This is my twenty-fifth story. I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: Why the heck would Stephenie Meyer write a foreplay scene in a tent? Okay, I know we came close, but still.

Two cold arms wrapped around my waist. I turned away from the stove, where I was currently boiling some water for spaghetti, to face Edward.

"I love you," he whispered into my hair.

I hugged him back and rested my head on his shoulder. Being next to him never ceased to bring me pleasure.

"I love you, so much," he continued, walking me backwards out of the kitchen.

All thoughts of previous activities were deemed null and void as he carried me upstairs to his room. I was dropped on the bed before he went to lock the door. It seemed silly to do that, however, seeing as the rest of the family was out hunting.

He crawled on top of my upright figure and pushed me back with a kiss. One of his hands rested on my waist and the other came up to hold my head. My hands found their way to his hair, running through the messiness.

When he broke away to let me breath, his lips traveled farther down, kissing my shoulders, chest, and stomach through the shirt. Despite the lack of contact, the pressure left a trail of fire across my torso. Furthermore, the heat at my core felt like a fire – dying to be let loose and put out. Release was at the front of my mind.

As his kisses continued to lay waste to my body, the room grew hotter. By the time his lips finally met mine again, the temperature had risen at least five degrees. It was burning up in here.

I relaxed into his gentle hold and let him do what he pleased. Not that I could've moved an inch – I was completely dazzled, floating in the space right above my body.

Both his hands reached under my shirt and massaged their way across every inch of my skin. The cold of his touch was the release I craved so desperately. In one last effort to get it, my hips shot upward and rubbed against his body, earning a gorgeous moan from the beautiful creature.

Two hands went back down to my waist and pushed me onto the bed again.

"Stay," he growled.

I did as commanded, all too happy to remain motionless if it meant some sweet release.

His hands made their way back up and found my breasts. I moaned in pleasure as he rubbed them lightly through the fabric of my bra. The touch was still delicious.

Ever so slowly, he ran back down my stomach and paused at the top of my jeans. In a clear effort to torture me, he pulled at the tip of the fabric.

"Edward," I complained.

He kissed my belly and smiled into my stomach as the button came undone.

"EDWARD ANTHONY MASEN CULLEN!" Esme's voice called angrily from down the stairs.

Edward leapt from his current position and out the door. Still trying to catch my breath, I remained in bed and listened.

"Look at what happened."

I tried to figure out what she was talking about.

"I'm sorry. Got a bit carried away."

Then it hit me. The stove! I had left the stove on when we came upstairs. A fire had probably started. That would certainly explain the extreme heat.

"What are we going to do about the furniture? Everything is soaked!"

I cringed at her words. I had burned their furniture? I felt terrible for being so careless. And 'soaked?' Perhaps they had used water from the river to end the fire. Come to think of it, I had never seen any fire extinguishers in the house. Then again, vampires probably wouldn't find much use for them. It's a good thing the family had come home.

"Well, as far as furniture goes, Alice would be happy to buy you a new couch."