In just a few seconds the hallway is crowded with Edward's relatives, all staring at them expectantly, stupid grins on their faces.
"Well, what are you waiting for," Emmett says, practically bouncing with glee at another chance to embarrass them. "Kiss."
"Guys, come on," Edward pleads, flushing and avoiding looking at Isabella. Isabella feels her own face burn.
Emmett shakes his head. "Nope. You're not getting out of this one. It's a Christmas tradition, Eddie."
Edward turns to Isabella, apology on his face and Isabella tenses.
"Edward," she hisses under her breath, but he pays no attention. He places a hand on Isabella's waist to keep her still, then leans forward and kisses her. It's brief, barely a peck. Just a dry brush of Edward's lips against Isabella's, too fast for her brain to even really comprehend it, before he's pulling away. Isabella sucks in a gasp of air anyway.
"Oh, come on now," Edward's uncle protests. "That ain't a real kiss."
"You guys are together, aren't you?" One of the female cousins Isabella didn't get the name of pipes up. "Act like you like each other."
Edward hesitates, sliding a nervous glance at her, questioning. Isabella takes a deep breath, eyes flickering from Edward's face to the crowd of Cullens watching them, and gives a barely perceptible nod.
It isn't a peck this time.
Edward takes a step closer, placing his body not half an inch away from Isabella's, and leans forward again, the hand on her waist moving up her back, long fingers tangling in the hair at her nape, thumb stroking the skin just in front of her ear. Isabella unconsciously lets her eyes close. Edward's lips are slightly chapped, but warm, pressing softly, insistently against hers until Isabella gives in and kisses back. She breathes in a shuddering breath through her nose at the contact, feeling hyper aware of every inch of her body that is in contact with Edward's. His lips move slowly, languidly, against Isabella's, parting just enough to brush the tip of his tongue against her bottom lip, not seeking entrance, but just testing, tasting. Isabella lets him, too caught up in the kiss to even think about why they're doing it, or the audience they have. Finally Edward pulls back, nipping slightly at Isabella's bottom lip before letting it go. He doesn't go far though, just pulls back enough for them to stare dumbly at each other, eyes wide, breathing short, feeling the puffs of those breaths on their still tingling lips.
The family bursts into applause. For the second time that night Edward and Isabella jump, startled.
"Whoo, boy! Now, that was kiss!" Peter exclaims, coming over to clap both of them on the shoulder. "Guess you two like each other after all, huh?"
Isabella gives him a pained smile and doesn't move, frozen, as the rest of the people watching them break apart, heading back to living room now that the show's over.
"Um," Edward starts, face red and hand going up to the back of his neck in what Isabella now knows is a nervous gesture. "Well, that was—"
"Gotta get the eggnog," Isabella mutters, cutting him off. She ducks around Edward and into the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge. She can feel Edward's eyes on her as she walks away and the back of her neck heats up. She doesn't look at him as she walks back to the living room, quickly pouring the rest of the eggnog into the punch bowl and turning right around, avoiding everyone's eyes as she carries the empty pitcher back to the kitchen. It's when she's leaving the kitchen a second time that she hears it.
"God, that's disgusting. I can't believe they allow that kind of PDA in this house. They aren't even married and Aunt Liz is already pushing them for kids. Personally, I think Irina'd make a better maid than a mother, damn hippie-freak! What the hell would a woman like that, know about raising kids anyway?"
Isabella stops in her tracks, fury flooding through her. She clenches her fists and turns to where the man's voice came from. Demetri and his girlfriend are standing in the small hallway leading to the downstairs bathroom and laundry room. Demetri's back is to Isabella and the woman is too short to see past him, so neither of them realizes Isabella is there.
She fully intends to let them know. She's taken two forceful steps in their direction when someone steps directly in her way, forcing her to stop.
"Just let it go, Isabella," Edward murmurs, walking forward and forcing her to back up, away from the hall. He wraps his huge hands around her shoulders, gentle, but firm when she strains against them.
"Did you hear him?" she growls. "You're just going to let him say whatever he wants about me, well not me… But whatever, just in general?"
"Demetri's an asshole, always has been. There's at least one in every family and I can't change that." Edward is still murmuring, low and soothing. He rubs his hands up and down slightly on Isabella's shoulders, trying to calm her down.
Isabella doesn't calm. "You shouldn't accept shit like that from people," she hisses. "You need to say something. He will never change if you don't." She tries to go around Edward. He doesn't let her, taking a step forward and forcing Isabella backwards in the small space, hands still holding her back.
"Yeah, sometimes you do," Edward says, voice still too calm. "But not tonight, not at my parents' house, and not on Christmas Eve. Please. I'm sorry he said those things, but you're better than that. Besides, I know you'll make an amazing mother one day." For one endless moment they just stand there, Isabella tense and rigid against Edward's hold on her, practically shaking with the amount of anger and frustration pouring through her, and Edward calm, steady, sure of himself in a way that Isabella has only seen him when he was planning with Maggie or playing with his dogs in the yard.
Huffing out a frustrated breath, she knocks Edward's hands off her, casting one more dark look in the direction of Demetri and the woman before stepping back. Edward looks at her in concern, holding one hand out, as if to grab her shoulder again, but Isabella brusquely waves him off.
"Gotta pee," she grunts, and stomps off down the hallway, passing the living room, going into the foyer, and then up the stairs. She bursts into the upstairs bathroom, barely flicking on the light before she's slamming the door shut. She grips the edges of the sink and ducks her head, breathing harsh. What was that down there? Not the thing with Demetri; Isabella has no problem with fighting an asshole who thinks he's better than everyone. But the thing with Edward, the kiss, what the hell was that? Her heartbeat picks up just thinking about it. She lifts her head, looks at her reflection in the mirror. Her face is flushed, the dark stain of it on her ears and her neck, continuing down beneath her collar, and her lips look red.
"Developing a crush on your kidnapper, Isabella? Really?" she tells her reflection. "That's insane." She stares at herself a little longer, as if by doing so she could force away this sudden attraction by sheer will alone, then sighs. She turns on the water, splashes a little on her face. She wonders if thirty-six hours is long enough to develop Stockholm Syndrome.