A/N: Took a bit long, but I'm here. I've been working on my new story a lot. It hits close to home, so I can write more freely. ***So, I don't want to give much away, but I'll remind all of you that this is rated M for a reason (or a lot of reasons). That's all. Enjoy. :)

Who Am I?

Chapter 10: Know Me

BPOV

"E-Edward," I stuttered, "you should leave." He sat down and put his head in his hands between his legs.

"Bella, I don't know what to do." He shook his head, his hands clenching his ears. "This is harder than I thought it would be," he admitted. I scoffed.

"What? Your stupid conquest of your boss's wife?" I sneered, forgetting any pretense of kindness he'd previously displayed. "Are you upset to find out I wasn't as easy as you hoped, that I'm not a fast lay? The few days I've been back too long for you?" Edward's head slammed into the air, followed by the rest of his body.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he snarled, glued to his spot before me. I just stared at him, my eyes hopefully glaring. I couldn't be sure what my body did when he was around. "You... You kissed me back," he accused. His eyes scrutinized my face with an intensity that made me want to cry. I looked away. "Why... You..." he mumbled before letting his head fall back, hands muffling his voice. "Why are you doing this to me?" he asked the ceiling, scrubbing his face free of dead skin cells.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I shot back. His gaze snapped back to mine and he stepped to remove the space between us.

"Because I love you," he admitted. "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you," he confessed. I stared at his mouth. Those words were coming from the wrong lips, but they felt so right. Then again, what girl didn't like being told she was loved, especially from someone as attractive as the man in front of me?

"Bullshit," I tried to call his bluff, desperately wanting to be right and wrong at the same time. He took one step toward me and cocked his head.

"Isabella," he began, his eyes gliding across the silhouette of my darkened features. The den was still bathed in black. "What will it take? What will it take for you to believe me?" He took another step. I shrugged and darted my eyes around me, looking for something I might use against him if he got too physical... or maybe violent like Mike.

"I don't cheat," I answered him, boring a long look into his eyes. He let out a singular laugh, taking another step closer. He'd covered half the distance between us in those three strides.

"You know," he began, mirth clouding his eyes, "that's what you said the first time we made love." I shivered. 'Made love' wasn't the type of phrase I took lightly. "Back then, you'd been horrified at me... at us. You'd stormed around my room, looking for your clothes, when you turned to me and started crying. You kept sobbing 'I don't cheat' until I took you in my arms." He brushed one hand over his arm, feeling the supposed memory of me in his arms that he conjured for me. It sounded like something I would do, but it couldn't be. I closed my eyes, hoping to recollect something of the same memory, but found nothing. "I tried to rationalize it for you, but there wasn't much I could say. Back then I had no clue about Mike. I'd just started working at the office a few months before." I opened my eyes to his shaking head. He was closer to me now, plotting out his strides strategically.

"I'm married," I breathed, knowing my words would make no difference to him. I had to put it out there. The words hung in the air. Edward just kept talking. He was right in front of me now.

"You got used to us, though, and started to get comfortable." He took my left hand and started playing with my wedding and engagement rings, spinning them around before taking them off and dropping them on the floor. They collided on the wood with a loud, echoing ping in the quiet room. "Every time we'd finish making love, you'd kiss my chin before rolling away from me." He grasped his chin. "Every time," he confirmed. "Right there." He reached to find the right spot below my lips.

"Stop," I whispered, bringing my hands up to push him away. I wasn't going to sink again. I wasn't going to fall for his games anymore. He stood there, just inches away from my face, drinking me in. He stepped back and brought his hand down to the side of my stomach, staring, his expression unreadable. His thumb grazed back and forth. His touch made me tingle. I stiffened.

"I," he started, taking a moment to breathe. "I'll never stop."

"Edward," I began, thinking my words through. "You're so...," I struggled to form words I'd learned to say twenty years ago. He was confusing, frustrating, sweet, manipulative, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything. Edward's brow pulled together. He still stared at my stomach. "Tell me about myself," I challenged, raising a brow. He still wasn't looking at me. His lips began to move.

"Your favorite color is lavender; your favorite food is spaghetti; your weakness is a slice of pecan pie; you always sleep on the left side of the bed; you swear like a sailor; you've read Wuthering Heights and Pride and Prejudice a million times, but you love reading trashy novels for your own amusement; you like to walk to the wildlife refuge and sit on the log bench near the aviary just to listen to the birds while you read; you could live on cheese, all kinds of cheese: mozzarella, cheddar, jack, even Limburger; you're not a very good driver, even though you'd defend yourself to the grave; you've been trying to knit a sweater for me, but failing miserably; your favorite animal is a koala." He paused to take a breath, but I brought his head up to look him in the eyes. He was crying. I hadn't even realized.

"Stop," I whispered again. It was an impressive display of knowledge. I tried to sift through what he told me to determine what was real, what a lover would know of another lover. He kept going, this time looking straight into my eyes.

"You want to have three kids, so you can love the middle child the most; you can't stand pickles; you've always wanted a younger brother; you love me; we've been together for almost a year and you still think I don't love you as much as you love me; you like to be called Isabella because your biological father called you 'Bella' as a child," he whispered. My mind was dizzy. He took a deep breath before continuing. "You hate your biological father because he ran off on you and your mom, so you married the first guy you thought would never leave you." I gasped and started to process everything he'd just said. It all took on new meaning when he mentioned my biological dad. It was all true. I couldn't recall some of it, like the aviary or the sweater, but most of it was me... the eighteen year old girl who jumped off a cliff to be free, who kept a rusty truck because it had character, who read books like Wuthering Heights and Pride and

Prejudice for fun, who was afraid of being abandoned. It sounded exactly like me, but why could've happened that I'd gotten so desperate with Mike? Edward just stared at me.

"I... I've never told anyone about my dad," I whispered, tears leaving salty trails down my face. Edward's hand traveled up the side of my stomach and cupped my face.

"I know." He didn't lean in to kiss me. He just stood there and stared. My head spun at his proximity. I stared at his lips.

I grabbed the collar of his shirt with my injured hand and pulled him to me, crushing his lips with my own. He didn't hesitate at all and slipped his tongue to meet mine. I pushed him back to the couch that he was sitting on when I came in. He stumbled back and fell onto the couch. I fell with him, not breaking the kiss, and straddled his lap. Our mouths found an easy pattern. I scraped his bottom lip with my teeth and rubbed myself into his lap.

"Ah," he groaned, and started kissing my neck. I rocked back and forth against his erection, flipping my head up to face the ceiling.

"Mm," I moaned and found his mouth again. I couldn't get enough of him. His confession was fueling my heat. His hands found my hips and helped guide my movements while his hips lifted to push into mine. My right hand left his hair and found the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and completely off with my arm sling. Edward's hands moved right under my bra to my breasts. I discarded that, too.

Our breathing was harsh, our moans virtually silent. His mouth would open and hiss when I'd expect a loud moan, like when I turned his body to lay down on the couch and ground into him. Even my sounds were muted. My moans were low, deep growls or high, squeaking hisses.

I started working the buttons on his pants with one hand while he pulled off his shirt. My hand lingered on his tent and his head leaned painfully into the couch. I pushed both his pants and boxers off at the same time, not bothering to ogle the size of him before pulling myself up to kiss him. I ran my hands over his sculpted stomach and chest as his hands unbuttoned my jeans. He was careful not to touch my broken arm. I ignored the burning in my hand. He used his feet to push my jeans off, and, with the lack of support, my hips fell into his erection. I rubbed my core into him and gasped.

"Good grief," He groaned. I brought myself up to suck on his earlobe.

"Isabella," he whispered, his hands gripping my back. "Are you sure about this?"

No. I nodded, too far gone to care about anything but him. "Yes," I gasped out, placing my injured fist on his chest and positioning myself right above his penis, moving around a bit to tease him.

"Oh, God, don't do that," he moaned, pulling his hand over his eyes. I giggled and pushed him into me slowly. My mouth opened and trembled as my walls slowly adjusted to him, pushing further and further apart for his size. Suddenly, Edward seized my body and carefully flipped us over so he was above me. He pushed the rest of the way into me roughly, and I bit down on his shoulder to muffle my sounds. We stayed that way for a few seconds, just panting.

"Go, go," I urged him, seeking friction. That set him off. He pulled himself almost all the way out and thrust into me once. I squeaked and let my head fall back onto the couch behind me. He started to thrust at a regular pace, letting me push up into him.

"Fu-ck," I stuttered in between thrusts. I couldn't think about anything but this feeling. My stomach was slowly burning and coiling. His head fell into the crook of my neck.

"Ah, huh, shit," he grumbled. He thrusts started to quicken, fueling the burn in the pit of my stomach. I scratched at his back, pushing him into me, still meeting him thrust for thrust.

"Oh, oh," I breathed out with each thrust. His hand grasped my leg and pushed it up to lean against my chest. He thrust into me harder at this new angle, and I moaned loudly for once. He groaned and rocked into me even faster. "God, Edward," I gasped. "Ah, harder, faster," I pleaded, my voice shaking.

He grunted and dug his feet into the couch cushion for leverage to push harder.

The couch rocked and squeaked loudly under our movements. The coiling in my stomach tightened further, and I knew I was getting close. I started whispering his name with each thrust.

"I'm going to- I'm gonna," I tried to explain, but Edward claimed my lips with his just as the coil released and my head started spinning. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. My body started twitching, and Edward let out a grunt as he met his own release, emptying himself into me. His forehead leaned onto mine while he whispered my name, my full name. We both stilled and stayed like that for what seemed like hours, staring at each other.

"That was... I..." I let my sentence fall, knowing he'd know what I meant. He nodded slowly and pulled himself out of me.

"You should," he began, looking away from me, "You should go back to bed." My brows dipped. "Mike might wake up and go looking for you," he explained. My eyes widened as I remembered: I was married to Mike Newton and I'd just had sex with

Edward Cullen. My eyes started to burn with the realization of who I really was.

"I am a cheater," I sobbed, letting my tears pour through. Edward was next to me so fast that I felt a slight breeze.

"Isabella, please, don't do this to your self," he begged, brushing my tears away. "We've already been through this part." I shook my head, disgusted with myself. I'd married Mike for the wrong reasons and I'd been cheating on him. I couldn't believe who I turned out to be. This wasn't who eighteen-year old Bella wanted to be. She wanted to marry the love of her life.

"I'm a whore," I confessed, standing up to retrieve my clothing. Edward stood up with me and grabbed my good arm.

"If I ever hear those words come from your mouth again, I swear to God,

Isabella," he growled, pulling me into him. "You are anything but a whore." I shook my head against his chest and pulled myself away.

"No, no, I can't do this right now. I need you to go. I need to go to Mike. I need to think about this. This has gotten... so out of hand," I told him as I pulled on my clothes. He started pulling on his own clothes, never taking his eyes off of me. I looked away.

"I love you." He'd let some of his own tears trickle down his beautiful face. "Just please don't forget that," his voice broke. I couldn't look at him. How could I love anyone when I hated myself so much? He pulled my face to his and placed a chaste kiss on my lips before sulking out the door.

I waited until I heard the apartment door click shut before tiptoeing back into my bedroom and slipping under the covers to cry myself to sleep.

A/N: She's confused. She's always confused. That was some lightly sweetened lemonade, wasn't it? Haha, I didn't want to douse all of you with sugar... unless you want to be. Tell me in your reviews.

Also, review for a preview of the next chapter AND don't forget to R&R my new story Snap, please.

Until next time,

Erin (erinjeni)