He flinches so badly that I feel guilty. When he realizes who is standing outside his window, his eyes get even wider. He hesitates before rolling down his window.

"Hey," he chokes out.

"Hey," I say back. What else can I say? There's no way it's a coincidence he's here on this day at this time – the exact time we decided to meet last week before we knew our true relationship to each other.

"I just was, uh . . . um," he struggles.

"In the neighborhood?" I prompt because it's the most ridiculous excuse I can think of. I'm almost enjoying myself.

He sighs, tugging at his hair. "I'm a fucking idiot."

Yes, but so am I. "Can I get in?"

He coughs. "What?"

You heard me, Masen. I make a show of hugging myself against the cold, pouting. Maybe it's the alcohol infused into my blood or Alice's hot date that highlights my loneliness, but how can I ignore this?

Again, he hesitates, but silently presses the unlock button.

Taking this as all the confirmation I will get, I shuffle to the passenger side, huddling into the warmth of his car.

"Hey," I say again. It's much quieter in here, muffling the sounds spilling out from the club, the atmosphere different.

"Hey," he repeats. We stare at each other a moment too long. "This is a terrible idea."

"Horrible," I agree.

And then we're kissing without pretensions of gentleness. His lips are mashing against mine painfully, fingers fumbling with the buttons of my coat. I am no better. My hands are instantly on his crotch, every bit as bold, if not bolder, than our first tryst, unzipping his pants.

Even as I feel up my English teacher in a public parking lot, I know I'm crazy. Not just for doing it, but for not caring about how insane it is. Still, I want him. And, if the fingers I feel aggressively creeping up my dress and shoving aside my thong are any indication, he wants me, too.

I'm so sensitive that I flinch when he finds my clit, circling it roughly with his thumb. A moan escapes my throat when he inserts a finger inside me. Fuck, he seems way too good at this – far too coordinated, too attuned to the sensations I like, too aware of my body. It was never like this with Emmett. What makes Edward so different? Am I just a danger junkie?

Like he's heard my thoughts, he says in a husky voice, "So I'm the best you've ever had, huh?"

"Mmhmm," I moan.

"Even just making out did it for you, huh? Tell me," he orders.

Fuck, he's hot. "It was just – ah, right there – it was so intense. And you were kissing my neck. I have a thing about – oh, god – about my neck."

"I saw that goddamned hickey on your neck all week and it drove me fucking insane," he hisses in my ear, fingering me harder. "All I thought about was the way you moaned – kind of like you're moaning now – when I bit you there. Or when I bit you here," he adds, using his free hand to pinch my nipple. "You know how hard I get thinking about these piercings?"

I just moan in response because he's driving me wild, telling me all the things I didn't know I wanted to hear. It's the most I've heard him say at one time, like he's been holding all of it back, finally able to confess his sexual thoughts.

We go on for a while with him rubbing my clit and me stroking him over his boxer briefs, but the feeling is almost too much for me with how sensitive I am. I pull at his forearm so he knows to withdraw his hand and then shift in my seat, turning my body towards him and eyeing the fabric that still covers him.

I pause for a moment, asking for some kind of permission.

Languidly, he brings his finger – that finger – to his mouth and sucks, tasting me. "You're so sweet."

Embarrassed, I duck my head without comment, tugging at his briefs. I barely take time to admire his dick once I free it from its constraints before my mouth is around him, his tip hitting my throat as I abruptly surround him. He's bigger than Emmett, I think errantly. Not longer, at least not by much, but wider.

"Fuuuuck," he groans slowly, hand on the back of my head, fisting my hair.

I hungrily engulf him over and over, liking the rough feeling of it, the desperation. How can I want him this much after everything that's happened tonight?

"Fuck, wait." The hand that was pushing me further down his shaft is now pulling me away. "You're going to make me come."

Damn right, I am.

I ignore him pulling my hair, tightening my lips around him even further, obstinately continuing in the unrelenting rhythm of plunging his cock into my mouth. After a few seconds, he stops trying to remove my ministrations, surrendering.

It doesn't take long. Soon, I hear his strained grunt and taste the salty evidence of his orgasm. Swallowing and delicately lapping at his sensitive head, he shudders before I sit up, brushing back my hair and glancing out the windows to make sure no one saw us. A bit late to check, but oh well.

He looks drained – pretty literally, I suppose. His eyelids are heavy and he's winded, staring at me with disbelief, amazement, and satisfaction.

"Fuck," he says again with a noisy exhale, tucking himself back into his pants. I take it as a compliment. "That didn't last long."

I suppose not, though it felt longer – maybe I'm just really good at giving head. "That's for the best considering where we are," I say.

His eyes widen slightly and he looks around like he's just remembered. "Good point."

My phone buzzes loudly where I discarded it on Edward's dashboard, lighting up with a text. I know it's my ride home without looking. I've taken too long.

"I have to go," I admit sheepishly. I guess I'm Blow-And-Bolt Bella.

"Bella," he breathes, at a loss.

"I know," I whisper.

"If this got out –."

I don't let him finish his sentence. He doesn't need to. "Hey, look at me," I order, staring him down with earnestness. "I am not stupid. I will not do anything to get you in trouble or put you at risk – blowjobs in public parking lots aside," I add as an afterthought because the irony does not escape me.

"You never act your age. Do you know that? It drives me crazy."

"Why?"

"Because it makes it harder to treat you like everybody else. I just wish . . . if you were older, I would ask you on a date."

I don't know how to respond. So it's ok to let me blow him, but not ask me on a date? It's not even like I asked him for a date or expected it of him. Really, I don't know what I expect of him now. Our situation is so hopeless and tangled. I knew that even before I had his dick in my mouth, but my head is clearing.

"I'm not older, though," I acknowledge calmly. "I'm seventeen and there's nothing I can do to change that."

"I know."

"I'm not looking for a relationship from you, Edward. I know that's impossible – at least for now."

"So what are you looking for?" Is he hopeful or anxious? I can't tell.

"I think that's something you need to decide," I say softly. "I want you and I fantasize about you, but you're the one with everything to lose. Nobody on the outside looking in is going to blame me for any of this." I hate the words even as I say them because it's fucked up when we both have pursued each other in turns, but I know the judgments of predator and pedophile will fall on his head.

"You really do act older than your age," he remarks to himself.

But not old enough to know better, I muse.

"I need to go," I repeat, "but I'll understand and try to respect your decision either way." It's not what I imagined as my parting line to him after rounding third base, but I get out of his car anyway without glancing back.

*V*V*V*V*V*