When Jasper and Alice's love isn't always so spiritual...
It had only taken a month for Edward's praise to come pouring in. Why can't you be more like Alice and Jasper? Good Lord must you do that in public? I'm going to sit with Jasper and Alice. At least there are two vampires in this house who have some decorum. And so on it went.
He was, it seemed, under the impression that theirs was a spiritual, more mystical type of love than the likes of which was displayed by Miss Rosalie and her big lug of a husband. Sure, he wasn't wrong, but Jasper would have to smile whenever this attitude of the young man's reared its head. Alice was the other half of his soul. He knew her mind like he knew his own. There was no one who understood her, or who understood him in return, better. But heck, he wasn't blind.
Alice Whitlock (as she was known purely in private) was a vixen of the first order.
It was in that tiny, tiny cock of her hip that would make her skirts swish just so. It was in the point of one delicate foot showing the lovely smooth shape of her legs. It was in the twitch of her lips and set of her jaw when she watched him out of the corner of her eye. It was in the path of her finger tips when she'd insist on fixing his tie and collar.
Since she'd taken his hand in Jerry Joe's all those years ago he been hooked on her. And he'd be lying if he said it didn't drive him crazy to know he inspired the same within her.
They weren't obvious about it, no. But when they'd had enough of domestic bliss for a while, and the wandering spirits in them took hold they'd find each other in the wilderness of wherever they had ended up that day and they'd relish every second, every sigh, every sight.
He'd never though he'd escape that hell in Monterry, and there were so many times when she'd been afraid he would never find her. Nothing could ever be enough, and yet the small little things were so satisfying. Yet all the same, they craved each other, and they would for all time.