… whatever. I think I saw them mention Katie, their playgroup, and something about… something. But I just watched, and it was painful—to see every smile… to hear my girl's every giggle.
It made me feel inadequate.
There was something I couldn't give her. But someone else could, and right now, that person was Bella.
I was a great dad, I knew that. I knew that. But I couldn't so animatedly talk about the coolest toys in the world that Emma had seen, that Bella knew about even. I couldn't get wrapped up in a story like that. Not because I lacked interest, but simply because I didn't know how to do that.
I don't know the princess-movie they're talking about, or the Barbie that is themed with the movie. Or how sparkly the damn horse is that you can purchase with said doll.
I don't know that shit.
But Bella knows. And she is the one making my girl gasp for air through her giggle-fit.
Because Bella is signing about how funny it would be if the sparkly horse and the doll… yea, something about them.
See? I couldn't even continue my train of thought, because they lost me at 'sparkly.'
But whatever it was… made Emma laugh so hard that it brought tears to her eyes.

*o*o*o*

Alright, I was a bit broody earlier.
Emma sure as hell cheered me up when I got her ready to go to bed.
Not only was she extra cuddly, but she also insisted that we had a tickle-war, because obviously… no one can tickle like Daddy.
"You're looking cheery," Bella said as I lunged for the couch. "I take it that Emma's asleep?"
"Yep and yep." I grinned. "She went out like a light after she claimed the winning title of yet another tickle-war."
"I see," she chuckled. "She sure is a strong little one, huh?"
Something flashed…
"…and don't even get me started on little one… Too smart for her own good…"
Little one. Bella said that in her insane rambling yesterday.
And another… "…And I just fucking know that as soon as she comes… I'm gonna be putty in her hands… so wrapped around her finger…"
"Edward?" Bella chuckled.
Oh, right.
"Um… yeah… she's strong," I replied dumbly.
Christ.
Bella wasn't talking about Alice.
She was talking about Emma.
Emma's the 'little one' that she loves.
Loves.
I… can't take this anymore.
And it's… wow, late. Almost eight PM. Very, very late.
"Uh, I'm tired," I lied as I stood up. "And uh, it's work tomorrow… So, uh, yeah, goodnight."
I didn't wait for her reply. It would most likely be something about me going mental, but I needed to be alone. I needed to remember. Remember what the hell it was she muttered yesterday.
I closed the door to my bedroom, brushed my teeth, took a long shower… put on a pair of boxers… Lied down on my bed… stared at the ceiling. What did she say? Something about…
"…So goddamn talented and adorable, but I'm not fooled… oh, who am I kidding, of course I'm fooled… but it doesn't matter… she may be all that, but she's also a sneaky little thing… and I goddamn love her…"
She… It was never Alice. Emma's the little one, and Bella loves her.
It's mutual.
Emma's not the only one feeling so strongly. It's Bella, too.
It shouldn't surprise me, my girl is perfection. But still… Bella loves her. That matters. More than I thought possible. It means that just because Bella moves, she won't forget Emma. She won't move on just like that. She'll stay in Emma's life. Maybe for years. Maybe forever.
You don't fall out of love with a child. That's permanent.
And God knows Bella's nothing like the bitches… Heidi and Tanya.
I found myself relaxing.
No matter what, Emma will have Bella.
Because she said it herself, Emma has her wrapped around her finger.
Fuck, this feels good.
Huh, what else did I miss in the great Bella-ramble?
Getting out of bed, I began pacing by the bed… around… on the floor… thinking… trying to remember.
But I came up with shit.
Because what I remember is… how… Sorry to say this, but how fucking sexy she was… walking around in the kitchen, making her damn mac and cheese, muttering annoyed as hell, wearing… very little.
Jesus, that body of hers…
Or how she looked when I saw her come. In front of me. How her taut nipples strained against her tank top, how her fingers moved, pinched them… how her other hand descended towards her pussy… and how she touched herself…
Moaning out my name.
Ah, shit.
I'm sick and tired of cold showers.
But as I looked down, seeing my erection strain against my boxers, a cold shower was the last thing I wanted. I wanted warm, tight… wet… wrapped around me.
Exhaling sharply, I wrapped my hand around my cock, outside the boxers, thinking how it would be to watch Bella writhe under me as I… push hard. Into her. Deeply. Yes, I would work her pussy good. Deep, long strokes. Feeling her take me in. She would moan my name.
And I need to stop. Immediately.
With an internal whine, I glanced towards my ensuite bathroom, feeling my cock deflate just by the thought of it.
It actually worked.
My alarm clock caught my eye then, and I noticed it was passed midnight.
"How the hell did that happen?" I whispered to myself.
How did four hours pass just like that?
Because I'm too horny to notice, I thought as I made my way to the kitchen.
Coffee's out of the question if I ever want to sleep, so water it is.
The apartment was dark as I walked, which didn't surprise me. Bella usually went to bed before midnight when it was a school night.
I shivered as the cold from the fridge hit my chest, and quickly grabbed a bottle-
And I sorta froze, because I heard light footsteps.
Behind me.
I knew it was Bella.
I also knew that when I turned around, I would want her more. How that now was possible. But true nonetheless. And my thoughts from earlier, in the bedroom, came back. In full force.
Swallowing hard, I grabbed the water, not really interested in it anymore, and closed the fridge door.
Turned around.
And I was right.
I wanted her more than ever. Needed her. Craved her.
She stood there. Wearing a white tank top that hugged her like second skin… and another pair of those, too-short pajama shorts… that left nothing to my imagination.
She watched me.
I watched her.
Stay or go?
Should I give her another lame excuse? Should I deliver another lie?
Or should I give in, I wondered as I sat the water down on the counter behind me.
Because I knew it was an option. I knew that as I watched her watch me… and I stood here… in nothing but a pair of boxers.
Stay or go?
Her eyes were dark in the dim lighting. It could be lust. It could be the lack of light.
But her chest rose and fell rapidly.
Her breasts…
My mind was already made up, though. I knew that.
I was going to have her. Tonight.
And then she spoke. Quietly. Softly. Like the angelic creature she is.
"How long are you going to deny that there is something between us?"
Good question.
I've been an idiot. Clearly.
She's twenty years old. She will want casual.
I will giver her casual. So help me God, I will give it to her.
"I'm done denying," I heard myself say. "Come here."