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My Angel

Summary:
Rosalie is Emmett's angel. A/N: You'll need this for awhile.


Notes:
This does not belong to me, it belongs to Stephenie Meyer.


15. Freakish Tree Banging

Rating 5/5   Word Count 1116   Review this Chapter

There was something about his eyes. Something in them that flickered and sparkled like tiny golden embers in a dying fire. It was his eyes that made me save him. They glowed. They begged me to help him, to give him another chance at the life he had destroyed so badly. I hadn't known it then, but those eyes were the one thing that would solve everything.

And now, as I sat awkwardly on the rickety tree branch next to him, his eyes pleaded with me. They begged to be able to sparkle and dance with joy again.

I knew that they could only do that again if I talked. And he talked. And we forgot about the stupid, adulterous things David had made us do.

"Emmett?" I offered, hand outstretched and shaking.

He looked up, eyes void of any emotion.

"Rosalie."

I shifted along the branch until I was next to him, our hands barely touching. Without thinking, his fingers traced over my hand, flickering over his ring.

"I didn't want to..." I started.

He looked down at his knees. I rested my head in his lap, my arms wrapped around him, fingers tracing over the tense contours of his muscled back.

"I didn't either," he said finally.

"Looked like you were pretty into it," I giggled.

He glared at me and unwrapped my arms. I let them drop uselessly at my sides.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean that," I apoligized.

He raised his eyebrows and sighed. I wrapped my arms around him again, tugging at the back of his shirt.

"I know," he laughed.

"So...We're good?"

"Yeah. We're good."

I smiled, still pulling at his worn-in gray T-shirt.

"What?"

"Nothing..."

"No, it's definitely something."

"It's nothing." He snorted.

"Lies."

"Okay then. You tell me: What is it that I want?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. Tell me."

"Well. I could assume that you wanted to wear my shirt. Or maybe you just want to see me with it off. OR. There's always the possibility that you want to have some sort of freakish make-up, tree sex."

I laughed.

"Freakish?"

"You don't think it's freakish to bang someone in a tree?"

I laughed even harder, but still pulled the soft fabric of his shirt over his head and tossed it to the ground.

"Hey!" he protested.

"You won't need it anytime soon if I have anything to do with it," I promised.

I sat up, only to softly press my lips to his. But as I flopped back down, he caught my face between his strong hands and held it to his bare chest.

I sighed. His perfectly muscled, pale chest glimmered faintly in the soft sunlight that barely shone through the dense trees above.

I breathed in, letting the beautiful scent of my angel linger in my head. I looked up to meet his eyes.

Once again, they begged me. Begged me to let him redeem himself. But didn't he get that I already had? Already had forgotten?

That's one of the things about my kind I can't stand. Each and every memory remains, as vivid as it was when it first arrived in your head. You never forget. Anything.

Eventhough you pretend that it's gone, the memory will always be there. There to taunt you as you think. There to remind you of everything that you thought you'd be able to forget. But you know that you can't. You can't forget. Anything.

"Rosy?"

I snapped out of my thoughts and back to my reality.

"Yeah?"

"Can you do something for me?"

"Anything."

"Kiss me."

"Can I ask why?"

He hesitated.

"No."

"But why-"

"Just do it."

"Fine."

And with that, I grabbed both sides of his face and pulled him closer to me.

"Now?" I breathed.

"Yeah," he gasped, trying to focus on my face and tame his wandering eyes.

I moved closer. So close, our lips brushed against each other as I spoke.

"Now?"

"Yeah," he breathed, eyes smoldering.

"Alright then."

Finally, I pressed my lips to his. I started to pull back, but he held my lips to his desperately.

"Rosalie," he moaned as his tongue met with mine.

I ran my fingers through his thick, curly hair, feeding off his moans and sharp breaths. His hands felt blindly for my shirt, desperate for my help.

I pulled my lips away, but only for the briefest instant before I pressed them to his neck. I pulled the stretchy fabric of my shirt over my head. He grabbed it and dropped it to join his shirt on the ground.

"Hey!-"I protested.

He pressed his finger to my lips.

Shhh...You won't be needing that for awhile," he insisted.

I took his hand and kissed the center of it. He pulled me against him, fingers dancing over the buttons of my jeans.

"You do realize it's still daylight, don't you?"

He kissed my ear and then my collar bones and nose before responding.

"So?"

"So what are we doing tonight?"

He thought for a moment, kissing me once more.

"I was thinking somewhere along the lines of this. But minus the jeans with five buttons."

"You don't like my jeans?" I teased, kissing his neck.

"They're designed to make my job a lot harder," he decided finally.

"Your job? As what?"

"As the guy in this relationship, I am granted full rights to taking off your (the girl's) pants. Those buttons are just there to cause trouble for me."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Well those shorts are just asking to be taken off. Look at them. They're baggy and have elastic to hold them up instead of buttons."

"You're welcome."

I smacked him playfully, but he caught my hand and placed it on his neck. I ran my fingers over the thin silver chain that hung around his neck.

"We should head back," Emmett whispered, his breath tickling my ear.

"Can't we just stay here? And do... stuff some more?"

He groaned. I locked eyes with him, silently pleading to stay.

"Fine. But you are staying quiet. Eyes closed, head on my lap. Are we clear?"

"Why?"

"We can't be heard. It's risky in the sun like this.."

"Fine then."

"Plus, this way I can touch you all I want and not worry about me making noise and giving us away."

"I can touch you too," I reminded him, settling down in his lap.

"Yeah, but I can control myself when you're down there."

"Suit yourself."

"Just shut up and let me kiss you again."

"Gladly."

He leaned down to kiss me and I held him there until I needed to see his eyes again.

They were still glowing. Pleading for something silently. But what?

On the back of a motorbike, with your arms outstretched trying to take flight. Leaving everything behind. But even at our swiftest speed, we couldn't break from the concrete in the city where we still reside. And I have learned that even landlocked lovers yearn for the sea like Navy men. And now we say goodnight from our own seperate sides like brothers on a hotel bed.