It only took me a week to update. Sorry. Please rate/comment/whatev.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. I'm not Stephanie Meyer, but how awesome would it be if I was?

"It would have been easier if you took off your dress before getting your hair wet."

I couldn't see Edward's face when he said this, considering I was huddled over the sink like a hunchback, but I could tell he was amused. I took his advice and ran my hardened mass of hair under the cold water of the sink for a couple minutes, trying (desperately) to loosen it. Edward watched me from the doorway, humoured at my ridiculous attempts to fix my hair without having to take off my wedding dress.

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn't see it and therefore he couldn't appreciate my withering sarcasm. "Thank you for pointing that out." I didn't want to tell him that the real reason why I didn't take off my wedding dress was because I didn't know how to take it off. I had lots of help getting into it this morning and I wasn't quite ready to take it off yet. It was hard enough getting it on, and I doubted that Edward had magically become an expert on women's clothing overnight.

"Do you need some help?" He asked, trying and failing to hide the delight in his voice.

YES!! My inner-voice was pleading for help.

"No. I don't need any help," I said as politely as I could manage with half of my head submerged underwater. The hairspray had been long removed from my scalp. The only thing that was delaying me was the sad, sad fact that I couldn't find a way to get out of the sink without permanently damaging either myself or the wedding dress...maybe even both. I definitely hadn't thought this plan through.

Suddenly he was behind me, one hand on the small of my back, the other hand was draping an unknown object over my shoulders. "Stand up." Only Edward could make a command sound gentle.

"Uhmm..." I still wasn't confident in Edward's unknown plan to rescue me and my precious wedding dress from the vicious sink monster.

"It's okay," he coaxed. "Stand up." He guided me up and gently fixed my hair on the towel that he had draped over my shoulders. In one swift move, my soaking wet hair was successfully pulled up in a towel and no longer in danger of damaging my wedding dress.

I glanced sideways at the mirror. Before the wedding, I felt like a child who was playing dress-up as a bride. Now, I looked ridiculous in such an elegant wedding dress with my makeup running and my hair pulled up like a Ms. Chiquita (minus the fruit).

He followed my gaze and laughed harder than I had heard all night.

"I'm glad you find this so entertaining," I muttered bitterly.

Before I could even blink he was at my throat, tracing a searing line to my lips with his ice-cold lips. Finally, his lips found what they were searching for. He delivered a scorching kiss, eyes blazing but his lips as icy as ever. By the time he was finished, I was panting again.

"Do I finally have permission to get you out of that ridiculous dress?" He asked quietly, his eyes burning into mine.

I wanted to explain to him that the dress wasn't ridiculous, but I didn't trust myself with whole words, let alone intelligent phrases and complex sentences. I settled on nodding my head feebly.

We were back in his room so quickly, that I was almost confident we had transported there. He spun me around and started smoothly undoing the intricate lacing in the back, proving my "Edward didn't know his way around women's clothing" theory disturbingly wrong. He worked painfully slow, as if he were disabling a bomb- delicately releasing me from my silk and lace cage.

"I still haven't finished explaining my rules." He reminded me cautiously, as if waiting for me- the bomb encased in ruffled ivory fabric- to explode. To his surprise, I wouldn't explode. Correction: I couldn't explode. I was content to stand in his bedroom- his hands gently caressing my back through my slip as he worked his way down the lacing.

"Rule Two: When you say stop, I will stop." He paused waiting for me too argue, but I was too drugged by his presence to put up a good fight. Besides the rule seemed sensible enough. "That means that you will need to take precautions for your safety as well."

That shook me out of my semi-coma a little bit. What kind of precautions was he talking about?

"Like what?" I tried to sound more confused than angry, because I didn't want to ruin the nice atmosphere that had lulled me into submission before.

"Remembering to breathe, for one..." He couldn't repress the laughter in his voice at the painful memory of our 2nd kiss- the one where I honestly forgot to breathe.

I cringed. "Okay...fair enough. Rule 3?" I asked begrudgingly.

"Rule 3: You have to tell me what you want." He stated carefully, gauging my reaction. I was a little confused, because I had no idea what he was referring to. "I'm not a mind-reader, Bella...," he paused, realising the contradiction in his statement. "Okay, that's a lie. I can't read your mind, so I have no idea what you are thinking."

As he spoke, his hands left my back and the dress slipped down to my ankles. I obediently stepped out of the dress. I was still wearing a slip, but I felt naked without the abundant fabric of my wedding dress covering my body.

He left my side to hang up my dress. He carefully relaced the dress, even though it would probably never be worn again. As ridiculous as it sounded, I kind of missed it. It nauseated me when I first laid my eyes on it. It was strapless with a severe a-line skirt, so it looked like a funnel with a tiny top and a voluminous, layered skirt. Naturally, since Alice was involved, there was plenty of lace and frills decorating the bodice. It was so intimidating, even though it sort of reminded me of a demented marshmallow. It was so much prettier and more delicate looking than I. For that reason, I despised it. As Edward was hanging it up, I glanced at it again. It looked limp and empty. Instead of hate, I felt pity towards it.

Suddenly, I realised that Edward wasn't at the closet anymore. My eyes scanned the room, yearning for him. It didn't take me long to find him. He was standing in a corner gazing at me with a peculiar expression on his face. Then, he was a blur of colour as he came streaking towards me, his lips at my throat. I didn't flinch- my reflexes seemed to be aware of the fact that he wasn't a threat. He started kissing at my cheek, then traced a trail down to my neck.

"You're so..." he paused, as if searching for the right word. "You're so...warm," he murmured into my collarbone. I frowned, thinking of a bucketful of other adjectives he could have injected into the sentence- beautiful, sexy, gorgeous etc. I guess warm would have been the most accurate, wherever he touched me my blood seemed to boil. He, however, seemed to be getting colder- if that was possible. I was surprised that his fingertips didn't melt as they caressed my searing skin. I half-expected them to sizzle, leaving cold, watery trails.

Too soon, always too soon, he slowly pulled away- leaving me gasping and breathless.

He spun me around so that he was facing the back of my head and started fiddling with the clasp of the pearl necklace I was wearing.

I could feel his icy breath in my ear. I held my breath, anticipating his words. When he finally spoke, his voice was like silk- soft and irresistible. After all this time, it could still melt my core and make my knees shake. "Now, let's discuss rule 4..."