Hello! I'm back with another chapter - and this one's a long one. Thank you all for sticking with me :)

And just quickly; there's a fanfic story I read which was so genius that I got lightheaded from holding my breath so much. You must must must read. And bug the author to update the sequel, too =) Here's the link with spaces: www. fanfiction .net/s/4194120/1/

ISABELLA SWAN

Vanessa came home on Saturday. Lucky for her, Charlie was home for lunch when she came waltzing through the door, so I couldn't reach out and throttle her skinny neck like I wanted to. Her excuse was none too original – "I stayed with a friend in Seattle."

"You couldn't have called?" Charlie snapped, but I could hear the overwhelming relief in his voice. I could only imagine the scenarios his mind might have painted for him during the frequent silences in the house. They would have to have been similar to the ones I'd suffered.

Vanessa shrugged. "Every time I tried there was an engaged signal."

Fortunately for her, that would have been true if she'd actually tried to phone us. Charlie's ear had almost melted into the earpiece while she'd been away.

"Bella's phone? The station? You really should have called!"

"Whoa Charlie, chill. I was fine. I didn't think it was a big deal – I would have been trying to get through to you that desperately if something was wrong. But it wasn't." She held up her arms and did a turn on the spot. "I'm fine, see? Nothing missing or maimed."

Charlie bristled his top lip. "While you live under my roof, Vanessa, I will have to punish you deservingly."

"But you wouldn't deny me the opportunity to get to know my peers by grounding me, would you Charlie?" She was batting her damned eyelashes. Ugh. I would say that I wished it wouldn't work on him – but the puppy-eyed look had gotten me out of many punishments in the past. And undoubtedly future ones, too.

And Charlie folded like origami. "No grounding, then. But you have to clean the bathroom for the next month."

"No problem."

Damn it Charlie! She already cleans the bathroom!

I stomped noisily up the stairs to express my distaste, but didn't rat out my cousin. I might want to shake her till her teeth fell out but I still loved her. She was still like a sister.

- - -

ALICE BRANDON

Still Saturday

It was raining. Perhaps that was an omen? I don't know. Forks rains so much it seems way too normal to be considered an omen. But if the sky was bright blue with a rainbow and fluffy white clouds – that would definitely be an omen.

I listened to the sound of the rain – like donut sprinkles hitting a piece of paper. Continuously. I looked beside me, out the window, at how the glass was starting to fog and how the ribbons of water trickled down like elongated tears. Definitely an omen.

"Say something," Jasper whispered. But in the concrete silence it sounded like a shout; my heart kicked again and again at the bones of my ribcage. Thud. Thud. Thud. Kick. Kick. Kick.

"I don't want to," I whispered back, just as blaringly.

He breathed in very quietly, a huge breath that lifted his chin and arched his back. Normally I wouldn't have heard but every sound magnified itself in the cabin of my Porsche, where we sat now. Silent and still and dripping, in Jasper's case.

I'd called him, told him I was coming over. He sounded far too happy about that. When I arrived, he came out to meet me with an umbrella, and beckoned for me to get out. He'd been smiling. The last of a million times, I think.

"I know you need to. Or you wouldn't have come." He sounded so sad now. I could feel the absence of warmth between us – not cold, just not warm. Like there was a wall. "Please, Alice."

Don't say my name. It makes it harder.

"Don't leave me hanging."

I shut my eyes, determined not to cry. "I don't know what to say – how to say this." The tears were acidic behind my lids. "I can't –"

"Don't. Please don't." He was whispering.

I forced the words out, and pretended it was someone else speaking. I couldn't believe what I was doing.

"I can't be in this relationship right now."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"No." And I don't ever want to. Hug me. Stop me. Cover your ears and run from me. Please.

"Then what? What are you doing?" He was frustrated; confused. He hated being confused. I still hadn't opened my eyes so it was easier to do this without seeing the brokenness in his face.

"I think we should go on a break." Silence. Stretched silence. Still silent. I opened my eyes and forced myself to look – but he wasn't looking at me. His head was bowed and his eyes were closed, just the way I had been a moment ago. "Jasper?"

"For how long?" Still whispering. Still not looking at me.

I took this opportunity to stare shamelessly at him, appreciate all the things I hadn't appreciated before. "As long as it takes."

"As long as it takes for what?!"

I shouldn't have been staring – because he looked at me now and his eyes would not let me go. My cheeks were cold. My lungs weren't going fast enough. Can't. Breathe.

"Don't stop talking now," he snapped. Mad, mad, mad. My fault.

I closed my eyes when his hands brushed tears away and stayed on my face. "I'm sorry," I apologised.

"No, Alice, don't say this." He sounded determined now. But he knew it was fruitless. "I want to help, I want to be here for you, I need you…" He trailed off, his hands still searching my skin, brushing my hair back and touching my neck, my ears, my cheeks, my lips. And repeat.

I started to blubber now, my teeth biting my lip too hard and making it bleed. I barely felt the sting, I just tasted the warmth.

"Don't cry," but he was crying too. I could hear it, see it. Feel it.

Time to let go. "I'll explain this when the time is right. I love you too much to keep doing this to you." That last part was true.

He wasn't giving up. "You're not being fair! Talk to me, Ali, tell me what's upsetting you!"

Still crying. Lie, Alice, I told myself. Lie.

"I need you to go, Jasper." My voice broke on his name. It must have known what I was doing. Liar, liar, pants on fire. "Just go."

I turned away from him, folding my hands under my elbows and crushing them there to stop myself reaching for him. I shut my eyes and tried to justify this to myself. Better this way, I chanted in my head. Better for him this way.

I heard the leather creak as he climbed out, and the seconds of louder rain while the door was open. Then the sprinkles were muffled and he was gone. I forced myself to turn on the car, put it in gear and leave.

Don't look back, I instructed myself fiercely. But I did it anyway. He had stepped out onto the road and was staring after the car, clothes dark and clinging and wet, the umbrella limp at his side.

- - -

ROSALIE HALE

Saturday night

"Can I open my eyes yet?"

"No, no peeking."

"But I've been standing here for longer than 'just a minute', Emmett."

He chuckled. "Patience, Rosalie. A minute longer, then you can look."

I sighed and folded my arms. Emmett had asked me to come over to his house for dinner, which I didn't mind and wasn't surprised by – but when I walked in the front door he demanded that I close my eyes. He then carried me up the stairs and in to his bedroom – I knew his house well enough to know we were in his bedroom – and he'd set me down by the door. I'd now been standing with my eyes closed for the past ten minutes while he skittered about doing something that I was yet to discover.

"Hurry up," I said impatiently. He knew I was joking.

"Nearly done… Yes! Open your eyes."

It took a moment for me to adjust to the light, even though it was not bright at all. I looked at him sitting by the table.

It was a small, round, dark brown table with a white lace tablecloth over it. I recognised the two chairs from the dining set downstairs. There were four candles, none of which were lit, but there was a box of matches beside them. There was enough cutlery and plates for two people.

"What's this for?" I asked, grinning, while I walked toward the empty chair.

Emmett jumped up and held it out for me. I smiled wider.

"Nothing in particular. I just remember how very unromantic I am sometimes and I wanted to do something special for you."

I scoffed at the 'unromantic' comment – Emmett was the most romantic guy I'd ever come across, let alone dated. Speaking of which –

"I'm not missing some significant anniversary or anything, am I?" I wondered, mentally scanning my calendar. We must have been dating for about eighteen months now… Oh, crap! I repeated my sentiment out loud. Emmett laughed.

"Don't worry about it, I'm surprised I remembered."

"I'm not," I retorted. Emmett almost counted the hours we were dating – it scared me that he could calculate such things when he acted like such a dork most of the time. "You remember milestones better than I do, and I'm the girl."

Emmett started laughing. "You know, that's probably true, about the milestone thing." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Test me."

I knew what he meant.

"First kiss."

"The first night we met." He smiled proudly, so I leaned over the table and gently kissed him, running a hand playfully back through his hair to make it all stick up.

"First sleepover," I said as he tried to flatten it down again.

"October twelfth."

"First fight."

Emmett wrinkled his nose, but answered regardless. "October thirteenth."

I laughed at that. "I remember that very well, because you wouldn't walk me to my door."

"But Dad was going to kill me if I didn't get the car home quick enough!"

I started laughing. "You looked so frightened that I couldn't stay mad at you for long."

"Too right," he grinned. "I honestly can't believe the capacity of my memory for this stuff. Ask me one more."

I thought for a minute or so, tapping a finger on my chin for show. I decided to be tricky. "The first time we slept together."

His mouth went slack and eyes glazed over. "I, um, well. It must have been, um. You know, that time, when you stayed over my house…"

I made myself look outraged. "You don't remember?" I hissed, trying very hard not to smile.

He looked sheepishly at me. "Was I sober?"

I started laughing, I couldn't help it. He looked so scared.

"Wait up a minute," he said, catching on. "You sneaky little thing!" He jumped up and reached for me, picking my up to make me laugh harder while he feathered my ticklish ribcage.

I roared with laughter and tears started leaking from my eyes. "Your, face," I gasped out. "Too, funny!"

Emmett grumbled something and sat back down, tried to push me off him, but I seized his shirt collar and stayed across his knees. I kissed him nice and sloppily on the cheek, making a big wet sound when I pulled away. His expression was one of amusement but attempted ignorance. I giggled at him.

"So are we eating, or what?" I asked, gesturing to the table spread a few minutes later, when we'd both needed to come up for air. I wiped some pink gloss from the corner of Emmett's mouth with my pinkie.

"Absolutely. I'm cooking, too," he added when I hopped off him to get back in my own seat.

"You cook? I'm shocked. Wait – we're not eating a microwave meal are we?"

"Not a chance."

"Where'd you order out from then?"

He started laughing. "Rosie, Rosie. After you've eaten, then you can ask me if I ordered takeout or not."

Then he disappeared into the hallway, and I heard him whistling in the kitchen between the sounds of pots and pans being moved around.

I sat back and hummed a few songs in my head before I realised I ought to give Emmett a hand. So I headed down the stairs without my shoes on (I'd kicked them off while I'd been waiting with my eyes closed). Emmett heard me when I hit the creaking stair halfway down and I saw him half-appear around the kitchen doorway with a spatula in one hand and an apron wrapped around his middle.

"That's hot," I waved my hand at his chef's hat. And I wasn't joking either…

He waved the spatula at me, sending some crumbs flying across the carpet. "Get back up there. I want to make you dinner on my own, little missy, so go relax and read on my bed or something."

"Thanks for the offer but I'd rather not skim through porn mags, thanks."

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't need those things." One cheek raised in an adorable, dimply half-smile. I wanted to leap on him, but I controlled myself, because I was only halfway down the stairs and would surely break a leg. "I'll bring everything up when it's ready. But I only want you to see the finished product."

"Fine." I pretended to sulk, but turned and dragged my feet up the stairs while he watched. Then I got an idea.

"Oh dear," I said dramatically, stopping near the top stair with my head hanging, looking at my socks. "My socks seem to have fallen down. I simply must pull them up."

Then, making a show of it by going very slow and doing some strategic hair-flicking, I bent to touch my toes without bending my legs, and pulled my socks up, one at a time. I looked at Emmett, up-side down, through my knees. He was so torn that he looked in pain.

So I flicked my hair before straightening up, curved my spine as I did so, and walked up the remaining stairs with a wink over my shoulder. Emmett growled, but forced himself to stay in the kitchen. I laughed under my breath.

Back in his bedroom, it was less than two minutes before I was bored. I'd seen everything in his room before and had never had any reason to look through his stuff because he'd already shown me what was in every drawer and on the other side of every cupboard door. I flopped down on his bed, expecting to be able to lie peacefully for a while where Emmett's warmth seemed to still touch the sheets, but my butt was on top of something hard. Intrigued, I jumped up and pulled back the covers.

It was a big leather photo album, by the looks. Dark brown with black stitching, it looked a bit faded but well-cared for. I doubted I was meant to look at it, but Emmett would have taken it with him if he never wanted me to see it, so I opened the first page and nearly squealed with the force of the girly, gushing, throat-blocking sweetness that overwhelmed me.

'Emmett loves Rosalie', it said in curly writing. There was a photo of the two of us; faces squashed together, both red-lipped with buds of snow in our hair. The page had pieces of ribbon and lace stuck all around the edges in a carefully done border.

He'd made me a scrapbook.

Unbelievably excited, I turned to the next page, and was greeted by a stuck-in pad page with a letter written on it.

Rosalie,

Happy eighteen month anniversary, baby. I never wanted to forget a moment between us, so I made this for you. I hope you like it.

Love you forever,

Emmett xoxoxox

I squealed as quietly as I could and turned the page. Incredible.

There was a photo of the garden in which we had shared our first kiss. Emmett had hand-written a note beside it. The best night of my life. So far.

The sweetness didn't stop coming… for the next page had a picture of the two of us out on the rowboat where we'd had our first date. Emmett had organised a picnic on the water, under the stars. And he'd given me his watch. I still had it, too, on my dressing table at home.

Then, there was a photo of the two of us at school with the cafeteria building in the background. We were leaning on his car with our arms around each other.

Then a photo of all our friends from school. Unfortunately, Mike Newton was in this one, he and Bella with their arms around each other like the couple they had once been. I felt a little sorry for Mike – but he deserved what he got. He tried to get with Bella after she'd told him she wasn't interested, after all.

The next page held a photo of Emmett and I wearing equally horrible Christmas sweaters at my house. Jasper looked pissed off in the background – obviously he and Alice hadn't happened yet – and Jasper also had the remnants of a snowball fight on the back of his bright red and green knitted jumper. I laughed to myself at the memory.

I turned the page and grinned immediately. It was New Year's, and there were streamers and glitter falling all around us. Emmett and I were lip-locked, as you do, one of his arms stretched out toward the camera. I hadn't known this photo had been taken.

The next photo was just the two of us at school again, but this time our hair and faces had the glow attributed to sunlight. It was highly necessary to document the sunny days in Forks, just to remind yourself that they were actually possible. We were wearing our Seniors hoodies. Emmett wasn't looking at the camera in this photo though, he was looking at me. I, oblivious to this, was grinning like a wrinkly pear, my eyes shut tight and teeth bared in an embarrassing way. But for the adoration Emmett had in his eyes, I might have been wearing a ball gown, tiara and had professionally done makeup. I felt my heart clench with the desire to run downstairs and bury him under kisses.

But my curiosity to see what else was in here was too strong.

So I flipped the page. It was my birthday party. I was standing far enough away from the camera that you could see my glorious Jimmy Choo's – and one arm was thrown around a gorilla with a human head. Emmett, of course. He'd dressed up and given me a gorilla-gram. I had almost shut the door on him before I realised it wasn't a prank.

The next couldn't have been taken by Emmett – it must've been Alice. I'd fallen asleep, fully-dressed, on Emmett's bed a few weeks ago. When I woke up Emmett was sleeping next to me, his arms around my middle. I stayed there for a few more hours because I felt so comfortable and warm. The photo was a shot of the both of us while we'd been asleep. Our noses were almost touching. My hair was fanned out on the pillow behind us and Emmett had the elbow of one arm just under my arm pit, with the palm of his hand resting on the back of my head. I stared at this one for a long, long time before I realised there was a very short note next to it.

Definitely the best night of my life.

When I tore my eyes away to look at what was on the next page, I grinned by reaction. It was a shot of every one of the people who'd gone to the cinemas with us ages ago. Port Angeles and Forks buddies alike. There was Ally, Tyler, Paul, Ben, Angela, Kim, Jared, Edward, Bella, Alice, Leah, Sam, Emmett and I. A passing stranger had agreed to take the photo for us.

The next photo was at Emmett's birthday. His had had a theme – 'scary'. I'd dressed up as a rather risqué vampire; tight leather, chalky white face, black heels and a generous amount of cleavage. Emmett had loved it – and eye-threatened any other guy that looked my way – so I was all too happy to wear it. That and, I felt sexy in it. Enough said. Emmett had dressed as The Hulk – ripped shirt, tatty shorts and a lot of green body paint. I had green-tinged hands for the rest of the night after that rub-down.

The next photo was of the two of us standing in the rain, arms around each other and in my case, legs too – kissing like there was no such thing as a sin. I felt a tiny twinge of desire, seeing us like that, and very nearly tore myself in half at the urge to leap off the side of the stairs to Emmett. But again, curiosity got the better of me – there was only one page left.

So I re-crossed my legs and looked at the last page. Every pore in my body froze solid at the two curly words across the page and the shiny diamond ring dangling from a piece of white ribbon.

Marry me.

- - -

ISABELLA SWAN

Sunday

I knocked on the door of Edward's home, so familiar with the place that it was almost habit to end up here after driving the streets of Forks in a confused attempt to forget what was going on in life. I was mad as hell at my boyfriend. The only way to sort out something like that was to talk about it.

The white door opened slowly, so I knew it wasn't Edward on the other side of it. And I was right.

"Hey Esme."

"Hello dear," she said, smiling. It was only when her face split into a grin that her age lines were visible – but strangely enough, it was at these moments that she looked ten years younger anyway. It was very balancing. "Edward's upstairs. He's a bit upset over something, but I hope seeing you will make him smile again."

I pained myself to return the smile, though I knew the worry on my face would distort it terribly. "Don't worry. I'll take care of everything."

But Esme kept her poker face on. "Lovely. I'll tell Carlisle not to disturb the two of you while you talk then."

"Thanks." Esme always knows what the right thing to do is.

I crossed the hall to the stairs and climbed them slowly, placing each foot on each stair before taking another step up. It was like a strange wedding march. And it took me a long time to complete.

When I was outside his door, finally, I took a breath and steeled myself. Knock knock.

"Come in."

So I did. He sounded like he thought it was Esme or something, so I didn't speak. I wanted him to see me first, to gauge his reaction when I could properly analyse it. He was always too good at covering his expressed emotions.

He was playing with his stereo, a CD in either hand, like he was changing them over. The silence in the room was unnatural – almost every time I'd been here with him there had been music of some kind in the background. Trust me to pick this perfect moment.

Then he turned around. Damn it, his poker face is as good as Esme's. Stupid genetics.

"You came. Are you still talking to me?"

"Maybe." And I really didn't know. Like I said, I was still angry at him.

Edward slowly put the CD's back in their cases, slowly put them in their places in the wall of CD's, and sat down on his bed. Slowly. So I pushed myself forward and sat beside him – but with enough room separating us so a small child could have fitted between.

I decided to be straight. "We need to talk about what happened with Vanessa."

"I know. I'm so sorry, Bella." And he sounded sorry. So why did I feel this stupid surge of anger? Don't think about it, I told myself. Concentrate on finding out the facts.

"Never mind that," I said, diverting the subject with a raised eyebrow of questions.

He seemed to understand where I was heading. "So… what first?"

"Tell me how she came here, and why."

"Wednesday after school she came round here. Said she wanted to talk. So I let her in because she was crying and stuff and I didn't want to send her out in the rain because she's a friend and everything.

"She talked about everything that'd happened so far. The thing with Alice and Jasper, how she feels like she doesn't belong anywhere, how she feels really lonely since we're all paired off. I didn't say a lot.

"Then she told me about… other stuff." There it is. The reason Vanessa acts like such a twit some of the time and an angel at others. "Said I couldn't tell anyone."

"She told you why she was all beaten up when she arrived, didn't she?"

"Yes."

"And you're not going to tell me." It wasn't a question.

He looked me straight in the eye, trying to make me drop it. "I made a promise."

No such luck. "Promises are always compromised when one half of the equation has a significant other, Edward."

"That's not the way it works. Do you expect Alice to tell Jasper everything you tell her?"

"Yes."

"Bad example," he allowed, and I saw him start to think about what he could offer in its place.

"Because there is no good example," I jumped in. "Vanessa knew that by telling you, it meant you were going to tell me. It's the unwritten rule of secret-dom."

"In girl world," he argued.

I sighed, a frustrated sound. "Yes, in girl world."

"But not guy world."

I totally saw that coming.

"This is more important than confidentiality, Edward!" I snapped. "She was clearly abused and Charlie and I can do something about it!"

"That's exactly why she doesn't want you two to know. She wants to forget about it and move on."

"So why did she tell you then?" I countered, feeling half-jealous, half-scandalised.

"She said she needed to scrape out the wound before it could heal properly."

Euphemisms. Hmph. Two can play at that game. "It will still scar."

"It will scar no matter what you or Charlie do. Leave it alone, Bella."

"No." I clenched my jaw to stop myself from saying something I'd probably regret.

"You're so damned stubborn!"

"And you're not?"

"Don't turn this around on me!"

My heart was beating faster with adrenaline, though I knew there was no danger other than the verbal one. But the increase in my heart rate made me want to revv him up. "Why shouldn't I?" I said, pouting like a child.

"Because I can't concentrate properly when you're all hot and flustered."

Ohkay, that was way off the mark.

"What?"

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and leaned closer to me. He smelled especially good today, damn him. I started to imagine what those lips could be doing–

"You look so damn hot when you're angry. I always lose the argument because I'm thinking about kissing you too mu–"

And there goes my self-control.

I jumped forward, kissing him quickly on every part of his face I could reach. My hands clamped just under his ears with my thumbs on his cheeks, and my legs moved without expressed permission. In a split second I was ravishing him, straddling him – but by the movement of his hands and the heat of his breath, he didn't seem to mind.

It was probably just the adrenaline crossed with the frustrated anger fuelling me on – but if that was the case, I was getting madder and more exhilarated as the seconds passed. So was Edward.

His hands went up the back of my black t-shirt, moving round and round and setting my skin on icy fire. He was kissing me with an enthusiasm I'd never experienced before – I realised just how much he'd held control of himself during our relationship. I was also discovering how very forward I could be.

I slid forward a little, perching myself strongly over his most sensitive part. He reacted by pulling me so close it hurt, but it still didn't feel close enough. However, this restricted the movement his lips were allowed, so he flipped me over onto the mattress so I was under him. I giggled with giddiness, my hair flurried out above my head. Edward paused to look at me, looking more animalistic and sexy than ever, and I felt the strongest ache between my legs. As if he could read my mind, Edward brought one hand around from just under my ribs, excruciatingly slowly, and danced his fingertips at the hem of my jeans.

My skin was on fire, hot, loud, sweaty bloody fire and he was fanning the flames with a touch. So unfair.

He leaned down and touched his lips to the skin just below my belly button, dragging them to the button on my jeans. I bit my lip to stop myself from screaming – then I felt a surge of passionate frustration. I leaned forward and seized his collar, yanking him up so I had access to his face. I ran my hands through his hair, scraping my nails firmly down his neck and across his shoulders. He seemed to like that, from the growl I felt on my jaw where he was concentrating his excellent skills.

He had his body pressed heavily against me but it seemed that he would never quite be heavy enough. I wanted him so badly it was making my bones electrify – not to mention that absolutely crazy zing in my trousers.

I nipped at his ear, not wanting to hurt him, and I reached down in a strategic move. I touched his stomach, finding my way by tracing along the lines of his abs, then found the ridge of the V which would lead me to my target. I only just dipped the tips of my fingers beneath the top of his jeans when he pulled his hips away from me, and I knew it was because he was having a harder time with the fire than I was. I couldn't see how that was possible, however.

I compensated by using one hand to keep his hungry mouth on mine, and used the other to trace up and down the lines of his abdomen with painfully light touches. I had another surge of passion and pulled at the bottom of his t-shirt until it bunched under his arms, where he pulled back for less than a second to yank it over his head. Normally, I would have stopped to admire the perfect lines of Edward's chest – but right now all I wanted to do was touch. So I dragged my hands over and over his body.

Edward, apparently, wanted more. I had no objection. He unbuttoned my jeans and undid the zipper without looking, then pulled them halfway down my thighs with his hands. I wondered what he was doing when he came back up to kiss me – but then I felt my jeans slide off. But his hands were on my back – I looked down and saw the crotch of my jeans hanging off his foot. Clever boy.

"That all you got?" I teased breathily, impressed.

He upped the stakes by kissing me with pressure just under my jaw, then jumped up to the door. I propped myself up, ready to protest, but he clicked the lock just in time.

"Edward?" Carlisle said from right on the other side of the door. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said, incredibly normal-sounding. But I could see his chest rising and falling quickly. "I'm about to have a shower, so don't come in."

I got a devilish idea. Edward watched while I got up and walked toward him with just a shirt and a pair of panties. I stopped when I was a few feet from him and pulled my shirt over my head. I heard him gulp.

My hair had fallen over my face so I shook it back and ran my hands through it, taking another step toward Edward.

"I was wondering if we might have a quick chat, actually." Carlisle said. "About your relationship with Bella?"

"Dad," Edward said, his voice breaking a bit as I ran a hand down his chest. "We are not having the sex talk right now."

I used the tip of my pointer to latch on to the front belt loop of his jeans. I pulled him toward me so we weren't quite touching, but the heat of our skin radiated so we almost were. I leaned back a little and undid the buttons and zipper of his jeans, then slid them down slowly as I could. There was an admirable bulge at the front of his cotton boxers.

"Green," I whispered in his ear. "Nice."

Carlisle was still outside during this exchange. "I think we need to talk about what happens when you decide to take the next step in your relationship," he pressed.

I bent down to the floor to get Edward's pants off his feet. He obligingly lifted them, one at a time. But I wasn't finished yet.

"Y-yes," Edward said, voice cracking. He was talking to me, but Carlisle didn't know that.

"Really?" asked my Principal.

"Oh yeah," Edward said to me when I stood up, dragging my finger along the inside of his thigh. When I got to the most sensitive part I detoured around it, knowing this would annoy him something chronic.

"Well, you're at the age when you'll be feeling some urges that uh… well, will make you want to experience new things with Bella."

"Can't talk. Shower." Edward stepped toward me, swept me up and over his shoulder and took a couple of steps to throw me on the bed. "Later," Edward called over his shoulder when Carlisle started to protest.

"How about now?" I whispered.

Carlisle's footsteps thudded down the hall, away from Edward's room. I barely noticed this because I was more interested in what was going on in front of me.

Edward started kissing me all over again, so I ran my hands over his silky back and through his silky hair. The man was like some divine luxury – and for some insane reason, he wanted to stay with me. I sighed with happiness.

Edward's hand slid between my legs, his palm pressed gently against the inside of my thigh.

"Are you sure?"

I propped myself up on my elbows and kissed him, running my tongue along his lower lip. "If it involves you, Edward, I'm always sure."

I know half of you will be shirty that I didn't include the details of their dirty little escapade - but I will write them in the next chapter if you guys want to read it. And just so you know - no, they did not have sex, but Bella got fingered and Edward got a hand job. Hope that was frank enough ;)

Chapter 11 Question:

Your best friend's parents hate you. What do you do?