"Fresh off last week's decided victory against Boise State,

Edward Cullen sits atop the QB CFB rankings." ~ESPN College Football Tweet

~*~Bella~*~

Who in the world said such things? I shot an annoyed look at his profile as he navigated the Jeep off the interstate. And brushing against me as he checked my seatbelt. The arrogant jock knew just what effect he had on me and practically taunted me with it. Worse than arrogant; he was an utter ass.

I adjusted my hold on the boho bag in my lap as Edward turned the Jeep back onto the main road heading north toward campus. Wind whipped my hair free of its ponytail as he accelerated into traffic, but I gripped the strap of my bag like a lifeline. Thankfully, between the wind and the roar of the huge tires on pavement, I couldn't have engaged Edward in conversation even if I'd wanted to.

…when I kiss you later…

I shivered despite the heat of the sun burning down on me through the open Jeep rooftop.

If I could say something, what would it be? I'd already asked him what the hell was happening. And his answer...this congratulatory date...was it even a date? If not a date, what exactly was happening?

…when I kiss you…

My lips burned, and I tamped down the urge to run my tongue over them, knowing the instant I did something like that, he'd glance my way and know exactly where my thoughts had strayed—to his lips, touching mine, caressing mine. Ye gods. Would he taste of the mint gum he'd popped a moment ago? My pulse fluttered. I feared the potential of his kiss even more than I craved it. But the sinking feeling in my belly at the idea that he meant to just tease me, that he didn't really mean to kiss me, contradicted that thought quickly enough.

I focused on keeping the bag in my lap, not wanting it to slide to the dirty floorboard, as he traveled surface streets and took us into the University District. This area of Seattle housed not only all the sorority and frat houses, but all the shops and coffee houses that catered to them. My favorite running trail also skirted the edge, and when he swerved into the parking lot giving access to the trail via a little park, I realized this was our destination. The lush green glades edged with majestic conifers usually tugged me into a state of centered relaxation, but this afternoon, even with the familiar burn of tired muscles after the bout, I seemed immune.

The park was little more than a grassy area with a few picnic tables. Essentially, it was a place to park and take off running or biking along the B-G Trail, along with plenty of Greeks doing what my Grams would call promenading along the path. Edward pulled into an empty spot, jumped down from the driver's seat and came quickly around to my side.

I clenched my eyes closed for a brief moment, praying for a touch of clarity, before unbuckling the seatbelt. Swiveling in my seat, I faced him. With my feet hitched on the door ledge, my knees poked out level with Edward's chest. The second before I would have jumped out, he wrapped his large hand around my left ankle.

A firestorm of heat lit my every nerve. My fingers seized the edge of the seat. He lifted my foot off the ledge, running his long, strong fingers across the top of my foot, skimming the straps of my sandal. My thoughts scattered, pinging around inside my mind like a rabid pinball machine. My flesh burned with such intensity, I leaned forward and eyed my skin for damage. The sight of Edward's utterly masculine hand touching me proved as jarring as his physical caress.

The sounds of passing joggers, car stereos, traffic from The Ave—everything—faded until all I heard was the sound of my own breath, short, staccato, on the cusp of revealing too much.

…when I kiss you later…

I sucked in a deep, steadying breath, my eyes still trained on the hand engulfing my foot.

The ass. He's messing with me. Again.

The insecure little girl inside me, the one who'd spent two years filled with imaginings of her fantasy man, insisted his interest couldn't be genuine.

He's amused by me.

That same insecure girl searched his face for a hint of mockery, ridicule…

Instead, what I saw were lips kicked up at the corner in what I was coming to recognize as his cocky almost-smile. An almost-smile that begged investigating. What I wouldn't do to know what thoughts brought that expression to the carved planes of his face.

My pulse hammered at the notion of coming to know him well enough to even have an inkling as to what traipsed through his wickedly complicated mind. I remembered the amused glint in his eye when I'd approached him at That Place, where I'd recklessly issued the dare that now had me sitting here, at once curious, excited, terrified, and determined—so determined. I needed to know if I was right and there was more than the obvious when it came to Edward Cullen.

Because after witnessing the confrontation between him and Derek in the community center parking lot, there could no longer be any doubt as to the fact that Edward had depths, not unexpected, and so intriguing as to weaken my already paltry defenses. So while I recognized that he liked to mess with people's heads, I possessed no evidence as to what could possibly be his motivation for rubbing his thumb over the musical notes of my tattoo as if he could coax them to auditory life.

Still had no clue why he'd accepted my dare and shown at the derby bout.

I clutched the edge of the bucket seat tighter and searched his gorgeous features, desperate for some hint, even as my mind skated hesitantly around the edge of a previously unfathomable concept.

Sure, I'd told Alice I'd be open to Edward.

And yeah, I'd issued my dare, emboldened by his cocky attitude in the diner.

Told myself I would explore my attraction to the campus hot shot…But now, now, I felt put on the spot, careening headlong into a situation that had me so far out of my comfort zone, I almost felt scared of my own shadow.

The strange, exciting, intimidating possibility was that Edward Cullen might truly be attracted to me, too. The thought blinked from the dark recesses of my mind, neon-bright, teasing, taunting, arousing.

I sat nervously at the edge of the seat, my eyes glued again to his hand holding my ankle hostage, his thumb smoothing over the dark notes. I risked another quick glance up toward his face, but his attention seemed fixed on my ankle, on the tattoo I'd had inked into my skin two years ago, when I'd accepted that moving forward for me meant moving away. The song touched a chord inside me that to this day remained a little sensitive, a little confusing. As confusing as the emotions ricocheting through me now.

"You requested Rhinoceros at the rally, didn't you?"

I jerked, almost yanking my ankle from his grasp, but he held tight and finally brought his gaze up to meet mine. He smiled, almost softly, definitely knowingly, as he stared back at me. I struggled not to look away, wanting this, wanting the connection, even as shock took a harsh grip on my senses. He recognized the musical inspiration behind my tattoo. I parted my lips to speak, but found nothing to shove through my foggy mind, feeling the scorch of his look as intensely as his hand's caress.

"Tell you straight up, Derby Girl, so you can stop freaking out. You snagged my curiosity the instant I saw this tattoo." He rubbed across the top of my foot once more, then reached in, grasped me around the waist and tugged me down from the Jeep to stand caged between him and the vehicle, the top of my head barely reaching his chin. "Today you locked it down."

I stood there mute, mortified that he knew I was freaking out inside and wrenchingly optimistic. He towered over me, immovable. His lingering proximity had me wondering if the moment might have arrived. Did he mean to kiss me now? But then he reached down to grasp my hand, tugging me away from the Jeep and toward the sidewalk leading away from the park and toward The Ave.

The Ave, dotted with eateries of every design—from the Samurai Noodle and the Burger and Kabob Hut to Starbucks and Subway—overflowed with people. Clever signboards decorated the path as pedestrians wove and shuffled up and down the walk.

"How about Duke's for a celebratory picnic, Derby Girl?"

I swallowed past a lump of nervousness. "Sounds great."

He led us through the people, angling his larger frame in a way that I barely felt the press of passersby. Between the parking lot and the entrance to Duke's, we were stopped three times. Edward had his back repeatedly clapped in that man-to-man way. I'd never really seen how the general public treated him before. While students revered him as the reigning king of the campus, here people easily old enough to be his parents stopped him, attempting to engage him in football conversation amid forced handshakes and commentary on his game yesterday. They spoke to him with the uninhibited familiarity of fans. While he accepted their compliments with aplomb, he didn't linger, and he never released my hand.

With a little rush, I realized that no matter who surrounded him, regardless of the crowd that came and went as we walked down the sidewalk, Edward never let me get too far from his side. He adjusted his position constantly, protectively shielding me from the streaming pedestrians and his admirers alike. I was conscious of being the subject of more than one curious look. Part of me wanted to slink back under the covers of anonymity, but the heady warmth of his hand tethering mine felt too good.

Finally, we reached the deli shop front, chunky lettering scrawling out Duke's. Edward pulled open the glass door, dropping my hand only to settle his at the small of my back as he guided me inside. I felt his touch through the lacy fabric of my shirt, the simple caress sending heat through my system, curling my toes in my sandals. My breath caught, and I almost tripped over my own feet but quickly steadied myself to join the line shuffling along the deli counter.

"Not exactly a five-star victory dinner, but can't go wrong with a Duke's sandwich spur of the moment."

I looked up, saw a flash of question in his eyes. "No," I said, bemused by that momentary look of hesitance and feeling compelled to reassure him. "Duke's makes the best turkey and Swiss. Always a line out the door on Saturdays when I run by."

"You run every Saturday?"

I nodded, the low timbre of his voice easing away more of my reticence. "Yeah, usually. During the week, I keep it closer to campus, but on Saturdays I usually run out here."

We moved forward as the line shifted, and Edward motioned for me to give my order. He did the same, and then we moved along with the others toward the checkout.

"You said at That Place that today was your day of rest. That derby shit is not rest."

With a soft laugh, I disagreed. "It's all relative."

We'd reached the end of the counter and an array of sweets and chips beckoned. He nodded at the display with a cocked brow. I started to shake my head in the negative, but then he rolled his eyes and grabbed two packages of peanut M&Ms, as well as a couple of bottles of water from the ice bucket before digging out his wallet.

Unbidden, a little groan escaped me as I snatched up one package of the M&Ms, replacing it with plain. "Nuts," I told him with authority, "do not belong in my chocolate."

He laughed and I felt myself start to relax even more. Date or pseudo-date, Edward Cullen pulled at every part of me. He finished paying, grabbed our bag and returned his hand to my back to guide us outside.

"Anyway," he said as we moved in the direction of the trail head. "Today was not a day of rest, Sugar Rush."

Back on the busy sidewalk, I followed his lead and kept up my end of the conversation. We seemed to be interrupted less, and we quickly reached the trailhead park. "You know how some people claim they love the endorphin rush of running? That's not me. Running is work." He laughed at my emphasis. "But derby is a blast."

"Yeah, could tell. Doesn't hurt that you kicked ass."

My belly flipped at the sound of approval in his voice. "I guess you'd know about that."

He made a sound of agreement, grasped my hand and led us to one of the picnic tables lining the paved trail. The area was popular with students and locals alike, solidly within the University District and close to The Ave. Joggers swerved around those who were on more of a casual stroll, but more than one head turned in our direction as Edward settled us at a weather-beaten, wooden table. He pulled out the sandwiches, passing mine across the table along with a bottle of water.

"Sit," he said. "Eat and ignore the crowd."

Not too long ago, I would have thought it impossible to ignore the curious and persistent stares, but after spending so much time so close to Edward, I suddenly found it easy to forget all about the smartphones aimed in our direction.

"So, little Meagan gave me an idea about what was going on, and it was obvious you were kicking ass at your bout. I saw the signs, the fans. You're full of surprises, Sugar Rush."

I shot him a shaky smile, remembering his once-over at the community center of my derby costume. I wanted to believe in the male appreciation I'd seen in his eyes, appreciation that lingered still. However, my rational side lectured keeping perspective, years of going unnoticed leaving a lasting impression. But I'd wanted this, an opportunity to be more than the shy, anonymous girl of the past two years. My belly fluttered with apprehension, delicately laced with a yearning sort of anticipation. Something of my emotions must have been reflected on my face, as he stopped chewing to demand my attention.

"Bella."

His gentle voice wrapped around my name, warm, coaxing. Another heartbeat, and the silence lengthened uncomfortably. I finally raised my eyes to his. An almost-smile played about his lips, while humor, simple and not unkind, showed in his green eyes.

… kiss you…

Of their own volition, my eyes dropped to his quirking mouth.

No way to unthink his provocative words. Who told a girl he intended to kiss her later and then expected her to act normally?

My own lips burned, and I wondered when exactly would be later. His almost-smile grew into a sexy curve, and I had my answer. He knew saying what he had would leave me wondering and wanting, practically putty in his arrogant hands. I rolled my eyes.

"Bella, Bella, Bella. Like pulling teeth." He laughed before taking a huge bite of his sandwich.

I reined in my rampant thoughts and took a bite of my own.

"How long have you been skating?"

"Since last year."

"You're good."

I ducked my head again, quickly taking another bite.

"Get over it, Sugar Rush." He reached across the table, smoothed his thumb over the corner of my mouth. My gaze jerked back up to his to watch, fascinated, as he sucked that thumb between his own lips.

Desire unfurled low in my belly.

His eyes glinted with awareness. "Missed a little mustard."

…when I kiss you later…

"And remember, I've seen the tutu now."

I brought my mind back online, cocked my head to the side questioningly.

"No chick who kicks ass in a tutu can carry off this shy act for long."

Pleasure suffused me, sinking deep, taking root. His tone, coated in amusement but with a strong thread of respect, rippled down my spine.

Enough.

So what if I walked away from Edward Cullen with a broken heart? Grams would call the experience character-building. I'd spent my life planning every move, living in the shadow of my mother's mistakes, with even my tentative steps into adventure strictly regulated. Whatever was happening here, whatever his motivations for suddenly turning his attention my way—it was out of my control. I'd learned long ago not to attempt to control the actions of others, or even to understand them.

But I could control my own behavior. I'd started down this path by issuing the dare, and I liked that girl, the one who stood toe-to-toe with him. This freaking out ended now, today—this very instant. Exploring this attraction didn't mean I would be leaping into his bed. It meant I would give in to the raging curiosity of experiencing the pleasure of his company and attention on my own terms.

Enough.

"I added the tutu this year. Before that, Alice had me in a pink plaid schoolgirl skirt."

He grinned, propping one forearm on the table. "I like the tutu."

Mischief flickered in his eyes, sucking me in. With the planes of his face etched in pure masculine perfection, his muscular athlete's body an erotic promise my inner whore delighted in, I struggled to carry on my end of the conversation and not be swamped by my attraction to him. "What was that scene with Derek?"

"The tool in the parking lot?" A muscle along the square cut of his jaw jerked.

I nodded. "You had him shoved onto the car…?"

He slowly chewed another bite, his gaze focused over my shoulder. He stared for so long I was a second away from turning to look before he finally answered. "He was talking shit to your girl. I didn't like it."

I refused to feel turned on by his defense of my favorite Little. Then I caved to the lie and simply refused to let myself dwell on the feeling. "Like you did the other night?"

He shifted on the bench, bringing his gaze back to mine. "Had a bad night, Sugar. Shouldn't have taken it out on you guys."

Satisfaction welled within me, smoothing over the wrinkles in my conscience associated with his previous bigotry. "Shouldn't have said what you did. Meagan's got enough to worry about without the local hero being…derisive."

He sat back, surprise sharpening his features. "Okay, then."

"Though you probably redeemed yourself in her eyes by handling Derek."

"How about in your eyes, Sugar?"

I was fast coming to love the sound of that nickname on his tongue. A small part of me still wanted to dive for cover, tuck myself away under a blanket of anonymity as had regretfully become habit. But a larger part yearned to bask in the light of his charm. "Possibly in mine, too," I admitted. "Do you ever call anyone by their real name?"

He grinned, balling up his sandwich wrapper. "You were right there not fifteen minutes ago—that walk to the deli should have taken five minutes. Instead, it took thirty. And that was mild. You remember any of those introductions? No? Yeah, that would be why I've stopped trying."

Surprised at that bit of honesty, I laughed. "You don't even realize how that sounds, do you?"

"What?"

"You've been calling me Derby Girl for days, and now you tell me remembering names is too much trouble."

"Ah, but you, Bella Swan, your name I remember."

Sensual awareness became a heavy thrum in my bloodstream, anticipation a sweet flavor on my tongue. I wanted that kiss. I wanted that kiss now. After two years of admiring from a distance, the prospect of kissing my fantasy guy had me greedy now.

"Derby Girl seemed to fit before. I saw today it's not exactly right." He stretched his arm along the side of the table, letting his hand come to rest near mine. He flicked the row of bangles at my wrist. "No clue there were so many derby girls." He shifted, his finger leaving the bracelet to trace along the back of my hand, and I wondered if he could see the fine hairs along my arm prickle in response. "But Sugar Rush…only one of those."

Beneath the table, my foot began to bounce, hyper speed, but I held his gaze as his fingers continued to play along the top of my hand, along my bracelets, teasing, arousing. And this time, it was his gaze that dropped to my lips. Maybe when I kiss you later…I vibrated with anticipation. My lips tingled, and I fought not to flick my tongue out to moisten them.

"Edward!"

I jumped, the loud female voice bringing me crashing back to earth. The blonde from the rally Friday night moved quickly from the paved trail to our table. She sported a wide smile, extra friendly, just for Edward. "What are you doing here?"

Edward grimaced, irritation darkening his expression. "Having lunch."

Hearing the duh in his voice, I couldn't resist a rude little snort. Luckily, I'd just sipped from my bottle of water and quickly covered it with a cough. "Wrong pipe."

Edward flicked my bracelets again, the jangling yanking my gaze back to him in time to see his jaw pop and the corners of his eyes crinkle with barely restrained laughter.

"Like a date?"

I didn't know the answer to that either, but the incredulity in the blonde's voice raised my hackles.

"Yeah, we're on a date." His confirmation rang with male satisfaction. "Sugar here is giving me some QB tips."

"Wow, that's great, Edward!"

When I snorted this time, the bottle was firmly planted atop the table, leaving me no fake cough to hide behind. Her gaze narrowed in my direction and then quickly turned back to Edward.

Obviously, she viewed me as vying for the coveted space at his side. But she lacked one important bit of background. During my freshman year, I'd stood dead center of the U'Dub campus—thousands of miles from anything familiar. My eyes didn't scan the new skyline, nor did the scent of the Pacific Ocean penetrate. But the sight of an eighteen year old Edward Cullen, his form exuding a world of unbound potential and endless possibilities—the sight of him rooted me. As the weeks and months passed, as his youthful eagerness evolved into a cocky swagger, my fascination kept pace.

So now, when on this languid Sunday afternoon it seemed as though the whimsical and lurid imaginings of the past years might come to fruition—her dismissive, condescending attitude left me unfazed. She was simply another of the many Plastics I'd met—transparent and immaterial. While I'd watched Edward lap up their attention before, I had nothing to lose today, and I was at peace with whatever this episode turned into.

"Yeah, it is." He leaned back, his shirt pulling taut over wide shoulders, the corded tendons of his neck tightening and releasing as he picked up the remnants of our lunch. "Sug's giving me pointers on reading the defense, when to put on the pressure, how to avoid the sack." He grinned. "All good stuff for the next game."

I felt my skin warm, picking up on the sensual innuendo of my so-called QB tips, even as my lips stretched into a smile at his subtle teasing.

Seemingly oblivious, the blonde sidled closer, sliding her hand along his bicep. "I don't see how you could play any better than you did yesterday. Everyone's talking about it."

I rolled my eyes. No wonder he had an ego the size of a continent if this was the crap spewed in his direction every day. I understood fans, but this naked and obvious effort at seduction seemed to have nothing to do with his quarterback skills and everything to do with his celebrity status.

I snatched up a package of M&Ms from the paper bag, ripping open a corner. I popped one into my mouth then felt something heavy move under the table. Edward's leg slid against mine, the brush of denim on my bare calf a pleasant abrasion. Looking up, my gaze tangled with his. Humor and mischief danced in his green gaze, the connection freeing something inside me.

Maybe when I kiss you later, things'll become a little more clear to you.

His intentions were no clearer to me now than they were an hour ago, but as he continued to shift and slide his leg against mine under the table beneath the scrutiny of the blonde, that something in me shifted a little more, easing me back into a sort of comfort zone with one decided difference. In this rendition, Edward Cullen wasn't a larger than life, distant fantasy, but rather a flesh and blood reality. The shift was at once reassuring and invigorating. New confidence infused me. I wondered what his lips would feel like against mine. Would they feel as soft as they looked? Like silk sliding, seducing? Or would he be more aggressive? His touch pushing me in the direction he wanted me to go, that I wanted to go, firm and demanding with a hint of coaxing to soothe away my inhibitions?

"Yeah," he said then, drawing me back, his low voice a rumble thrumming into my bloodstream. "This is some good shit."

I knew if I could drag my gaze away from Edward, I'd look up to see a baffled look on the other girl's face. But nothing on the planet could have made me look away.

"Well, it's really great that I found you, Edward. What can I do to persuade you to be a judge for Greek Factor?"

She chattered away, relentless, and finally snagged his attention by tugging on his t-shirt. Edward broke our staring contest, and we both looked up at the Plastic. "What?"

"My sorority is co-hosting it in two weeks—you know, a talent show like X Factor? Dr. Tyler, the head of the arts department, and Tanya Denali have committed, but we need you to make the perfect triumvirate!"

I snickered again at her enthusiastic annunciation and then mentally slapped the back of my own hand for being so judgmental. In an effort to be a grown-up, I contributed, "Rosalie is competing."

The blonde looked at me as though seeing me for the first time. "Rosalie Hale?"

"Yeah." I nodded. "She's trying to include me and Alice in her act, but we haven't agreed yet."

"But you will," Edward said.

With a smile, I confirmed. "She's my girl, and this sort of thing is right up her alley."

He looked up at the blonde. "Gotta clear it with Coach, but if he says yes, I'll do it."

She squealed, digging her fingers into Edward's bicep again. "This is so great, Edward! Can't wait to tell the sisters!"

An instant later, she whirled around and took off toward the parking lot. Before she disappeared from view, I caught sight of her mashing away on her phone. I turned back to Edward. "Is it always like that?"

He cocked his head to the side. "Like what?"

"I mean, I knew, but I guess I didn't really know, you know?" I laughed. "I mean, I know I spaz, but—" I broke off, felt myself flush, but then powered on. "I guess I just didn't realize it was so constant and so…um…" I searched for the right word. "Surface."

He looked startled. As he swallowed another big gulp of water, his Adam's apple slid along the strong contours of his neck, and I lost my train of thought. He slammed the water bottle back on the table. "How often do you have these derby bouts?"

I blinked, the shift in conversation catching me off guard. His swing from clever charmer back to arrogant ass should have sent me running for the hills. Perhaps it was a lack of survival instinct, or an overly forgiving nature, but whatever it was, I accepted his change in conversation and answered his question. "Usually every two weeks."

He stood abruptly, balling up my forgotten sandwich wrapper, handing me my water and M&Ms with a taut grin. "Let's go."

This time, my hackles did threaten to rise. I felt as though I'd delivered a piece of required information during an interview, not shared a tidbit about my life that he might be interested in. I pushed up and away from the table, thinking about the flashes of secrets in his eyes, of the way his touch on my skin sent my senses spinning in a way I'd never experienced before. Open eyes. I'm going into this with open eyes—he doesn't want to talk about the fact that from the outside looking in, his main attraction for girls seemed to be based less on him and more on his celebrity. Fine. Intrigued as I was, recognizing how that sort of relationship would be anathema to me, he was Edward Cullen and his choices were his own.

We made our way back to the Jeep. He accompanied me to the passenger side again, but I turned to try and pull myself up. He settled a hand on my hip, staying my progress. "What the fuck, Sugar?"

His hand grazed my thigh. A purple bruise darkened the skin along the outside of my thigh, a battle prize from the bout. "It's not bad, and the only one this time, I think." Others might rise over the next few hours or days, but the one on my thigh from a hard landing would be the worst. "I'll put a little arnica on it tonight."

He turned me, then, with strong, sure motions to quickly and easily lift me up into the Jeep. His expression was contemplative, and I wondered again what he was thinking. Within moments, he had us on the road back to my dorm. We didn't try to talk over the roar of the mammoth tires or the rush of the wind, but that was okay, because my mind had fixed on what was important.

Later was fast approaching.

~*~FotW~*~

"Admit it, you had a good time hanging out."

My lips tilted a little at the corner, though I didn't look up. I hid behind the fall of my hair but owned up to the fact I wouldn't conceal. "It's true."

He liked my answer, his chest expanding with a satisfied breath. After the exchange with the Plastic at the trailhead, I suspected my transparency came as a surprise. But I wouldn't hide anymore, wouldn't refrain from sharing my thoughts. I was in, balls deep as the guys liked to say, and willing now to explore whatever this was with Edward. Whether it lasted another minute, a week, a month, whatever—it didn't matter.

Before today, I hadn't comprehended how completely he was immersed in the public eye, how very much the focus of speculation and curiosity. I'd seen the people pointing at the bout, almost felt swept away by the crowd on the sidewalk, and finally been subjected to the near-worshipful gushing of the Plastic during our picnic. My freaking out now seemed mild in comparison.

Added to that, I knew he was used to girls teasing him, so caught up in the flirt they dismissed the value of authenticity. Saying one thing, meaning something else. I'd laughed about it with Alice and Rose over the last two years. For myself, I simply didn't have that kind of energy. Keeping up with Edward Cullen was challenge enough.

We'd stopped at the entrance to my dorm. He propped his hand high on the brick wall behind me, caging me in and making it clear he wasn't ready to let me slip through the glass doors a few feet away. Did he expect an invitation up? His position brought him into close proximity, the warmth of his body seeping into me. A hazy glow of twilight shrouded the campus, the hour still early enough that plenty of people passed by, though they moved in a slow, distant montage I barely registered.

This was it. When I kiss you later…The kiss he'd promised. My breath caught even as a shiver danced deliciously along my spine. My fantasy guy was going to kiss me. I could feel it coming like an electrical pulse tingling across my skin, heightening my awareness, inebriating my senses.

"Full of the unexpected, Sugar," he said in a low murmur, tipping my face up with a finger curled beneath my chin to search my expression.

What did he see? Could he see my nervous apprehension? Or maybe my unrelenting desire? Heat filled my cheeks. I blinked up at him, waiting, curious, wanting. The moment dragged out, not uncomfortable, but rather with certain knowledge of what was to come. The undercurrent that had hummed between us all afternoon finally rose up, no longer subdued by polite social mores.

"Time for that kiss, Bella."

His fingers turned me to face him directly. I struggled to inhale, felt my breath hitch. I clutched my boho bag, my fingers clenched around the strap in a death grip. I stood immobile, passive, receptive, willing his lips to lower to mine. I flicked my tongue out and over my lower lip, hunger making them burn.

He groaned above me, deep and gruff, even as his head dipped closer. I sensed the shift in his demeanor. I tilted my head up, his strong hand still cupping my face, my eyes fixed on his and I read the intelligence, the intent, as clearly as if he'd spoken. I fed off the desire in his eyes and tilted my head to the side, nuzzling my cheek against his hand. My whisper slipped into the air between us, a quiet invitation. "I think I might kiss you back."

My words tipped us over the precipice, and he closed the distance. He pressed a soft, closed-mouth kiss to one corner of my lips, startling me with the gentleness of his touch, then dragged his nose along my cheek until his breath fanned the hair at my temple. He breathed into my ear. "Oh, you'll kiss me back, Sugar."

I shifted, a little buckle forward, my knees almost dropping me as the heat of his whisper coursed through me. In a desperate attempt to stay standing, I dropped my bag and fisted my hands in his shirt. "Make it worth my while, Seven."

He grinned, obviously loving the challenge lacing in my words, the teasing. His eyes searched my face one more time, and I allowed my interest, my curiosity to shine through. I was in, in deep and uncaring of consequences.

"Sugar, that's not going to be a problem."

I'd never wanted to kiss a man more in my life. I wanted his mouth on mine. I wanted to kiss the hell out of him, wanted him to kiss me until I lost my breath and forgot all about second guessing my every move.

His mouth descended and I moved onto my tiptoes to meet him halfway. If I never had this opportunity again, I was going to make the most of it now. My lips parted, welcoming. He sucked in my upper lip, dragging a little moan of surprise from deep within me. He angled his head to cover my lips then as he explored and teased and enticed.

This kiss needed to last forever.

Better.

The thought reverberated through me, and I knew I was in trouble.

Whatever cautionary lectures I had steeped myself in, nothing prepared me for the reality of kissing Edward Cullen.

Even better than expected.

Tomorrow, I would relive this kiss. Think about how it was the most intense, arousing exchange I'd ever had.

But tonight I tightened my fists in his shirt, conscious of him pulling me closer, fitting me against him. Of his big hands threaded into my ponytail, holding me still for his carnal devouring of my mouth.

We parted for an instant, and I sucked in a desperate breath. His lips moved against the edge of my jaw, soft little kisses that spoke of gentleness, even as his powerful body caged mine. Hovering just over my mouth, he spoke, his lips brushing mine with each rumbling syllable. "I'm gonna need more of these now."

I pressed forward this time, initiating another immediately. I flicked my tongue against his lower lip before sliding against his mouth, hot, wet, slick. His growl tantalized me. He hauled me up, his thigh moving between mine, my suddenly over-sensitive breasts crushed into the implacable strength of his chest.

"Fuck's sake, take it upstairs."

The harsh, laughing words doused me in ice water. I'd forgotten where we were, that it wasn't even dark, that we could be seen by everyone entering and leaving my dorm.

He took a step back, running his hand through his hair, muttering something that sounded like "fucking Twitter", then nodded toward the door. "Head on up, Sugar. I'll catch you tomorrow."

Just as his words registered, my phone beeped. By force of habit, I slowly dug it out, tore my confused gaze from his retreating form, and stared blankly at the screen. A text from Alice glared up at me. "Girl, you are outted! Call me, ASAP!"

A/N: Much love and gratitude to The Lemonade Stand for including FotW in their recommendations recently. There's simply no way to explain the rush! Swear I walked three feet off the ground for days afterward.

Also, in exciting news, FotW now has two fabulous and permanent betas. Thank you, Jenny and Bree, for agreeing to take this story on. Honored and excited to have you on my side!

And jayhawkbb, my not-afraid-to-give-it-to-you-straight friend. Thanks for helping me stay on track and not take the easy path. Grateful doesn't even cover it.