CHAPTER NINETEEN: QUESTIONS
(Bella's POV)

"We were leaving," I replied, unable to hide my smile.

Jake's lips brushed my ear. "Are you sure?"

I struggled to control my breathing.

"I could have sworn we weren't leaving just yet," he whispered.

"Charlie's expecting me," I said, although at this point I really didn't care about being late.

"Call him from my house," Jake said. "You can just tell---"

Whatever he was going to say didn't matter. I covered his lips with mine, instantly seeking out his tongue. Everyone was gone. It was just us and the night.

I slid forward, pressing myself against him and reveling in the warmth of his skin. I slipped my arms around his waist, tracing the muscular lines of his back as our lips moved gently together. This was the kind of kiss that every girl dreams about...strong and slow, sweet and consuming, soft and deliberate. His fingers brushed over my cheek, gently cupping my face as his other hand pressed against my lower back. And then I realized.

I realized why he'd been pushing me back, trying to keep those couple of inches between us. My perch on the edge of the seat as he stood in front of me made up for our difference in height, and the evidence of his attraction to me was pressed squarely between my legs. Before I he could react, before I could even consider what I was doing I slipped further forward, wrapping my legs around him.

He instantly tensed, and an almost silent growl rumbled through his chest as his shaky hands sought out my hips. I locked my ankles behind his back as I pushed his hands away. His kiss became hungrier even as his hold on me loosened, and he half-heartedly tried to pull away. I caught his lip between my teeth, biting lightly, and in the next second I was crushed against him.

His fingers tangled in my hair, pulling my head back as he assaulted my neck with hot, desperate kisses. His tongue darted out, burning a trail from my ear to my collarbone as his free hand found the top of my thigh. Our breathing grew heavier, our hands gripping each other more tightly. His fingers dug into my leg, alternately squeezing and relaxing, before sliding around and under the back of my shirt.

As much as I knew I should stop, I couldn't. I simply held him there against me, sucking his tongue into my mouth and second-guessing myself every second that his hands lingered over the clasp of my bra.

"Bella?" came a sharp voice from behind him.

Mrs. Newton?

Jake shoved my hips back almost roughly, and stepped an appropriate distance back, turning swiftly to see who had such terrible...or was it perfect?...timing.

"Ah...Mrs. Newton...I..." I stuttered, wishing Jacob hadn't stepped back so at least I could hide behind him. What was I supposed to say?

"I expect Charlie's waiting up for you?" she asked, casting a critical look toward Jake.

I couldn't even look her in the eye. I could feel her shock, her judgment, her intense disapproval. But while my immediate reaction had been embarrassment, I was suddenly overcome with indignation. So what if I was kissing Jacob? Wasn't that normal behavior for teenagers? I doubted she would have the same reaction if she'd walked up on me with Mike. I fought back the shudder that threatened to ripple through me at that thought, and I raised my head back up to meet her severe gaze.

"Probably not," I said. "He knows I'm with Jacob."

She arched an eyebrow, but mercifully chose not to call my bluff.

"Well...I...I'll see you Friday," she said, glancing at Jake again before turning and walking to her pretentious Cadillac.

I was still watching her walk when I heard a chuckle.

"So, Bells? What was that?" Jake asked, doing little to suppress his laughter.

"I didn't like the way she was looking at me...at us," I said.

"So now you're defending me?" he asked with a smirk.

"Get in the truck, Jake," I said, rolling my eyes.

He was still laughing as walked around to the passenger side and climbed in.

"Your place or mine?" Jake asked. His smirk told me he was well aware of the implications of his question.

"Yours," I sighed.

Truthfully, the last place in the world I wanted to go was home. Mrs. Newton was a bit of a meddler, always gossiping about people and usually exaggerating. I had a bad feeling that she was dialing Charlie's number before she even pulled out of the parking lot.

"Shit!" The word escaped my lips before I could even process what I was seeing. Charlie's cruiser was parked right in front of Jacob's house. I briefly considered just backing out and heading home, but common sense squashed that idea. It didn't take supernatural senses to hear my truck coming from a mile away. Sure enough, before I could even cut the engine, Charlie was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and a way-too-fatherly look on his face.

"What's his problem?" Jake asked.

"Mrs. Newton," I replied.

We both got out and started toward Charlie. Jacob walked closely beside me but didn't touch me. Thank God. Charlie was wearing his gun belt.

"Hi, Dad," I said, trying to sound cheerful.

He just nodded in my general direction, his stare still fixed on Jacob. "Jake, son, we need to talk."

I wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or call 911. I glanced up at Jake, and while he was smart enough to keep his grin to himself, there was a twinkle in his eye that told me he was enjoying this. If I wasn't afraid of hurting myself, I would have kicked him.

"Go inside, Bells," Charlie said.

I stepped past him, pausing in the doorway to give Jake a look that I hope said, 'Behave yourself,' then shut the door behind me.

"Bella," Billy said, nodding his greeting.

I just stood there, desperately wanting to ask how much trouble we were in, but not sure if I wanted to know. My curiosity got the best of me though, and I stepped over to the front window, slowly pulling the curtain back just enough to peek outside.

Charlie's back was to me, and though Jacob was facing me, I couldn't make out his expression in the darkness. While I was glad there was no yelling, I was disappointed that I couldn't tell what was being said. All I could see was Charlie talking with his hands and Jacob nodding.

"She called him, didn't she?" I asked over my shoulder.

"Yes," Billy replied. "Any truth to what she said?" he asked.

"I doubt it," I said, quietly adding, "We weren't really doing anything."

"Well then, there's nothing to worry about. Why don't you come sit down? Jake can take care of himself."

I shuffled over to the sofa, slouching against the end as I tried to concentrate on what appeared to be a sports news show. Like that was going to keep my attention away from the possible homicide taking place in the front yard. I tried telling myself that if Jacob was really in danger of being shot, Billy wouldn't be so calm. But I wasn't convinced.

"So you two are pretty serious?" Billy asked.

I groaned. This could not be happening. If the thought of the whole relationship/sex talk with Charlie was disconcerting, having one with my boyfriend's father was positively mortifying.

"Look, I'll leave most of the worrying to Charlie, but I am concerned about my boy. He's in...well...he cares about you a lot, and I just want to know that you're he's not going to get hurt."

My head whipped up, and I'm sure my surprise showed on my face. It's not that I didn't think Billy loved his son. It's just that he'd always been so laid back about things. The last thing I expected was for him to question me. And now his words had me questioning myself.

Just how serious was I about Jacob? I knew he loved me, and I knew I loved him. But was it the way I loved Edward? Was it absolutely everything to me, and did I want it to be? I didn't want to dissect my feelings. I didn't want to pick it apart and compare it. The fact was that Jake made me happy, happier than I had thought I could ever be again. And when he was holding me, I felt like nothing could touch me, nothing could take away from what we had. He wasn't Edward. But he was every bit as important to me. And that was serious enough.

"I...ah..." I hedged, not sure if I wanted to be talking about love with Billy. In the end, I just decided to go with the words he'd used. "I care about him a lot, too," I finally managed to mumble.

"Good," he said, mercifully turning back to the television. "Just be good to him."

I didn't miss the warning in his tone.