Sexy Edward Contest:

Secret

Twilighter620

Type of Edward: Officer Edward

Character type: I guess IC

Story type: All Human

POV: present-tense Edward

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Jayeliwood (at) yahoo (dot) com

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Jayeliwood's profile page and visit her favorite stories.

The story is titled "Secret" after the Maroon 5 song on their Songs about Jane album. I realize this entry comes a little later but I think after the contest I might continue it into a story. The one-shot would be a prologue of sorts.

I don't own Twilight, but if I did Edward and Bells would be having hot sex in every chapter like they're about to do right now ;)

I should be looking at the road before me but it's impossible. The wet blacktop just blurs and the trees pass by at such a disturbing rate that if I were to lose control of the car for a split second we'd both be killed. The rain drums violently against the roof of my car.

It's the worst storm Seattle has seen in nearly 10 years and she's with me. She's sitting right next to me—not even 3 feet away from my touch.

I stare out the windshield but all I can see is her face…her high cheekbones, her soft nose, her wide doe eyes, her full luscious lips, the perfectly shaped eyebrows that define her face. Her long brown hair that spreads out like a halo whenever she's lying down fills my vision.

All I can hear is her laugh—the laugh that makes my heart race and my palms sweaty. I'm in love with her and I can't be with her. How is this fair? Why should I be denied happiness?

"Edward, we're here," her soft voice pulls me away from my thoughts.

I slow down and linger. I glance to my right and the quaint two-story residence she calls home is there.

My eyes divert slightly and I catch her staring at me. The expression on her face is unreadable. I want so badly to ask her what she thinking but I can't. I can't ever know what she's thinking.

It will just make me want her more and that can't happen. I can't hurt her by admitting I'm in love with her and never giving her the chance to return my affections. I'll lose my job. The job I've trained and worked for years to get. The job at which her father is my boss, and is completely unaware of how much I love his only daughter.

"Would you mind walking me to my door? I don't have an umbrella," she bites her lip.

I swallow. She glances at my Adam's apple as it contracts. When her brown eyes meet mine the liquid depth to them is overwhelming. She is still awaiting my answer. I nod lightly and her lips rise marginally to smile. I smirk quickly and grab the umbrella that is next to me.

I turn off the engine and put the jangling metal keys into my pocket. I open the driver's side door and the rain hammers against my exposed face and neck. I remember the umbrella and slam the door shut so she doesn't get wet.

The ridiculous contraption that's never stopped anyone from getting wet in a storm at this capacity opens and I rush over to the passenger's side. I can see the silhouette of her beautiful face behind the window.

I open her door and pull her into my side. The feeling of her body heat next to mine is intoxicating. She kicks the passenger's side door shut with her foot and starts to hurry towards her front door.

The place where I've dropped her off countless times and each time I do my heart aches. My wasted heart aches for the woman I can never be with.

Why does God do this to me? How can I have such an angel placed upon me and be expected to not fall madly in love with her?

We make it there unscathed which is a feat for her. I close the umbrella due to the fact we're now under the safety of her porch roof. It's still dark but I can see the vague outlines of her face from the streetlights. Even in the subtle light I know she's more beautiful than anything I've ever seen.

"Thanks for the ride, Edward. Please don't tell Charlie about the truck and what happened. He'd be furious if he knew I was trying to drive it in this weather," she pleads in her lovely voice.

The voice that makes my chest constrict every time I hear it. I always imagine her speaking when she's not near but I can never do it justice. She's perfect. How I might be so arrogant to think she could feel the same is ludicrous. I could spend a million lifetimes trying to love her and be everything she deserves and it would never be enough.

"I won't. Please be careful next time though. I'd hate to think what would have happened to you if I hadn't been on my way home," I respond in a serious tone.

She nods understandingly. I feel like an ass. I almost sound like her father. I don't want to control her or scold her. She's old enough to take of herself but the thought of her being stranded in her truck during this storm was more than terrifying. Anything could happen to her and it would kill me. My wasted heart would go cold.

I turn to leave her. Any second longer of being around her and I'll combust. With all the spent we've spent together lately it's becoming harder yet paradoxically easier to leave her. My insides are desperate to stay but my mind's internal limit shoos me away before I can't contain myself.

My footsteps move toward the ledge of her porch and her hand reaches out to grab my jacket. The movement is forceful and startles me. My veins run cold and hot at the same time. I'm frozen in my place. The action is so unexpected I can't move.

My heart starts to pound in my chest at such a tone I'm surprised she can't hear it over the rain. A rumble of thunder groans far away and I glance at the sound. I can't look at her. If I do I'll lose my composure. One look into those brown eyes right now and I'll lose the battle and give into her siren's call.

"Don't go, Edward. It's so dangerous right now. Please stay," her voice cracks.

As her voice cracks my heart rate thumps. The sound is alluringly pleading. There is no hint of desperation but rather concern. She's concerned for my well-being. The woman I dream about whether my eyes are closed or not, I'm conscious or comatose, is concerned about me.

My throat is dry—a stark contrast to the moisture in the air and along her front lawn. I close my eyes and will myself to turn towards her. Her grip on my jacket slackens and she pulls her hand away. I immediately yearn for the contact. Such a dangerous thought to have around her.

I know if I open my eyes right now I'll be looking at her. I try to prepare myself.

My eyelids flutter open and her perfect eyebrows are inched together. A look of confusion and concern is etched across her lovely features. My hands are trembling at my sides. She has no idea the effect she has on me. It's impossible to deny her when she pleads with me.

"Edward, please," she repeats in a quieter voice.

A loud slap of lightning hits and the thunder comes soon after. My argument is moot just by this one simple act of Mother Nature. Her eyes trail down to the floor and she pauses for a moment. I think she realizes that I won't give her answer but that she's victorious.

Her keys jangle and she places them into the door lock. She turns it to the left and pushes the large wooden door forward. She steps in and glances over her shoulder, seeing whether or not I'll follow her in.

My feet seem to move on their own accord and I follow her in. She walks in and her tiny hand brushes against a wall to switch a light on. The house illuminates generously.I close the door behind me and lock it for her. I don't plan on staying despite my desire and although with me around she'd be more than safe I still don't want to leave her unprotected.

I look around her home. There's a cozy living room with a large bookcase against a wall. She has a small but decent sized kitchen. For some reason it seems to fit her. She's very simple. A home with the same atmosphere and design is befitting.

I look back and she's staring at me again. That same unreadable expression from earlier is upon her face. The tension is so thick it seems to be choking me.

"You have a nice home," I add generically.

The desperate need to rid this situation of its awkwardness forces me to be less than genuine towards her. Of course I do like her home but those are not the words I wish to say. I wish to tell her much I love and adore her, how much I wish she would let me love her, how much I wish I could stay with her forever, how much I wish I could stop time to be with her.

She smiles politely at me and points at my jacket. I glance down and my work jacket is still on and relatively damp. This explains the chill I'm feeling—or at least part of why I feel so cold. I shrug out of the jacket and hand it to her. She takes it with a smile and disappears down a hallway.

I take her absence as an opportunity to remove my gun and holster. I place the nightstick on the table next to her front door. I look down at the items I've placed on her table and I grimace. My flashlight, nightstick, radio, handcuffs, magazine, and lastly gun…are all things that keep me away from her. All things that make it impossible for me to deserve any sort of affection from her.

She walks back in and I hear the faint sound of a dryer humming. I assume she's put my jacket to dry. As she gets closer she notices what I'm standing next to and her face falls a bit. I know she hates my job and I know she hates that her father is an officer too but it's what I am.

I'm Lieutenant-Detective Edward Anthony Masen. Her father is Chief of Police Charlie Swan. It's such a mistake that I've fallen in love with her but I can't help it. I gaze at her and she opens her mouth to speak.

"I wish you didn't work for him," she says in such a quiet voice I almost miss it.

She keeps her eyes locked on the hardwood floors of her hallway and swings her leg back and forth shyly. My body tells me to run over to her and comfort her but my mind warns me to stay away. Aloof. It's the key to everything. As long as I stay remote from her I can will myself to do what's best for her.

She looks up at me and her eyes are still sad. What I wouldn't give to be able to change that. She walks over to her kitchen and stands in front of the counter. Again my feet move on their own will. It's a natural reaction. I follow her into the tiny kitchen. With me standing in it, the room seems even smaller than before.

I'm there, in the archway just staring at her. It's all I ever do when I'm with her. I can hardly trust myself to speak so I rarely utter anything around her. But this time is different. I'm supposed to say something, anything.

"Bella," I respond my voice breathy and quiet.

Her shoulders rise slightly and slump again as I utter the most beautiful name I've ever known. Her name matches her perfectly. God, everything about her is perfect. My heart throbs with a dull pain. Her name from my lips hurts her.

Her tiny hands that hold her delicate fingers are pressed against the cold tile of her counter. Her back is still to me. I can't be upset by this. She has every right to feel hurt by me. All I ever do is make things difficult and strain our relationship. A poor choice of words on my part, we don't have a relationship. We could hardly even be classified as friends I'm so cold to her.

I stand there still. It feels like time has stopped. We're in this pitiful moment of nothingness.

Suddenly, she turns around and her eyes are pink from unshed tears. Her eyes are wet with moisture and her cheeks are flushed. I've never seen her cry before. The emotions that overcome me hit me like a freight train. My body abruptly seems heavy. I'm drowning in the emotions of seeing her cry. Seeing her beautiful face shed tears for me. I want to kill myself for ever making her unhappy.

My arms stretch out to encompass her tiny, delicate frame. She moves towards me and steps into my embrace. My arms are still moving. They wrap around her back and rest on her waist. The curvy waist that makes me ache with desire. Her small arms wrap around me as well and she presses her warm face against my chest. Her face is pressed directly over my heart. The heart that beats only for her.

Her salty tears start to dampen my work shirt. My eyes slide to a close. I feel woozy having her so close. Prior to before when I pressed her into my side on our way to her home this is the closest she's ever been to me. Physically or otherwise. My hands are trembling against her frame. I'm sure she can feel it but she doesn't say anything.

I feel her face leave my chest and my body misses the warmth. I can sense that she's looking at me but I can't open my eyes yet. It would be too much. So much has changed in the last minute. We've been too close for me to maintain composure.

Her arms leave my waist as mine stay locked around her. As much as I want them to move I feel paralyzed. I sense something getting closer to my face. Whatever it is, heat is coming off it in waves.

I feel her fingertips on my cheeks and her palms press down on the skin soon after. She's touching, holding my face in her hands. Her thumb is literally a centimeter away from my lips. I can't do this. My eyes snap open.

"I can't do this," I moan pathetically.

Her brown eyes are locked on mine. The intensity in them burns a whole through my retina. I can't look away. I almost don't even want to blink. My eyes are getting dry steadily. I'm forcing them to meet hers despite my better judgment.

All I can think is what have you done? How could you let it get this far? If this continues any further you'll never go back. Her gaze descends. I know where she's looking now and it's so bad.

"I can't do this. You're his daughter. You don't deserve me," I cry softly.

"Don't say anything. You'll ruin it. Just accept what you feel Edward. You're not Lieutenant Masen. You're Edward," she counters.

Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Why is she doing this to me? Why am I letting her? Why am I not stronger? I want to scream with frustration. It's not fair. Why should I be the one tempted? What did I do to deserve this? Live for the moment an errant thought shouts at me.

She's looking at me, waiting for me to respond. Seconds pass by. It feels like hours. She sighs. Time's up. Her gaze goes down once again to the place they shouldn't be.

Then so abruptly, all I can feel are her warm lips on me. My eyes bulge slightly and my body starts to feel like it's on fire. The nerve endings in my body are humming with excitement, frustration, bewilderment, joy, anger, despair.

And then I relent. I give into her.

My eyes slide shut and all I can think about is the feeling of her lips rubbing against mine. My hands slip from her waist and snap to her precious face. I place my hands on her face in an almost rough manner and secure her face to mine.

She sighs into my mouth and I take the opportunity to place my tongue in her mouth. She returns the gesture as I slide my tongue back and forth across hers. I'm desperate the taste her in every way possible. I've dreamed about this moment. My dreams are nothing in comparison.

As painful as the reality is that after I pull back I'll never get this moment back I have to enjoy it. Her hands are in my hair. They are never still. She brushes her nimble fingers through the locks or tugs at them. My chest is so warm that it feels like I'll combust.

Her fingers slip from my hair and she pushes me lightly. I know what she's trying to tell me and it feels like a knife is cutting through me. I have to stop. She needs to breathe. I don't want her to. I want to be able to take her breath away the way she does to me.

I concede and pull away panting. My heart is pounding in my chest from over-exertion. It's the most passionate and loving kiss I've ever experienced. I could die as I walk out her door and my life would have some sort of worth to it. I kissed her with every fiber of my being. All the love and adoration I have for her have been bled into that kiss. The wounds of my desperate love for her were treated with that kiss.

I look at her. Her full chest is heaving up and down in an effort to steady her breathing. The sight of her panting from my kiss is more tempting than should be allowed.

"I'm sorry. I—"

She holds a hand up to interrupt my apologies. I am sorry. I was much too forceful with her—more forceful than I should ever be with her. She's much too delicate and dainty for my brutish behavior.

"Edward Masen don't you dare apologize! I kissed you! Why do you do this to yourself? Who cares about Charlie and your job? I love you and I'm sick of pretending I don't care!" she cried with conviction.

Her eyes are starting to water and her eyebrows are pulled together in that adorable way that drives me crazy. She's frustrated. I'm elated and concerned. She loves me too despite her and my better judgment.

She shouldn't love me. It makes everything harder and I'm no good for her. She deserves someone who doesn't live in violence and will come home to her every night. Things are never certain for me. But the fact still exists. She loves me.

She's staring at me still waiting for a response. I'm probably scaring her. She probably thinks I'm rejecting her.

"I love you so much more than you know. I've loved you since the moment I saw you at your father's banquet. I'm so sorry….We shouldn't do this as much as I'm desperate too. My job is too dangerous and unstable. I could not come back one day…I love you too much to hurt you," my voice is thick with emotion.

"I don't care. I love you Edward Masen. I'm in too deep. I refuse to deny myself any longer."

I sigh heavily and she closes the space between us once again to crash her lips onto mine. Her hands are around my neck as her lips urgently cross mine. My hands come beneath her backside and I lift her. She locks her legs around mine. Our lips never part. I start to walk away.

I'm vaguely aware of where I'm going. My eyes are open, trying to get up the stairs of her home. I make it up the stairs without tripping. Her lips are still on mine as her hands run through my hair. I tap her backside to let her know I need some direction.

She never breaks the kiss and reaches out to touch a doorknob. My hand covers hers as I open a door. I look inside and I assume it's a bedroom. I can see the indistinct outline of nightstands and a bed. My hand gropes the wall to my right for a light switch but she smacks my hand out of the way.

I walk towards the bed and throw her down. My body is pressed against hers and I can feel every inch of her. Her ankles are still locked around my waist. Her hands release themselves from my neck as I use my arms to hover over her. Her skilled fingers run down my back and I shiver.

She reaches below my waistline and grabs my work shirt. She pulls out the starched and pressed material. I can feel her hand bunching the fabric past my belt. Her fingers loosen the vice-tight grip they have on my shirt and her soft fingertips brush with a feather's touch up my back.

I get Goosebumps and the hair on the back of my neck stands up. This woman gives me the chills from a simple touch. They explore the length of my back while I move my kisses to her jaw. I kiss along her defined and smooth jaw. She tilts her head to the right to give me better access. I continue to plant kisses along her jaw until her neck becomes more tempting that I can manage.

I suck lovingly on her skin and kiss intermittingly. Her hands are moving from my back to the front of my shirt. I know what she's about to do and I'm afraid it will make things progress to the point that I won't be able to return if I allow her to do it. My lips pull away reluctantly and I lean to whisper in her ear.

"Are you sure you want to do this? If you do that I won't be able to stop. Once it's off I'll never be able to leave this bed," I whisper gutturally.

She doesn't respond. Instead she brings her hands closer to my collar and undoes the first button. My eyes flutter and roll into the back of my head. The prospect of finally making love to her makes me harden. It's only going to get harder from here I think to myself. In more ways than one my conscience reminds me.

Her hands undo all the buttons of my shirt and she groans a little. I glance down and realize I have my white wife-beater on. I smile a little at the reaction the offensive piece of clothing coaxes from her. She wants it off, does she?

I pull back from her and she looks at me incredulously. I continue to smile. I sit back and straddle her legs. My hands cross just above my belt and I grab the tank top. I start to pull it slowly, very slowly up my torso. I watch her the entire time. With the light from the moon and the streetlights pouring through the bedroom window I can see her.

Her eyes widen as she lays propped up on her elbows. I thank God for my obsession with the gym and my need to stay in shape for work. Her eyes are drinking me in and I'm getting harder and harder. Once the tank top is past my head I throw it over the side of her bed and lean back to continue my work on her neck. A slap a lightning hits and she jerks lightly.

Her hands move to my stomach. She places her, still cool, fingertips to my chest and I shudder. They move in the opposite direction of one another and run past my shoulders, across my biceps and triceps to my forearms. She's exploring my body the way I want to learn every inch of her.

I move my weight to my left arm and start to unbutton the blouse she's wearing with my right hand. The buttons are straining against her full chest so they pop off easily. Her hands are back on my chest and are moving down towards my abs. Her dull nails scratch against my abs and past my belly button. My chest trembles and quivers. It's a natural reaction for them to contract.

The buttons on her blouse are done and my hand brushes the material away. My hand shoots back to the side of her head to steady myself as I stare at her. She's wearing a nondescript bra that I assume is a cotton material and is a navy blue color. It's not lacy or anything that seems like lingerie and for some reason that makes it more attractive.

I love that she's simple and that if she does wear things like that it's for special occasions. Now that I'm about to have her all I can think is that if she were to ever wear something like that I would hope it would be for me. I look at her and she's staring at me and biting her lip. I can tell she's self-conscious so I lean down and press my lips to hers. She's beautiful.

"You're beautiful," I whisper as I pull away.

She smiles her beautiful smile at me and my heart sings. My whole body warms with the emotions I feel for her. She presses her lips back to mine and grabs my belt buckle. My body is ready to burst with anticipation and my now painful erection is dying to be freed from its constraint. She undoes the buckle and I can feel it as it snakes around my waist to where she's pulling it. I'm dimly aware of her throwing it over the side of the bed until I hear it land with a thump.

My tongue is thrusting against hers again. The taste of her is incredible. There's a vague hint of a flavor I can't place. I know she wears Chap Stick. I've seen her put it on before. I notice everything about her. I could describe in perfect detail the outfit she wore when she came into our office the first time.

Her hands reach for my button and zipper. My stomach is assaulted with butterflies. I don't want to reveal myself to her yet. I want to explore her myself. I want to worship her body before I connect with her in that way. I pull back and my hands shoot out to stop her.

She looks at me. I mouth 'not yet' to her and she parts her lips to protest or respond. She never gets the chance as I cover her mouth with mine. Our lips are dancing in perfect synchronization again. My hands move to her bra straps as I remove my lips from hers.

I stare at her as I pull the straps away from her shoulders. I can feel the pressure release as her breasts become free from the material. My hand moves behind her to unhook the clasp.The final obstacle is complete but I have yet to look at my results. I pull the fabric away from her and add it to the growing pile of clothes on the right side of her bed.

I finally look down and her perfect breasts are staring at me—aching, begging to be caressed and tasted. I bring my gaze back to hers as I tilt my head down to her breasts. I place a kiss between the peaks and look down. My right hand brushes across her left breast and her nipple hardens instantly.

Her taut nipple is erect because of me. The fact she's aroused due to my actions throws my mind into overdrive. Lord knows how many times I've been aroused by her but to think I have to same affect on her is incredible. All I ever want now is to be the one who makes her aroused.

I caress her perfect breast in my right hand while I proceed to lap at the skin on her left breast. My tongue licks the smooth skin while my hand twists and teases the nipple of her right. I knead her breast carefully and skillfully. She moans and my member becomes harder. It seems impossible for me to become any more aroused than I am at this point.

My mouth and hand switch their positions and her hands snake their way into my hair. She pushes me onto her breast. It's been minutes. I know it but I can hardly bring myself to care. I'm relishing in the moment too much.

Finally when my "teasing" becomes too much for her she pulls my head to her lips. Our mouths crash together. There's saliva everywhere but it's surprisingly erotic. I bring my hands to her jeans and slip a hand beneath the hemline. My hand cups her warmth and she cries out into our kiss. I pull away and glance at her. Her eyes are half-closed and she's wet already.

I slip my hand away and she moans a little. It seems she's upset about losing the contact. I unbutton her jeans and hear the distinct sound of her zipper being pulled down as I tug it towards me. She's wearing a simple pair of underwear that matches the bra it seems. I pull the jeans down and she lifts her hips to help me.

She's still wearing her shoes from work so I pull them off and throw them behind me. The jeans meet the floor and I drink in the sight of her only in her underwear. She's a vision.

She is absolutely loveliest thing I've ever seen in my life. Beauty isn't even a tenth of the necessary word to describe her. She's positively exquisite and unequaled. I could spend the rest of my pitiful life walking the earth for something as alluring as her and I'd never find it.

Once my eyes are done with their roaming I bring my hands to my pants and undo the button. I'm about to pull down the zipper when she stops me.

"I want to do this part," she purrs.

I relinquish and allow her to tug the zipper down and pull my pants from work down. My boxers are now exposed as well as my engorged member. Her eyes stop on my erection for a moment but she continues to pull the pants away.

Once my shoes and socks are in the way I step off the bed and remove the rest of my clothing. I'm now naked before her. I'm naked before her in more ways than she will ever know. This moment means so much more for me.

Months and months of trying to deny myself of loving the woman of my dreams has finally led me to this. She sits up and reaches forward pulling me towards her. I climb on top once again and kiss her deeply. There is no urgency. Pure love.

My hands move to the sides of her underwear and I peel them away. I can smell her arousal. Once the article of clothing is away I stare at her. Something extremely important occurs to me.

"We need a condom. I can't if you do—," her tiny hand covers my mouth.

"I'm on the pill. Just shut up and stop thinking."

I smile at her. She smiles in response and presses her lips to mine. My hardened member brushes against her entrance and she gasps. I chuckle at the thought of being able to receive those sorts of reactions.

"Edward, please. I need you inside of me now," she pleads in moan.

A nod once and shove one hard thrust into her wet core. She cries out at the sensation. My own eyes snap shut as I fight for control.

I know that if I weren't to come tonight and she did it would still be the greatest sex of my life. I'm rather certain I will though. It feels as though I'm ready to combust with my release already. I slid back carefully and thrust into her again.

The same process continues for a while until her moans tell me she needs more. Her legs lock around my waist and it draws me even deeper into her. I'm sheathed in her warmth and I can hardly contain myself. She's so tight.

"Harder, please," she begs.

My thrusts become my forceful and I pick up the pace. Her hips buck and meet my every thrust. It's a perfect rhythm.

I'm growing more and more tired as the minutes pass by but I can't bring myself to release yet. I can't. Not yet. I still need to be inside of her. I won't allow myself to. She whimpers and cries out as I pound into her core relentlessly.

I shift and angle myself so I can drive myself deeper. I want to hit her spot. I want to make her feel like she's never felt before. I want her to only think about me just the same way I only think of her. There isn't a second that passes by that I'm not thinking about her.

My hand removes itself from her waist and holds onto the headboard for dear life. I need to keep steady. I can feel her walls start to clench and my innards become tighter with my own release. I want us to come together. I want her release to mix into mine.

"Love, come for me," I beg her.

"Oh, God Edward! Right there!" she cries out.

My thrusts are still coming.

"Fuck! Harder!"

My pace increases dramatically. My hips are pounding towards hers. The sound of skin slapping against one another, my grunts and the rain is the only thing you can hear. I know she's getting close.

"Scream my name, Bella. Scream my name when you come."

I continue thrusting until I feel her explode around my member.

"Edward!" she screams.

Feeling her release sends me off the cliff I've been standing at forever. We come together. I grunt loudly and spill my seed into her.

Spent, I pull out and collapse at her side. I lay back, my chest heaving up and down. It was the best sex I've ever had in my life. It was all my frustrations with life and love. It was the love I feel for the woman to my right and passion that I've kept bottled up for months. My love wasn't in vain. She loved me as well. My affections were returned and the feeling was mutual.

She leans over and presses her head and right hand on my chest. My right arm wraps around her waist to bring her closer. I place a kiss on her hair and rub her arm with my left hand absentmindedly. She's so soft. I've never touched anything as soft as her.

"I love you Edward Anthony Masen," she whispers.

"I love you Isabella Marie Swan. Forever and with all my heart," I promise.

So, should I continue? It was my first lemon as well...so I want feedback!