That was finally it, his chance to remove any and all ambiguity from their relationship. He wanted to restrain himself long enough to hear her out, but he had already been struggling with it for most of the evening. Every moment he spent with her weakened him, and the lifetime of waiting had him ready to burst. There were things he needed to say, too; nerve-wracking and slightly embarrassing things. But there would be plenty of time for talk later, assuming that he had not just made the second biggest mistake of his life.

He wanted to wait for the right moment, but missing it would almost be worse than seizing the wrong one. Even if he was one hundred percent certain of her feelings, her breakup had been messy, mentally and physically, and he feared the consequences of pushing her too early. That leech had screwed with her, put her in danger, and then abandoned her. He would never forgive him for the damage the Cullens did to her, to his Bella. Wherever this moment took him, he would never let her suffer like that again.

Even if he wasn't rejected outright, there was a chance he could poison the well. She might have needed him for his support and his protection, but the truth was that he needed her more, and even remaining only as friends was preferable to scaring her away with his impatience. But seeing her smile again, letting him hold her hand, cuddling so close to him like that, had formed fissures in his resolve. He should have waited for her, but it was too much. He had to know for sure.

His heart was still racing as he pulled back to gauge her reaction. She stared back wordlessly, wide-eyed and panting like a marathon runner. But her eyes never left his.

"I've wanted to do that for a really long time," he whispered, stroking her hair. The moments that followed felt like an eternity as he waited for her to respond.

"Me too," she whispered back, flushed. She raised her hand and traced along his jaw with her fingers. His heart restarted and she grabbed him by the waist of his shirt to pull herself in once more.

They might have become permanently affixed if it weren't for the need for air. His hands traveled around her waist and her back, and his mind instantly sent back to that night in her bed by the scent of her shampoo, which drifted up into his brain and turned it to mush. Her chest heaved, and he could feel it pressing against his own. He'd forgotten just how small she was, how fragile, until his hand found her waist. He wanted nothing more than to slide his hand under the hem of her shirt and feel the soft skin hidden underneath, maybe even pull it off of her... Was this the first time he had really touched her, or just the first time he lost himself in it?

Her hand was tangled in his cropped hair, bringing him closer after every half-breath he managed to steal. He tempered his grip on her, mindful of his strength and capacity to injure her, but she showed no such inhibitions. How did the leech keep himself from breaking her with a voracious appetite such as hers? There was something almost aggressive about the way she kissed him, like an animal that had just been released from its cage. Her tongue had found its way into his mouth, searching tirelessly until it found his, and letting out tiny moans every so often. He was taken aback by the eagerness with which she pawed at his chest, as if she were trying to push him over on his back. Where was she going with this? It was undeniably welcome, but they had already exhausted everything he was prepared for and were quickly traversing into new territory.

The experience was dizzying, and not just due to the reduced oxygen in his blood; though, a lot of that blood was being diverted away from his brain at the moment. She nipped at his bottom lip, and he felt a growl rumble deep in his chest. His efforts to conceal his growing need were constantly thwarted by her wandering hand, which had moved downwards from his chest to his stomach. Her fingertips were running back and forth over his skin, and he wondered if they would slip under his shirt. She had to know what she was doing to him. It had been over a year of vivid dreams that left him sweating and frustrated upon waking, but this was real, and it was so much better.

He finally retreated from her grasp, though not without extracting himself entirely. His arm remained around her waist as he came up for air.

"Sorry," she said breathlessly. "I guess I got a bit carried away there."

She looked away with a somewhat guilty expression. It reminded him of when she handed him that first drink. Her face said guilt, but she seemed to derive some sort of perverse pleasure from reducing him to such a state.

"No, you're good. I just need a minute," he uttered between gasps.

He leaned back against the wall in a haze, completely overcome by what had just transpired. She was looking at him expectantly while she collected herself as well, and he glanced quickly over to his clock.

"Shit, it's already nine thirty. My dad's gonna be home any minute." He scrambled out of the bed, turning off the tv and checking the mirror.

"Yeah, of course," she said, jumping up to adjust her hair and her sweater. Their struggle had made her sweater ride up her chest, exposing a sliver of her midriff above the waistband of her jeans. It looked delicious, and he wondered if this was how the vampire felt all the time.

"I should get going anyways. Tomorrow's the last review day before finals start."

She rushed over to the front door, putting her coat back on and stuffing her feet back into her boots. Jacob followed her, hoping that the bulge would die down by the time he got there. She seemed jittery, fishing around in her pockets for her keys as if Billy would come busting through the door at any moment. It seemed there would be no discussion tonight. But then she stopped, and turned around slowly. She stood up on her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck for one last kiss. It was softer, more gentle than before. He savored the moment, knowing it would all have to last until he saw her again.

"Goodnight," she whispered, before darting out the door.

Jacob stumbled back to his room, pulling off his shirt and unbuttoning his jeans, before collapsing onto his bed. He stared up at the ceiling, still in awe of events of the last several hours. There were no words, just an aching mix of elation and confusion. It looked like he was in for another rough night, but better dreams awaited him.