25. Daydream

No one can be held responsible for what they say or do in their sleep. Neither can they help what they overhear.

"Oh, Bella! Please. I've only just come… and now I'm going to have to…"

In my dream, I was kicking away the covers. I was too hot and I was desperate to feel something cold and hard against my overheated skin.

His hands – my hands – were everywhere. My tank top had been pulled down beneath one breast so his fingers – my fingers – could pinch and pull at my nipple. My panties had been tugged down on one side, so his fingers – my fingers – could finally bring me some relief from over a week of unfulfilled desire.

Cool air blew across the bite mark on my left leg, then a lick, a nip and another lick. Did I really imagine the cold nose running up my thigh? Did I really imagine the icy tongue licking at the fingers that caressed me?

Did I really dream the words that were then whispered so softly in my ear?

"I cannot believe I'm even considering this with you dreaming like this beside me. If only you understood how patient I've been with you, Bella, but I can't leave you again tonight and I cannot wait."

The sound of a zipper coming down.

"So long as I'm going to hell…"

The sound of skin against skin.

"Bella…"

The sounds of a man coming undone.

Those were the sounds that brought me to my dream climax, that brought me to mouth his name in my sleep.

Edward must have returned not long after that because when I stirred I was engulfed in his arms just as he had promised. I fell back into a deep and satisfied slumber.

…

"Good morning," Edward said, placing a cup of coffee on the side table.

He was smiling so much his amber eyes sparkled. I smiled back until I remembered my dream and then I blushed.

"Would you have preferred something ice cold?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. His words had a teasing tone to them.

I opened my mouth and closed it again before I settled on a reply. "Coffee is fine, thank you, Edward."

"Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes. There's time to freshen up if you'd like to."

Edward returned to the kitchen and I sat up, instantly aware of how damp my panties were. I reached for my coffee cup, raised it to my mouth and balked.

There was a very distinctive smell coming from my fingers. I looked down at the neckline of my tank top. It had been stretched out of shape and was barely keeping me decent.

My entire body flushed with heat. Was my inadvertent display the reason for that gleam in Edward's eyes?

Checking he had his back to me, I slunk out of bed and tiptoed toward the closet to fetch some fresh clothes. Then, as I made a dash for the bathroom, I was pulled up short by an unfamiliar sound coming from the kitchen.

Edward was whistling!

The tune was vaguely familiar and took me back to my childhood when my mom would hold me on her lap to watch animated movies that reconstructed dark and sinister fairy tales, glossing over real-life issues to provide the viewer with a happy ending.

But happy endings didn't last beyond the end of the movie. My mother broke my father's heart and then went on to get her own heart broken by a string of charming princes when each dream come true turned out to be a veritable nightmare.

I showered and dressed, arriving at the table just as Edward was setting down my plate. Breakfast consisted of baked eggs with spinach and cheese, a glass of orange juice and a fresh cup of coffee. I wiped an errant tear from my eye, plastered a smile on my face and thanked him.

Three quarters of an hour later, I was still sitting at the kitchen table, this time with Edward sitting opposite me while I stared at the blank screen on my laptop.

Devoid of inspiration yet again, and with seemingly little point in going back to a half-baked idea, only one thing came to mind when I thought about moving forward.

I got up and walked over to the closet to pull my box of stationery down off its shelf. From underneath notebooks of varying sizes, packets of pens, pencils, erasers and sticky tape, I retrieved a large, green fabric covered book with a black spine.

Back at the table, I opened the book to the first page and pressed it down. Edward's fountain pen rolled toward me.

I smiled and picked it up. "What will you do while I'm borrowing this?"

"Watch you," he said.

"You'll be bored silly."

"I doubt it."

Several pages in, I raised my eyes to find Edward staring at me. It was the kind of hard stare that a bear might give a person while chomping down a slice of marmalade on toast.

I smirked. "Are you trying to read my mind?"

"No," he said, scrubbing a hand over his face, "I'm just thinking."

"About?"

"Nothing in particular."

"What's wrong with me? What is it that keeps you out of my head?"

"Sheer bloody-mindedness?"

I frowned. "That's an odd thing to say."

He laughed. "It's a family expression, commonly directed at me by my father. There is nothing wrong with you, Bella. In fact, I'd even go as far as to say your mind displays a certain brilliance in its ability to keep me out, but…"

"But?"

"I am frustrated."

"By me?" He nodded. "If you're that keen to know what I'm thinking, you could just ask."

"Some thoughts are best left unsolicited. Some have more meaning if they are volunteered."

I pushed back my chair, got up and poured the remains of the coffee pot into a cup. I leaned against the counter near to where Edward was sitting and held the cup to my lips with both hands.

"Perhaps we should play a game," I said, taking a sip of coffee and spitting it straight back out into the cup. It has been stewing on the hot plate far too long.

Edward raised both eyebrows. "What kind of a game?"

"A mind reading game, one where I actively try to let you read my mind."

"What makes you think you can do that?"

"Sheer bloody-mindedness." I winked at him and poured the contents of my cup down the sink. Taking one step toward him, I focussed my thoughts.

Edward stared up at me, his eyes wide and unblinking. I took another step, raised my hands and placed them gently on either side of his face. His lips parted. I wove my fingers into his hair and leaned in until our noses touched.

"Bella," he whispered. "We shouldn't."

"Shouldn't what, Edward?"

"Kiss."

"Is that really what I'm thinking?"

"It certainly looks that way."

"Looks can be deceiving," I said, straightening up and dropping my hands back down to my sides. "And it's my mind you're supposed to be reading, not my body language."

Edward shifted in his seat. "Perhaps we should start small and play that little game of questions you like so much, only I'll try to pick the answers out of your head."

"Okay." I leaned back against the counter again. "Fire away."

"Favourite colour?" He fixed his eyes on mine.

I projected my answer as best I could, willing him to read my mind, but he furrowed his brow and shook his head.

"Favourite book?"

My eyes were instinctively drawn to my bookcase, but there were so many possibilities, he could have been guessing for hours – if he'd ever started.

"Favourite food?" His lips turned up at the corners as he said, "Chocolate?"

"Nope."

"What then?"

"Grilled cheese à la Edward."

"Silly me!" He grinned. "Favourite place?"

I closed my eyes and imagined him getting up from his chair, unable to resist the pull between us. I imagined him wrapping his arms around me so I could rest my head against his chest and his lips tickling my ear as he whispered the words: it's mine too.

"Deepest fear?" he said, cutting through my reverie.

You leaving me and never coming back, I thought. Never feeling your teeth on me again. Never knowing what it is to make lo–

"I'm sorry, Bella. I've never known anyone quite like you. It's maddening but at the same time… it's so peaceful."

My stomach rumbled rather loudly and he laughed. "Your mind might be silent to me but your stomach is not."

By rights, it was a little too soon for lunch, but I reheated a can of tomato soup, cut some toast into fingers and then I sat dipping, chewing and slurping, giving Edward the chance to use his own pen for a while.

But as soon as I reopened my notebook, the pen came rolling back across the table.

Edward stretched out his long legs and leaned back on his chair with his hands behind his head. I glanced up occasionally to see if he'd changed position, but he hadn't. Eventually, though, he shut his eyes.

Later that evening, I showered and crawled into bed, wearing my red plaid pyjamas. Edward left, having promised to return within the hour, and I drifted off to sleep.

…

It was the best kind of fantasy – the sort you let play out in your head while executing a mundane task that doesn't require your full attention, or when you are leaning back on a kitchen chair with your hands behind your head, pretending to be asleep.

"I might not be able to read your mind," he murmured, "but it would appear you can see right into mine."

He hovered over me, unbuttoning my pyjama top.

"Bella, please would you stop undressing yourself."

Huh? If he wasn't going to cooperate, then neither was I. It was my fantasy, after all. I wriggled my pyjama bottoms down and kicked them off.

"Oh hell! Twice in as many nights! Bella Swan, you will surely be the death of me."

His hand was between my legs. It wasn't exactly the part of him I wanted there, but I wasn't about to restart the scene from scratch. I'd work with whatever I was given, no matter how contrary the partner in crime.

"What aren't you telling me when you're awake? What is it that you want from me?"

You. Your fingers. Your teeth. Your tongue. Your body. I'm too hot, Edward. I need you to cool me down.

"Is this all you want me for? I can't do this again. It's not right. Please wake up or I'll have to leave."

Don't leave me!

"I won't go far."

It was the slam of the front door that jolted me out of my dream and made me sit up. I switched on the lamp on the side table and gasped.

Everything was in disarray. The bedcovers were lying in a heap on the floor along with my pyjama pants. My top was unbuttoned and falling off my shoulders, and my panties were halfway down my thighs.

"Edward?" I pulled up my panties and refastened the buttons on my top.

"I'm just outside. Give me a moment."

I needed a moment too. Snatching up my pants, I ran to the bathroom. I used the toilet, washed my face and then poked my head out of the door.

Edward was sitting on the remade bed with his head in his hands.

"Should I be saying sorry?" I asked, wincing.

"No, of course not," he said. "Perhaps if I held you, kept you cool, you wouldn't get so… overheated."

As I walked back into the room, he stripped off his T-shirt and got under the covers. I turned off the lamp and climbed in, snuggling against his chest so his ice cold skin could calm my burning cheeks.

…

Chores were the name of the Monday game and knowing it was our last, I made a conscious effort to note every detail, no matter how humdrum.

When the laundry, the cleaning, the grocery shopping and the cooking were done, I got out the green fabric covered notebook and read back over what I had written so far.

I wished I could borrow Edward's fountain pen again. I looked over at him stretched out on the sofa with his ankles resting on one of the arms and his head on the other. In his right hand, he was holding a book, which he had to have borrowed from the store, but he wasn't reading it because his right arm was draped across his chest as it rose and fell.

It was as if he'd fallen asleep.

My chest tightened at the thought of him leaving, of our time fast running out. I got up to fetch myself a glass of water from the refrigerator and then returned to the table. There in the fold of my open notebook was Edward's fountain pen and yet Edward had not moved an inch.

I stopped writing at around seven o'clock to eat a portion of the lasagne I'd made earlier and then picked up the pen again.

By the time I got to bed, I was fully expecting Edward to go out, but he lay down under the covers beside me with his chest bare and pulled me into his arms.

"How does it work?" I whispered into the darkness.

"How does what work?"

"The change from human to vampire? You said I didn't understand, so…"

He let out a long slow breath. "The vampire must have considerable restraint. It isn't easy for us to stop once we've tasted blood."

"But that's it, right? Venom injected. Job done."

"Pretty much, give or take three days of excruciating pain while the venom transforms the human's body."

"Why would the vampire be in pain?"

"Not the vampire, Bella, the human."

"Oh."

"The pain is indescribable. I will never be able to erase the memory of my transformation. No vampire could. I wished I were dead for three whole days and then, when I awoke and learned what I had become, I wished for death all over again."

"Do you still?"

"Wish I were dead? No, not anymore. Now I wish for… other things."

"What do you wish for, Edward?"

"Surely you know that wishes don't come true if you say them out loud?"

And there, in a nutshell, was why I couldn't ask him to stay.

"Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you have considerable restraint?"

His entire body stiffened. "Er, most of the time."

"You've never changed anyone, though, have you?"

"No."

I inhaled his scent and closed my eyes, feeling drowsy already. "Do you think you could?"

"With the right motivation, maybe. At least, that's what Carlisle believes."

"What motivated him to change you?" I mumbled.

If he answered me, it didn't register, for in his cold embrace, I had finally succumbed to sleep.