9
B
Subtle, Bella. Really subtle.
I'm not even surprised when Edward clams up after my comment about biting him. I mean, I've wanted to sink my teeth in him for months, but Rosalie warned me he's skittish, and now it all makes sense. His silence and his cool demeanor when he's around me. His inability to hold a conversation without getting frustrated. I always thought it was me, that I'd unknowingly done something to annoy him, but I was wrong.
So wrong.
Something needs to be done. We can't keep dancing around each other. I need to get him to open up to me, but I know I have to approach this situation cautiously.
"I'm just kidding, Edward," I assure him.
His smile is shy, and he's got his hands shoved in his pockets.
The current game finishes, and we're handed the strikers. Edward pays for the puck, and we take our spots on either side of the table.
"I'm a lefty, so you've got the upper hand," I tell him as I ready my shot.
And then Edward Cullen does something so out of left field. He winks and gives me that crooked smile that makes my knees go weak. I'm so caught off-guard I grip the side of the table just to stay upright.
"I'll go easy on you," he assures me. "This time at least."
"Bring it, Cullen."
He lets me sink the puck a few times before he ups his game.
Slowly but surely, Edward comes out of his perpetual shell. Spurring me on and talking mad shit. There's something about the way he moves, the way the muscles in his forearms tighten with each play.
My brain goes all fuzzy, and I lose my shirt. Well, not really. We're in a crowded arcade, after all.
I never thought air hockey could be so sensual.