Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to SMeyer, Edward's bad grammar belongs to me.

Ten

I've always been a light sleeper, so when my phone goes off in the middle of the night I almost shoot out of bed, scrambling for the bright yellow light in the dark. With one eye peeled open a little, I squint at the screen, holding it up a few inches from my face.

A new message from an unknown number.

Wrenching my other eye open, I slide my finger across the screen to unlock it.

Nice curtins

I have to blink the sleep out of my eyes a few times.

Yeah. Thanks. Who's this?

Edward

Oh, shit. I sit bolt upright in bed, clutching my cotton sheets to my chest.

Are you outside my house?

Maybe

Almost tripping over my own feet and the piles of clothes on the floor, I run to my window. I feel like fucking Juliet as I pull the window up, wincing as the old wood creaks and the glass rattles. Leaning out of my bedroom window, I see him, spotlighted under the street light in front of my house.

U comin or not.

I roll my eyes at his crappy text spelling and lack of punctuation.

Let me get dressed.

Picking up a crinkled sundress from my floor, I sniff it then throw it over my head, wriggling out of my pajama shorts. Barefoot, I tiptoe past Mick and Jessie's bedroom, and for once, I'm glad Mick has a snore that could rattle the house foundations.

The night is balmy and the concrete path under my feet is still warm from the heat of the day. Pushing the front gate open, I step out onto the sidewalk, watching, as grinning smugly, Edward sidles up beside me. He's still in his clothes from earlier that day, and the sight of him reminds me of our kiss, short and sweet as it was.

The night air smells heavily of jasmine and honeysuckle, the humidity lingering in the air accentuating the lush, earthy smell of the front garden, and of the beach across the road.

"You spend your nights lurking outside girls' bedrooms much?"

Edward lifts his eyebrows, his grin widening. "Only the cute ones."

I scoff at his lame but cute response. He's silly-smooth and he knows it.

"So is there a reason you're standing outside my house at midnight on a weekday?"

He thinks about it for a moment, his blue eyes glinting in the dark. My mind wanders back to the first time I met him, all cocky and self-assured. He seems so different now; quiet, pensive, thoughtful.

"I couldn't sleep," he answers finally.

"So you thought you'd come and wake me up and we could both be awake?"

"Uh-huh."

Digging his hands deep into his pockets, he turns toward the beach, and then looks back at me. "Wanna go for a walk?"

I glance back at the house, the windows dark and silent.

Fuck it. I'm an adult.

"Sure."

He doesn't take my hand, or link my arm with his – Christ, this isn't a Jane Austen novel. But he walks slowly beside me as I pick my way across the road in bare feet. The most I get is his hands on my hips as he directs me past some broken glass on the side of the road. Even the touch of his hands, warm through the thin cotton of my dress, sends waves of goosebumps up the back of my neck.

Without the noise of the road or the squabble of seagulls, the beach is silent except for the waves. I can hear them, smell them, feel the wind rushing off of them – but in the dark, with only the moon above us for light – I can barely see six feet in front of my face.

Edward is quiet, his thongs kicking up sand as we walk down onto the beach slowly. Already he seems more comfortable, like being so close to the water has a calming effect on him. On the beach, he's relaxed, playful almost as he kicks sand at me, dodging my returning spray. We're mucking around, paddling in the toe-deep water, when his fingers wrap around my wrist gently, our laughter quieting before he ducks down to kiss me. The water laps around my ankles, the sand soft and squishy under my feet. All I can think about is that I probably have sleep-breath and that my nipples are about to rip a hole in my favourite sun dress.

Leaving me a little breathless and stunned, he's silent as he leads me back up the beach to the dry sand, where he flops down gracefully, pulling me down beside him.

I tuck my feet up under my butt, my side pressed to his. "You're all about the ninja kisses."

Settling back into the sand, Edward leans over and tugs me gently until I'm straddling his lap.

"Would you rather I asked you next time?"

His mouth opens a little, and he sighs quietly as I brush my fingers across his brow, lifting his hair from his forehead.

"No. I'd just like to be prepared next time is all."

He bends his knees up behind me, and with my back pressed against his legs and my knees in the sand, his hands skim my outer thighs softly.

"Are you ready now?" he asks, and I can feel his breath across my collarbone; steady as his fingers find their way up and under my dress and around the soft flesh of my hips.

Nodding, I hear him swallow as he looks up at me, his eyes locked on my lips as I lean down to kiss him gently. The touch of my mouth against his sends jolts of electricity skittering across my skin, and my entire body relaxes into his, moulding to his shape.

There's something in the way he kisses me. I don't know what it is, but it feels different, makes me feel different. I've never been kissed in a way that can light my whole body on fire from toes to fingertips. I've never been kissed by someone who can make me feel sexy and wanted just with the touch of his lips. My body has never responded the way it does around Edward. But then, I've never been kissed by someone like Edward.

His hands grasp my hips gently, before sliding back down my thighs and up again. Although the night is warm, his movements cause an eruption of goosebumps; a shiver up my spine.

Breathing deeply, his nose skims the side of my neck, dipping into the hollow of my collarbone. Mumbling something quietly, he kisses his way across my décolletage and back up my neck, over my chin, to my lips. His shoulders are lean and wiry beneath my hands, all angles and hard bone. But underneath that I can feel the strength he holds in his sinewy body; the powerful muscles built by years of swimming and paddling. Slipping my fingers under the collar of his t-shirt, I wrap my hands around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. With a thump, he falls backwards into the sand with me still atop his lap.

As we kiss, there are moments when I can feel him burning beneath me, when his hands will wander and his kisses intensify. But right when I think he's going to do something, as his fingers skim the band of my underwear – he pulls away, his body slackens, his kisses become less urgent. I sigh inwardly as our kisses turn lazy and slow, their urgency waning as I sink into him. His hands drift back to my sides, protected by the material of my dress.

"What are you doing to me, Bella Swan?" he says with a shuddering sigh.

Resting my chin on his chest, I smile up at him, gazing at the perfectly cut line of his jaw as he stares up at the starry sky.

"I'm just being me."

Lifting his head a little, he looks down at me.

"I know, that's the problem."