He didn't want her and she simply would not have that.
Ah, now is the winter of their discontent.
Pure ice stares at him from the doorframe and Edward knows that even in life Rosalie Hale's once vibrant violet eyes never radiated warmth.
She breaks her trance and glances at the book he is clutching.
"Genesis?" the irony is not lost to her shallow mind, "Really, Edward?"
No response.
"You know, immersing yourself in tales of angels and saints won't make you any less of a demon."
This time she hits a nerve.
His head snaps up and before the millisecond it would take for him to spit back some acidic retort, Rosalie's lips are on his.
Her hands are grasping at the ribs of his torso; they anchor her as she draws herself forward. She positions herself on his lap, legs snaking around him, clenching her calves behind the high back of the Windsor chair.
Rosalie is all biting teeth and flicking tongue and dear Edward is paralyzed beneath her. Whether it was an act of succumbing to the incessancy of her persistence or the release of something else he wasn't sure. He is finally numb and finds he welcomes it without resistance.
Edward is no idiot. He can read her ill-guarded thoughts and see the intentions behind her advance. He knows it is some tangled combination of lust and vanity and avarice that is driving her to crush her pelvis into his.
Choose your sin. Pick your poison.
When he winds his fingers into her flaxen waves and she moans his name against the hollow of his throat, Rosalie's calculating thoughts suddenly still and Edward realizes that something is quite amiss in this balanced Eden of egotism and surrender.
Another grind of her hips sends the book falling to the floor, pages being crushed under the weight of the books covers. The flimsy parchment is no match for the intense pressure of the leather-bound face; the aged papers bend but do not break.
Scheming Eve and Adam's inevitable fall from grace.
The friction is now a searing knife wound; the pain too sharp and quick for the body to immediately recognize it. But when it finally does, oh, the sensation has Edward pushing back from her with inhuman force.
Rosalie is on her feet and halfway towards the door before he can even open his eyes.
Satisfied smirk with nose upturned she exits the room without so much as a backward glance.
She calls out, "Not even you can be virtuous all the time. Go ahead, resist me."
If you can.