Eclipse, pg. 185

"

There was no friction in the space between us. The stillness was peaceful – not like the calm before the tempest, but like a clear night untouched by even the dream of a storm.

And I didn't care that I was supposed to be angry with him. I didn't care that I was supposed to be angry at everyone. I reached out for him, found his hands in the darkness, and pulled myself closer to him. His arms encircled me, cradling me to his chest. My lips searched, hunting along his throat, to his chin, till I finally found his lips.

Edward kissed me softly for a moment, and then he chuckled.

"I was all braced for the wrath that was going to put grizzlies to shame, and this is what I get? I should infuriate you more often."

"Give me a minute to work up to it," I teased, kissing him again.

"I'll wait as long as you want," he whispered against my lips. His fingers knotted in my hair.

My breath was becoming uneven. "Maybe in the morning."

"Whatever you prefer."

"Welcome home," I said while his cold lips pressed under my jaw. "I'm glad you came back."

"That's a very good thing."

"Mmm," I agreed, tightening my arms around his neck.

His hand curved around my elbow, moving slowly down my arm, across my ribs and over my waist, tracing along my hip and down my leg, around my knee. He paused there, his hand curling around my calf. He pulled my leg up suddenly, hitching it around his hip.

I stopped breathing. This wasn't the kind of thing he usually allowed. Despite his cold hands, I felt suddenly warm. His lips moved in the hollow at the base of my throat.

"Not to bring on the ire prematurely," he whispered, "but do you mind telling me what it is about this bed that you object to?"

Before I could answer, before I could even concentrate enough to make sense of his words, he rolled to the side, pulling me on top of him. He held my face in his hands, angling it up to that his mouth could reach my throat. My breathing was too loud – it was almost embarrassing. But I couldn't quite care enough to be ashamed.

"The bed?" He asked again. "I think it's nice."

"It's unnecessary," I managed to gasp.

He pulled my face back to his, and my lips shaped themselves around his. Slowly this time, he rolled till he hovered over me. He held himself carefully so that I felt none of his weight, but I could feel the cool marble of his body press against mine. My heart was hammering so loudly that it was hard to hear his quiet laughter.

"That's debatable," he disagreed, "This would be difficult on a couch."

Cold as ice, his tongue lightly traced the shape of my lips.

My head was spinning – the air was coming too fast and shallow.

"

I could already feel my body start to heat up, overwhelmed with the new sensations of him all over me. It had been too long of a weekend, and he seemed very happy to see me. I couldn't say it was more than usual, but he was indiscernibly breaking his own rules.

I could feel that my eyes were half-open, still heavy with sleep. My body surged with desire. My knees fell apart, and I moved my legs on either side of his torso as he laid between them, squeezing my thighs together and trapping him there.

He suddenly sucked in a sharp breath, and moved himself back down to his side. I whined in protest and threw my leg back up over his hip, my hands grabbing his shirt. It was audacious of me – but I felt brave.

"Bella," he said sternly.

"What?" I asked, feigning innocence.

"Behave yourself."

"You," I challenged.

He narrowed his eyes, knowing that he couldn't blame me for getting carried away, when he was the one who started it. He was always talking about the limits of his control, but he knew better than to push mine. I'd take anything he'd give me and run with it.

"Me? I was just explaining why you should appreciate this bed."

"Oh, I appreciate it."

"Are you sure about that? I found you on the couch." His eyes were narrowed, accusing.

I sighed, provoked. My change of location had nothing to do with me disliking the bed, I was just stubborn and annoyed. Spending a bunch of money on this ridiculous bed that took up his entire room? And just for me, only for two nights? Not sensible.

"It's uncalled for," I muttered.

"I wanted you to be comfortable while you slept."

"I am — I was. I'm fine. Honestly, Edward, you don't need to do all this." I gestured to the mattress we were laying on.

"I'm sorry," he offered. "It's impossible not to want to spoil you."

"I mean, I'd be okay with it if you'd bought it with other intentions in mind, but . . ."

My hand slid across his chest to his stomach, and I grinned. I could feel heat radiating between my legs. I pressed myself closer to him, watching his disapproving face. His hand grabbed mine.

"Ugh," I groaned loudly.

"Stop being dramatic," he sighed. His eyes were liquid gold and piercing.

"I guess you don't want me to like the bed, then."

He chuckled, and the sound ignited the energy in my core. "Very sound logic."

I shrugged. It kind of was.

"Go to bed, Bella."

"I'm not tired anymore."

"Yes you are."

"No."

"Your eyes are barely open."

I grimaced. I didn't feel tired, but I knew my body was. I had an idea.

"Will you do something for me?" I asked.

He squared his shoulders, not answering immediately. "Depends."

"You don't trust me, do you?"

He laughed at my critical tone. "Not one bit."

"Please?" I tried again.

"What do you want?" His quiet voice was still suspicious.

"Can you give me a massage?" I wondered. My teeth inadvertently clenched, even though it was an innocent request. Mostly. I just wanted him to touch me, and this was easier than trying to continue whatever was going on before. I could feel the invisible wall that he'd put up as soon as my legs wrapped around him.

"You want me to rub your back?" he asked.

"No, like a full-body massage," I corrected. "My muscles hurt."

He raised his eyebrows. "Go overboard with the motorcycle antics or something?"

I ignored the jibe. "I'll go right to sleep."

"My self-control is not flawless, Bella. Why do I have to keep telling you that?"

"It's just a massage," I said persuasively. "You've touched me plenty of times."

He seemed to juggle the decision in his mind, not knowing what to say. It wasn't anything that wasn't allowed, technically. I just wanted his hands on me, wherever they were, moving slowly over my body . . .

"Take me to get a massage, then," I mumbled. "If you don't want to do it." I let the bait sit there, hoping the image of someone else's hands all over me was crossing his mind.

"Fine," he said, his voice husky. He shifted his body up, his back against the headboard. "Get on your stomach."

My body thrilled at his words, automatically reacting.

I flipped over, resting my head on my crossed arms. I closed my eyes, awaiting his cool touch.

The fire in my belly swelled, and grew even more as his fingers started to massage the back of my neck softly. A sense of relief and comfort flooded over me. My body was physically excited, but my mind was relaxed. His hands traveled to my shoulder blades, pressing into the bones there, and then down my spine and lower back. He rubbed across my hips and his fingers gently grazed the soft skin on my sides. Then he circled around again.

It felt good, and I could feel myself relaxing. There was something calming about someone's caring, safe touch. Especially Edward's. I could feel the endorphin release as soon as he touched me anywhere, so the prolonged experience was incredible, especially when his skin started to warm up to mine.

I started to slip away.

Edward

It was easy to tell when Bella fell back asleep. Her heartbeat slowed uncharacteristically, and her breathing was quiet and deep. Peaceful.

I rubbed her back until she fell unconscious, my fingers moving slower and slower. She had rolled over a few hours later, onto her back next to me. Her chest rose and fell.

She looked beyond beautiful. More beautiful than any human – or vampire, for that matter – I'd ever seen. My eyes had no problem seeing her in the dark.

Her brown hair was messy on the pillow, framing the soft features of her face. Her eyelids were closed and unmoving, her narrow eyebrows furrowed. I longed to smooth out the crease in between, wondering what she was frustrated about in her sleep.

And her lips; the soft curve of the top, somewhat bigger than the bottom, pouting. They were slightly parted. Dark pink, soft. Tempting. I wanted to touch them.

No, I wanted to bite. The sudden urge shocked me. It wasn't in the way that I had ever wanted to bite her before – the desire to bite through the translucent skin of her neck and taste her hot, flowing blood – no, it was a different kind of impulse. I longed to kiss her, to take her top lip between my teeth, to run my tongue along it. A different type of hunger.

I had gotten used to this new hunger ever since I met her, but there were threads to the feeling. Not only did it seem to grow over time, but it would surge unexpectedly.

I knew it was pure lust, the same feeling I got whenever she was close to me. It built when I touched her. I always wanted more. When she'd asked for the massage, it had taken all of my control not to dip lower, to run my hands over the dimples on the small of her back, and lower . . .

She whimpered in her sleep, and then inhaled deeply. The energy in my body reacted unbecomingly.

This was all my fault – I had greeted her much too enthusiastically. Of course she had coincided, begged me for more, and now every atom in my marble skin had awakened. It was easier to shut them down all the time, and pretend that most of my human inclinations were long gone. I would never admit to Bella that my need was even stronger than hers.

Not that it was a pride or arrogant matter; I just knew it wouldn't help my own will.

She mumbled incoherently, and I prepared myself for her usual sleep-talking phrases. I knew them all: Edward, I love you, Phoenix, Renee, Charlie, Jacob . . . Occasionally she even mentioned the essay she had due the next day.

She spoke again, but I did not fear that she had awakened. Her voice was a low, wistful murmur.

I had thought I'd heard it all, until she quietly moaned.

I froze, alarmed, my eyes on her. Was she hurt? She shifted, her cheek laying against the pillow. Her small hands twitched on her ribs, laying slack against herself. Fast asleep. She didn't seem like she was in any discomfort.

"Mmmm . . ."

I glanced over again. Her breathing accelerated.

What in God's name was she dreaming about?

I desperately wanted to read her mind in that moment. I was still slightly worried at the abrupt stirring of her body. Was she having a nightmare?

A light blush started to color her skin. Her chest, her neck, her cheeks. I could feel the heat. Her hands jerked on her stomach again.

Slowly, lazily, one of them moved down a few inches, to the waistband of her shorts.

She sighed, the sound short and frustrated.

I looked at her face again, checking to see if she had woken up. Her eyelids were firmly shut, her eyes motionless under the surface.

The scent of her arousal punched me in the face.

I nearly fell off the bed.

Nope, not a nightmare.

She smelled so mouth-watering; it should have been illegal. It was her usual delicious fragrance, mixed in with musky pheromones. I should have been used to this scent by now, but it caught me off guard every time.

Her fingers slid down deliberately now, disappearing under the stretchy band of her shorts. Unconsciously, her fingers moved between her legs. They didn't stop moving.

Her breath hitched and shallowed, making her chest contract a few times. Her back arched slightly, and her knees fell apart further.

I couldn't take my eyes off of her, as I watched almost studiously. I had the urge to jump out the window, but my limbs wouldn't budge.

"Edward," she whimpered.

I froze again, afraid she'd really woken up this time, but her eyes were still shut. I had been perfectly quiet, but I felt as though she'd startle herself awake any minute. How could she still be sleeping through this?

Her mind was in a different place. With me. She was dreaming about me.

I felt like groaning, frustrated. What were we doing in her dream? How many times had she done this, in this same fashion? It was absolutely torturous not knowing. Even more torturous to simply watch, while I was being held captive by my instincts.

I could feel the heat increasing in the air between us – it radiated from her.

My eyes were overwhelmed. I wasn't sure if I should watch her fingers or her legs or her throat . . . Or her lips, which were rosy red, colored by her full-body flush.

I switched between everything, listening to the wet, warm sounds in the darkness.

I had the urge to grab myself while I watched, but I suppressed it. I almost felt like I was intruding on something private. But I couldn't make myself move. I wasn't aware that Bella even did this – I had never allowed myself to even wonder. I suddenly felt silly. Of course she did. How else would she know exactly what she wanted, intimately? She knew exactly how she wanted me to touch her, and usually wasn't shy about hinting.

I was an expert on denying myself the simple pleasures of life, but even I allowed myself to self-pleasure on the rare occasion.

I knew Bella would never consciously do this in front of me, or possibly even admit to it. The forbidden aspect made it all the more appealing.

Dangerously, horribly appealing.

Her hips softly thrusted against her fingers once. Again. She exhaled, her breath catching.

If my heart was functioning it would have stopped. I couldn't leave, but it was torture to stay. I couldn't take it.

Carefully, carefully, I grabbed the bottom legs of her shorts, on either side of her body with both my hands. Painfully slowly, I tugged down.

I absolutely needed to see more.

I moved them just enough to make out the outline of her fingers beneath her blue panties. The waistband was at her thighs now, but still loose enough that she wouldn't notice it pulling against her skin.

I hoped she was too immersed in her dream that she wouldn't feel it and wake up. I could watch her for hours.

Or maybe not.

The sight of her in just panties and a t-shirt were enough to drive me insane, and now I was getting that with a show. More than I deserved. Probably more than I could handle.

I could see the wet spot in between her legs, where she'd soaked through the fabric. I choked back another growl. I was shaking, my arousal pressed firmly against my jeans. I wanted to touch her so badly. Taste her . . .

My mind whirled, fighting against my urges that were so close to slipping out of my control. I wanted to keep watching, to see what she would do next, but it made me nervous. Too unpredictable. What one thing would she suddenly do that would make my self-control completely obliterate itself?

My eyes flicked to the window, and again I considered making a run for it.

Her middle finger stroked circles, up and down. The flat of her finger brushed her clit, and she gasped softly.

It felt like it would take iron hydraulic equipment to pull me from where I sat.

I wanted to move those wonderful, stupid blue panties out of the way. I wanted more.

Her finger disappeared slowly, easing inside herself. I could hear the wet sucking sounds in the silence. She pushed in further, all the way to her knuckle. Her finger was small; I was sure that her body craved more.

She was swollen and soaking wet at this point. How effortless, how easy it would be to push into her . . .

I swallowed too loudly, my teeth crushing together.

But this was good, I assured myself. I was learning. I was learning what turned her on, how she liked it. We'd had no experience with each other or anyone else, so I knew teaching and learning would be a big factor. I'd heard a lot in the minds of humans – and regrettably, some familiar vampires – over the years. And everyone had their preferences.

And Bella liked it . . . slow. Painfully, gloriously slow. Teasing. Deep.

Christ.

It was already horrible to want her so much, and even worse to know that she would be good. And even though I already knew that, this was a confirmation of one of my worst fears.

That she'd be far, far too good.

I watched as her finger dove in now, still gradual, but smoother. She was opening up, her body fully aroused. I imagined again how it would be to be inside her. Her warmth, enveloping my cool skin . . .

Of course, as soon as that occurred, she'd be dead.

That fact was what halted me, what plagued my mind at all times. It kept me sane. That alone kept me from waking her up, tearing her clothes to shreds, pulling her out of that wretched dream and onto me.

Her middle finger curled inside herself, and a groan escaped her lips. Was it too much? Her finger withdrew, and began the repetition again – up and down. She circled a bit, her other fingers helping out. She was dripping wet.

It was subtle, but her body began to go rigid, her shoulders and head lifting slightly. It sounded like she stopped breathing, her fingers still working against her, but not slipping inside. They moved fast now, desperately.

And then her body reacted, convulsing with a burst of energy. Her legs extended and her thighs fell further apart, slowly. She was breathing through her teeth, and a small moan of relief escaped her throat as the relief came.

I watched her face, her head tilted back. Her eyebrows were furrowed, a deep crease between her closed eyes. Her lips were parted, her chest moving with her rapid breathing. Her long hair was tangled against the pillow.

It was all involuntary, her body recovering from the intense pleasure. It was stunning.

I was too distracted by my own aching arousal to notice that her orgasm had woken her up. She was still panting, looking up at the ceiling. Her expression wasn't even shocked – it was flustered. Her cheeks colored red as she yanked up her shorts.

Leaning over to her side, she grabbed a tissue from the side table.

"Whatever I just did in my sleep . . ." she muttered to me, not making eye contact, "No I didn't."

I almost thought about making a joke – is it my turn now? – but I didn't want her to get any ideas that would be nearly impossible to refuse.

She rolled onto her back again, still not looking at me.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. I could feel her blush. It was endearing. "I – I don't know what happened."

I swallowed a bit too loud. "It's perfectly fine, Bella."

"Did you – um – see?" Her heart was pounding.

"Mhm," was all I could reply. What did she expect? No, actually, I closed my eyes the whole time and recited Bible verses. Even I didn't have that much restraint.

She bit her lip. "Ugh, I'm sorry."

I shook my head slowly. "Honestly, I should be thanking you."

Her lips twitched. Her breathing was still heavy, but her heart was slowly returning to a steady beat.

She was still for a while. I looked over to peek, to see if her eyes were closed. They were still half-open and dilated, a serious expression on her face. She turned her head to me, looking in my eyes.

"I wish it was you," she murmured, blushing.

My body absolutely lurched with desire. But she didn't need to know that.

She sighed quietly, turning back over.