Fun With Your Clothes On One-Shot Contest

Title: That Night

Your pen name: Savannah-Vee

Characters: Edward and…read and you'll find out!

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.

To see other entries in the Fun With Your Clothes On Contest, please visit the C2 page:

http://www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/community/Fun_With_Your_Clothes_On_Contest/79678/

I don't know how I'm gonna make it through this evening, being in such close proximity with her. She drives me crazy. Every time there's a family function she's there. Always there, teasing, mocking, condescending. God, I hate her. No, actually I don't hate her… I just…hate what she does to me.

But I can ignore her, right? I mean, how hard can it be? It's only a few hours with her, surely I can manage that. You'd think I'd be used to her now, I mean, she's been around for a while now. But seriously, how can I get used to her? Every time I see her I…

I'll just…keep away from her, not look at her too much; only talk to her if I absolutely have to.

Ok, that's a plan. Let's just hope I can stick to it…

The door opens about thirty seconds after I ring the bell and there she is, standing before me – as stunning as ever.

Fuck.

I can't help but give her a once over, my eyes skimming her frame quickly. She's in a little black dress. It's form fitting, with thin straps, slightly above knee length, an ample amount of cleavage on show…

"Edward?"

Why does she always say my name like that? Like it's a question.

She's staring at me, and her eyes also roam the length of my body, giving me a once over too. I immediately start shuffling under her scrutiny, lowering my eyes to the floor and clearing my throat until she's satisfied with her appraisal, her bright eyes finally landing on my face.

I'm already starting to feel too warm.

I nod at her politely, the corners of my mouth curving up in a miniscule – and forced – smile.

She smiles back, and her smile is wide, with her straight, whitened teeth all on show.

Her smile seems…mocking.

I start to panic a little, growing paranoid. Is she laughing at me? What, am I dressed funny or something?

I inconspicuously glance down at my outfit: new, black, tailored, Armani Pinstripe suit, crisp, white button down shirt, plain black silk tie, black, polished shoes.

I look good. I know I do. How can I not?

But that smile…what does it mean?

Why do I let her get to me so much?

Her left, neatly shaped eyebrow rises, and her mocking smile dwindles slightly, into a mocking smirk. "Are you gonna come in or what?"

I nod, needlessly straightening my tie. "Um, yeah, sorry."

She steps back, not holding the door open wide enough for me, so I have to skim her body slightly as I step inside their large, modern house.

Their house is magnificent. I mean, the foyer alone is beautifully decorated, all off-white walls and shiny, beige hardwood floor. The lighting there is dim, giving out a soft, intimate glow, almost like candle light.

She closes the front door silently and stands opposite me, that irksome, mocking expression still outlined on her pretty face: a single eyebrow ever-so-slightly raised; a faint smirk wafting around her red mouth. "Let me take your jacket," she says. "Everyone is in the living room, you can join them – if you'd like. I'm gonna be in the kitchen; I have to finish making dessert."

The way she says it is like it's an invitation or something... 'You can join them – if you'd like. I'm gonna be in the kitchen.' Christ, she's started already. Why does she do this to me?

She outstretches her smooth, toned arms slightly at me, luminescent eyes rising to meet mine. What is she doing? I don't move; I do nothing but stand there, holding her eyes.

The eyebrow rises further. "Would you prefer keeping your jacket on?" she asks, her smirk and tone condescending, and I feel my face growing flushed as I realize she was reaching out for my jacket, and I just stood there, like a fucking idiot.

Shit.

I don't answer her. I hastily shrug out of my black, leather jacket, and before I realize it, she's behind me, the backs of her manicured fingers lightly brushing against me as she helps me out of it. I stiffen as she slides the jacket down my arms, a strong sense of Deja Vu suddenly evident, because that's the same way she did it that night. Painstaking, deliberate, letting just the backs of her soft fingers caress my skin.

My arms break out in goose bumps at the thought.

She hangs my jacket over her left arm, the slender index finger of her right hand running over the leather material absently. My eyes are drawn to the movement.

"You should go into the living room." Her husky voice is low now, commanding. Why does she want me to go in the living room now? A moment ago she was hinting at me to follow her into the kitchen. What changed?

I can't understand her. I've never been able to understand her.

With my hands in loose fists in my pockets, jaw stiffened, I brush past her, ignoring the way the scent of her perfume clings to me as I pass.

TTT

"Edward!" they chorus, as I step into the room.

My mom is the first to rush to me, flinging her soft arms around my neck and hugging me tightly. I have to bend over slightly to accommodate her height – or lack of it.

"Hey, mom," I say into her pearl adorned neck.

She leans back and holds my cheeks in her palms, beaming at me. "Oh honey, look at you! You look wonderful, all grown up, and kitted out in your fancy suit. Stand up straight, lemme get a proper look at you!"

I grimace, but comply to her wishes. I haven't seen her in so long, it's the least I can do. The guilt at that fact gnaws at me, but I push it away. I had to stay away. It was for the best.

As I stand straight, all of their eyes are on me, all smiles, full of pride. I hate being the centre of attention. Already I feel a blush oozing through my face and neck. Fuck, this is embarrassing.

My mom fishes in her handbag. "Lemme just…find my camera and take a picture of you quickly –"

"No, mom!" I cry, mortified at the idea. They all laugh at my obvious discomfort. "This isn't supposed to be about me," I mutter, lowering my eyes to my shiny shoes. "It's a little rude to steal their shine, don't you think? We can take pictures later or something..."

My mom smiles at me warmly, her head tilted to the side. She places a palm on my warm cheek again, lifting my face slightly so I'm looking at her. "I've missed you, Edward. Look at you. Dartmouth graduate, expensive suits, high paying job, and you're still my shy, sweet little boy." She leans up to kiss my cheek. "You don't visit nearly as much as you should. Why?"

I grimace again. I can't answer that. "I'm sorry, mom. I'll visit more now, I promise."

She nods, stroking my cheek a final time before going back to her spot on the couch.

Dad's next.

Thankfully, like me, he's a no-frills guy. He simply throws an arm around my shoulder, pats me on the back and messes my hair, muttering a, "good to see you, son."

The rest of the family follow suit, and by the time they've all approached me with their hugs and their kisses, and their hair ruffling, I'm cringing at my extremely disheveled hair and wrinkled blazer. They get back to whatever conversation they were having before I walked in, and I just stand, watching and leaning against the wall awkwardly, hands returning to my pockets, because they're all older than me and I can't really join in their discussion. The same thing happens at work too.

She appears at the doorway leading to the kitchen – which is actually directly opposite where I'm standing. She's got an apron tied around her small waist, oven mitts on her hands, and she looks like a model doing a commercial about baking or something. She can never look…domestic to me. It doesn't suit her.

She leans against the doorway with her right hip, and I'm pretty sure she's staring at me. I'm not a hundred percent certain because I'm not looking at her – I can't look at her – but she stands there silently for a long while, and I can feel her gaze. My stomach flutters and I have to take in a deep, calming breath.

He's sitting right there, where he could easily glance up and spot her, and she's standing there, staring at me like that. What the hell is wrong with her?

"Dinner will be ready shortly!" she calls in a singsong voice; and the rest of the family finally notices her presence in the doorway. They cheer merrily at the announcement of dinner.

Alice yells out, "It's about fucking time! My stomach's about to eat itself!"

I hear her laughing her husky laugh, before she retreats back into the kitchen. I glance at her from the corner of my eye, catching a glimpse of her toned, rounded ass disappearing around the doorway.

When I tear my eyes away from where she has just disappeared, Alice is in my face, waving her wine glass. She's at least tipsy, if not fully drunk, I'm sure. "Do me a favor, baby bro, and pour me another glass of wine," She says, smiling sweetly at me.

I sigh, and roll my eyes.

She winks and then reaches up to playfully ruffle my hair. "Thanks, Eddie. It's in the kitchen. Red please." She hands me her empty glass and wobbles back over to the couch, placing herself in her husband's lap.

It's only as I've taken a few steps towards it that I realize.

The kitchen.

I pause halfway there, hesitating. I don't want to be in there, alone, with her. I can't be alone with her…

"Show Eddie where the wine is please, hun, he seems a little lost. Fuck knows why he's just standing there," my annoying, drunken sister calls out.

And she's there, in the kitchen doorway again. She's still in the apron, though she's oven mitt-less now. She reaches out a hand for Alice's glass, and I have no choice but to hand it to her, and follow her into the kitchen.

My legs grow weak with anticipation. I can't kid myself, I want to be alone with her. But I shouldn't want it. It's wrong. But I can't help wanting it. Whatever she does in the kitchen, I know I won't stop it. I never can. That's why it's better for me to just stay away altogether.

I continue forward until I meet her at the doorway, and she takes the glass from me. Her fingers ever-so-slightly touch mine, the tips of them lingering a beat too long against my own. It feels like a…warning…or a…promise…of what's to come. She glances up at me through long lashes, her red lips set in a teasing smirk, before she suddenly turns and struts into the kitchen. Her hips sway hypnotically as she walks, the clingy material of her dress highlighting the delectable curves of her ass…

I close my mouth and follow her in a stunned silence.

She places Alice's glass on the counter, and then tiptoes, reaching up into the cupboard and retrieving another glass. Her dress rides up as she stretches her body, and I glimpse the backs of her thighs…

I have to loosen my tie. I'm suddenly burning hot.

She places the other glass next to Alice's and reaches for the wine rack. "You know, Edward, I won't bite you." She chuckles, watching me through a few locks of hair that have escaped her bun and are casually obscuring her eyes. "Well…I'll try not to anyway…"

Her comment sends my mind racing back to that night. The night I've thought about, nearly every night since. The night I've spent countless occasions whacking off to as I recall it, because the mere thought of it never fails to arouse me. The night that I wish could occur again.

But it can't occur again, and I feel terrible for wanting it to because it was wrong on so many levels – but I can't help it.

Even now as I think of it, I can already feel the slight tingling sensation in my groin, the increased 'awareness' of my cock, signaling the start of an erection. I start to notice the material of my pants more, as it rubs against my now twitching member.

I realize I haven't answered her question. Was it even a question? Was it meant to be rhetorical? I can't tell.

"What?" I ask.

She motions at the large space between us with a single finger and whispers, "You don't have to stand so far away you know."

"Oh." My voice is rough and I clear my throat, before tentatively taking a few steps towards her.

She holds up two bottles of wine, her eyes locking with mine as she asks, "Which would you prefer? Red or white?"

She already knows which I'd prefer.

I can't actually do anything but stare into her eyes. God, I hate her. No, I don't hate her. I just hate how she makes me feel. She makes me feel like an idiot. I'm right back to being that awkward, virginal seventeen year old boy whenever I'm around her. Although I'm a quiet, reserved guy, I usually have no issues with talking to women. As a matter of fact, I dated quite a lot during college. I'm usually confident around women…but her…

Then again, no woman I've dated has ever come close…

She sighs and cocks her head to the side. "Edward?"

Why does she say my name like that?

"Red," I blurt out.

She pours the red wine into both glasses and leaves them on the counter, before closing the still wide gap between us. I take a step back immediately, my breathing automatically accelerating.

She briefly glances at the doorway behind me, and then takes a step towards me again, until our bodies are inches apart. I freeze, standing stiffly before her, afraid to even take a breath. Part of me is afraid, guilty, trying hard to resist her charms – while the dominant part of me is excited, full of anticipation. The stirrings in my groin have increased at her proximity, and the urge to squeeze myself is strong.

She's pretty tall but she still only reaches my shoulders, her eyes level with my chest. She doesn't look up at me. Instead, she fingers my silk tie, stroking it lightly from the knot at my collar all the way down to my stomach where it ends. My abdominal muscles clench at her touch. She then wraps her fingers around the tie and pulls my body closer to her, the obvious bulge in my pants teasingly close to touching her. She raises her head to look at me.

"I haven't been able to keep my eyes off you all evening."

I swallow hard, causing my Adam's apple to jerk abruptly.

"You were handsome before, but now…" she trails off, biting her lower lip. With one hand still grasping my tie, she reaches her other hand up to my face, stroking my jaw. "You're all man now. A gorgeous, sexy man at that, and God, you don't know how much I want you right now."

Her hand slowly trails down to my neck, tantalizing, teasing, tickling, she continues her journey downwards, trickling her fingers over my chest, circling my nipples through my shirt before moving down to my abdomen, and then further down to my –

I suck in air sharply through my teeth, my eyes closing in pleasure as she squeezes my cock through my straining pants.

"This part of you was already pretty mature…" she murmurs.

"Christ, Edward! How fucking long does it take you to get a glass of wine?"

Alice's footsteps are close.

My eyes snap open in panic, but the feel of her hand, now gently stroking me, is distracting. "Stop," I breathe. "Please."

She releases my manhood, quickly moving over to the counter and picking up the wine glasses – just as Alice saunters in.

I'm left standing in the middle of the kitchen, trying to steady my breathing, while inconspicuously adjusting myself. Alice doesn't seem to notice anything, thankfully. She takes the glass from her, thanking her before glaring at me as she walks back out of the kitchen. I hastily follow.

"Wait," she suddenly calls.

I stop, glancing back at her over my shoulder.

She's holding up my wine glass. "You forgot your drink."

TTT

We're all seated in the dining room, around the long, oak table. It fits all ten of us, mom and dad at both heads of the table, me and my cousins, Tanya, Irina and Kate on one side, Alice and the rest of them on the other side.

She sits directly opposite me.

Dinner is…hard. Literally. I have a constant erection, and I know it's pretty inappropriate at the dinner table, but I just can't leave it alone. Not when she's sitting opposite me, making eating dinner look like foreplay. My hand disappears under the table every once in a while to tug at or to squeeze my aching erection. No one notices, all of them too engaged in pleasant conversation – except her.

She joins in the conversation, seeming as if she barely glances in my direction - but I see them.

I see the little glances she throws me, the teasing smirks she flashes me. I see the way she deliberately licks her lips languorously as she eats, the way she leans forward often, so her large boobs practically fall out of her bra. I see these things, and the need to touch the ever hardening bulge resting on my leg intensifies.

It can't get any worse –

I don't even finish the thought when I feel it.

I nearly choke on my wine, spluttering into a paper napkin as I try to drink and gasp simultaneously.

She has removed her shoe and has placed her foot on my lap, toes delicately rubbing against my cock.

She doesn't even look at me as she does it, still conversing, laughing nonchalantly, scooping more potatoes onto her plate, while her foot and toes are working me frantically under the table.

My hands involuntarily grip the edge of the dinner table. I force back my groans, my jaw flexing with the restraint. I need to leave the table. I need to find the bathroom and relieve myself, quickly, before I embarrass myself right here, with all my family sitting around me.

But I can't move.

How can I deprive my cock from this feeling, this...bliss? I needed the contact, the stimulation, and now that I have it…I can't stop her. So I sit there, perspiration beading my forehead, as I grow closer and closer to erupting all over my brand new Armani pants. Her toes continue stroking, and God, it ecstasy. Why is she doing this to me? I can't help a hiss from escaping my parted lips.

Kate glances at me in question.

I fight to hold back my orgasm, my fingers practically molding into the table. I can count the seconds in which I will explode. There's no way I'll be able to stop it.

Five…I look down at my plate, squeezing my eyes tightly shut.

Four…I grimace as I feel it, rising, building, low in my abdomen.

Three…I transfer my vice grip to my chair, fingers grasping the seat under my ass.

Two…I get ready to bite back my moan.

And she stops.

She removes her foot suddenly, and I can't hold back my loud groan at the anticlimax. How can she do that to me? She knew I was about to cum, I'm sure of it. But I can't dwell on that, because everyone at the table – including her – is now silent and staring at me, puzzled.

I have to control my breathing as I speak. "Sorry, can…can I be excused?"

I don't even wait for a response, scraping my chair back quickly and standing up, I turn around hastily before anyone can notice the situation in my pants.

TTT

I go into the kitchen, leaning against the counter heavily, still panting. I loosen my tie and unbutton the first two buttons of my shirt.

Why is she doing this to me? Why can't she just leave me alone?

I fist my hair tightly, closing my eyes and letting out an exasperated groan. My balls are aching, heavy and throbbing in my pants, my cock is impossibly sensitive. Even the small brushes of my pants against it are too much, so I loosen my belt and unzip my pants to give it more room.

When I open my eyes again after about a minute, I'm stunned to see that she's there, standing before me, staring at me.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask her, staring back into her eyes. I can't figure out her expression at all.

She doesn't respond to my question. Instead I feel fingertips lightly pressing against my groin. I flinch at her touch, before I grab her wrist, stopping her hand.

"Just stop," I grind out through clamped teeth, my voice strained.

She takes me by surprise, suddenly pushing her hips into me. Our hands are still between our bodies and she pushes them into my cock. I groan, releasing her, and she uses the opportunity to push me back into the counter and pressing into me with her hips, until my cock is nestled between her thighs. She grabs my tie again, pulling my upper body towards her as she shifts her hips against me, causing heavenly friction for my deprived erection.

My eyes involuntarily roll back. "Stop, please," I moan. But it's a half hearted request and she knows it. She continues on, her hips thrusting back and forth into me, her boobs pressing against my chest, a hand grasping my tie. Then she reaches up to my hair and tugs at it, pulling my face down to hers and pressing her full red lips firmly against mine. The kiss is frantic, fervent, desperate even, and we both breathe heavily through our noses, chests heaving, teeth occasionally clashing, tongues immediately intermingling. It's fucking sexy as hell. I reach for her ass, squeezing it as I pull her body closer, my own hips now thrusting against hers, matching the rhythm of hers in a sort of erotic dance.

"Oh, Edward," she moans in between our frenzied kisses. "God, you don't know how much I want you."

Her words snap me back from my lustful haze, and I suddenly remember where we are, and why this is wrong.

"Stop," I say again, my voice muted by her mouth. But my body contradicts my words as I continue the rhythmic movements of my hips and lips against hers.

However, she slows, halting the movement of her lower body and gradually slowing down our fevered kisses, before pulling back and looking into my eyes.

We gaze at each other mutely, the sound of our heavy breathing punctuating the silence. My hands are still clutching her ass, and her fingers occasionally stroke at my hair gently, while her other hand is still loosely holding my tie. Her hair is a mess now, her neat little bun half falling out, tendrils waving over her face, some sticking to her damp forehead. I'm sure mine is equally as dishevelled, and her red lipstick must be smeared all over my mouth. My tie is probably creased beyond belief too. How are we both gonna be able to go back to the dinner table in this state?

"You're right," she whispers, after a long moment of silence. "We should stop. Someone could walk in at any moment..." But her eyes glimmer wickedly as she says this, and I know the risk we're taking excites her. I can't help shifting my hips into her minutely at the thought. Admittedly, it turns me on too. Not that I want to get caught. Or maybe, on some subconscious level I do.

"Come on."

She steps back out of my hold and her hands reach for mine. She tugs me out of the kitchen, going through the door that leads into the hall, quickly glancing back at the other entrance to the kitchen to make sure no one's there.

"Where are we going?" I whisper.

She pulls me down the hall and into the dimly lit foyer, pushing me into the cream colored wall, and once again molding her body into mine. "No one will think to look for us here," she whispers with a smirk.

"But…they'll get suspicious…I mean, we both disappear at the same time –"

Her burning lips on mine silences me, and I groan, immediately reaching for her hips and pressing my body into her.

"We…can't…do…this," I pant in between kisses.

"Why?" she retorts, jerking her hips into me.

I hiss. "Because…because…it's wrong."

"Edward," she half moans my name. "If this is wrong, then fuck being right."

I groan, my tongue snaking inside her mouth, stroking, exploring, tasting, before I pull back and murmur, "you're engaged."

"So?" she pushes her mouth back on mine, sucking hungrily at my bottom lip.

"He's…he's my brother."

"And?" She reaches between us, palming my cock.

"Fuck…I can't do this."

"Edward, it's too late for that now. It's been too late since that night."

I gasp as she squeezes my cock, shaking my head vehemently. "I…that wasn't intentional…I…I didn't know you were his then."

"I'm not his, Edward." Her lips are at my earlobe as she whispers this, her hand still squeezing and stroking me.

I still her hand, pushing it away from my groin so I can concentrate on her words, anger suddenly flooding me. "Then why are you marrying him? This is your engagement party, for Christ's sake."

She doesn't answer, instead she turns us around so she's pressed against the wall. She wraps her arms around my neck and hooks her legs around my ass, crossing them.

"Fuck…" I groan.

She's not wearing any panties under the little black dress, and my cock is nestled right at the valley of her thighs. It's incredibly hot and I feel the moisture seeping onto my pants…

I can't help myself. I grab her ass again and hold her up, as I begin thrusting again vigorously, my still solid cock meeting her damp crotch roughly, again and again and again. I use my aggressive thrusts as a release, purging my emotions with every forceful shift of my hips. I purge my anger at her, and her callous words, my anger at myself, my guilt for doing this to my own brother, my insatiable lust for her. Her ass slams into the wall behind her with each of my angry thrusts, and her arms tighten around my neck.

She whimpers, burying her damp face into the crook of my neck. "Oh, Edward," she moans, her voice muffled.

I turn my head to her, nibbling her shoulder softly, planting gentle kisses wherever my lips can reach, a complete contradiction to the way my lower half is slamming into her. The thin straps of her black dress have fallen around her arms and she tilts her head back in ecstasy, revealing a nipple which has fallen out of her bra cup.

I'm again fighting off the urge to cum, and the sight of her nipple, peeking, pink and plump, has me slowing down my thrusts for fear of exploding. I lean forward, kissing her exposed breast, before sucking it into my mouth, my tongue stroking the tightened nipple. I inhale her perfume, the heady scent of it stirring up the memory of that night.

"Oh yes, Edward," she murmurs. "Yes. Fuck yes."

She holds my head, pushing it further into her breast. I hum as I suck on it, my hips slowing, becoming gentler, but never once stopping its movements.

"Why are you marrying him?" I mumble, delicately kissing her breast.

"Edward, I have to."

My head snaps up to look at her, and I finally still my hips, the anger flaring again. "Why? You obviously don't love him if you're here, fooling around with me at your own engagement party. And we slept together, Rosalie, or are you forgetting that night?! You had already been with him a few months, yet you had sex with me, the very first time we met. You can't honestly love him if you can do such a thing to him. And you knew I was his brother didn't you? But you didn't care. I didn't know that you were his girlfriend that night, I thought you were just a random girl at the party, or I would have never –"

"Shhh." She places a finger over my lips, silencing my tirade. "I know it was all my fault. I know I seduced you when you were only seventeen, and I know I persuaded you to lose your virginity to me –"

"No other woman has ever come close to making me feel how I felt that night," I interrupt quietly. "No one has measured up to you, Rosalie. No one." She kisses me softly, effectively silencing me again.

"That night was wrong, Edward. I shouldn't have done that. You were young, innocent, vulnerable, and I took advantage of you. I could have gone to prison for having sex with you. You were still a minor. Fuck, I even gave you alcohol."

"So?" I say, imploring with my eyes as I look into hers. "That was five years ago. I'm old enough to be with you now. I want to be with you."

"No, Edward."

I stare at her, brows creasing in confusion.

"Then, if you don't want to be with me, why are you leading me on? Why do you purposely tease me every time I see you? Why do you make me want you so badly?"

She reaches a hand up to cup my cheek. "Edward, I want you, I do. Emmett never turns me on as much you did. As much as you do..."

"Then leave him and be with me."

She shakes her head, lowering her aquamarine eyes. "It's not that simple."

I flinch back from her hand and unwrap her legs from behind me, placing her back on her feet.

"What do you want from me, Rosalie?"

"Edward –" she reaches a hand for my face again but I step back, shaking my head.

"When I left Forks for college, I rarely came back to visit my family. I didn't go to any family functions – Christ, I even missed Alice's wedding - because I was afraid of seeing you there. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to resist you, and I just couldn't do that to Emmett. I thought about you every single night after that night, you know. I couldn't even stay in a relationship for long because every girl just...wasn't you.

I want you, Rosalie, all of you, but he's my brother. So I tried to avoid you, for his sake. But every time I see you, every time I've run out of excuses and I have to attend a family occasion – like today – you do this. You tease me with your deliberate touches and your pointed comments and then you just –"

"Edward, I want you too. Every time I see you, the attraction is indescribable. I want you physically…sexually." She sighs. "But that's all it is. Physical attraction. I can't cancel an engagement and end a five year relationship because of lust."

Her words sting, and I take a step further back. "Then why don't you just leave me alone?"

"I don't know. I try to leave you alone, I swear, but I can't help it, Edward. Look at you right now…" she reaches for me again but I avoid her hand. "How can I leave you alone when you're so fucking beautiful?"

The front door suddenly pushes open, and we both freeze.

Rosalie gasps quietly, a hand flying to her mouth. I turn around hesitantly to see who's coming through the door, a feeling of dread settling at the pit of my stomach, because whoever it is has probably heard part of our heated conversation.

The cropped, jet black hair I spot is no consolation, and I groan quietly in horror, as she stares at us in a loaded silence.

I faintly catch a whiff of cigarette smoke, before Alice shuts the door behind her with a light click. She's holding a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in one hand.

She was probably standing out on the front porch, smoking.

Fuck.

She probably heard every single word of our conversation.

"You bitch!" She spits at Rosalie, who has started sobbing silently behind me. "And you," she switches her gaze to me. "How could you do that to him?! Your fucking brother!"

I have no words, no protests, because I know she's right.

She storms past us, likely heading for the dining room, and Rosalie pushes past me to follow her, crying out, "Wait, Alice, please, don't do this."

Alice ignores her, shrugging her off when she clutches at her shoulders in desperation, and I don't even follow as they disappear around the corner. I'm numb, my limbs frozen as a myriad of emotions flow through me.

The overriding emotion, oddly, is relief. I'm relieved that I can finally let go of that night. I can finally be honest with my family, I can finally lose a little of the gnawing guilt.

And although Rosalie says that her feelings for me are superficial, I don't believe her.

Maybe now I'll finally be able to have her, to be with her the way I've wanted to since that night.

TTT