"Maybe you'll get lucky," I said bleakly, lurching to my feet. "Maybe I'll get hit by a truck on my way back."
I grabbed my motorcycle and pushed it out into the rain. He didn't move as I passed him. As soon as I was on the small, muddy path, I climbed on and kicked the bike to life. The rear tire spit a fountain of mud toward the garage, and I hoped that it hit him.
I got absolutely soaked as I sped across the slick highway toward the Cullens' house. The wind felt like it was freezing the rain against my skin, and my teeth were chattering before I was halfway there.
Motorcycles were too impractical for Washington. I would sell the stupid thing first chance I got.
I walked the bike into the Cullens' cavernous garage and was unsurprised to find Alice waiting for me, perched lightly on the hood of her Porsche. Alice stroked the glossy yellow paint.
"I haven't even had a chance to drive it." She sighed.
"Sorry," I spit through my rattling teeth.
"You look like you could use a hot shower," she said, offhand, as she sprang lightly to her feet.
"Yep."
She pursed her lips, taking in my expression carefully. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Nope."
She nodded in assent, but her eyes were raging with curiosity.
"Do you want to go to Olympia tonight?"
"Not really. Can't I go home?"
She grimaced.
"Never mind, Alice," I said. "I'll stay if it makes things easier for you."
"Thanks," she sighed in relief.
I went to bed early that night, curling up on his sofa again.
It was still dark when I woke. I was groggy, but I knew it wasn't near morning yet. My eyes closed, and I stretched, rolling over. It took me a second before I realized that the movement should have dumped me onto the floor. And that I was much too comfortable.
I rolled back over, trying to see. It was darker than last night-the clouds were too thick for the moon to shine through.
"Sorry," he murmured so softly that his voice was part of the darkness. "I didn't mean to wake you."
I tensed, waiting for the fury-both his and mine-but it was only quiet and calm in the darkness of his room. I could almost taste the sweetness of reunion in the air, a separate fragrance from the perfume of his breath; the emptiness when we were apart left its own bitter aftertaste, something I didn't consciously notice until it was removed.
There was no friction in the space between us. The stillness was peaceful-not like the calm before the tempest, but like a clear night untouched by even the dream of a storm.
And I didn't care that I was supposed to be angry with him. I didn't care that I was supposed to be angry with everyone. I reached out for him, found his hands in the darkness, and pulled myself closer to him. His arms encircled me, cradling me to his chest. My lips searched, hunting along his throat, to his chin, till I finally found his lips.
Edward kissed me softly for a moment, and then he chuckled.
"I was all braced for the wrath that was going to put grizzlies to shame, and this is what I get? I should infuriate you more often."
"Give me a minute to work up to it," I teased, kissing him again.
"I'll wait as long as you want," he whispered against my lips. His fingers knotted in my hair.
My breath was becoming uneven. "Maybe in the morning."
"Whatever you prefer."
"Welcome home," I said while his cold lips pressed under my jaw. "I'm glad you came back."
"That's a very good thing."
"Mmm," I agreed, tightening my arms around his neck.
His hand curved around my elbow, moving slowly down my arm, across my ribs and over my waist, tracing along my hip and down my leg, around my knee. He paused there, his hand curling around my calf. He pulled my leg up suddenly, hitching it around his hip.
I stopped breathing. This wasn't the kind of thing he usually allowed. Despite his cold hands, I felt suddenly warm. His lips moved in the hollow at the base of my throat.
"Not to bring on the ire prematurely," he whispered, "but do you mind telling me what it is about this bed that you object to?"
Before I could answer, before I could even concentrate enough to make sense of his words, he rolled to the side, pulling me on top of him. He held my face in his hands, angling it up so that his mouth could reach my throat. My breathing was too loud-it was almost embarrassing, but I couldn't care quite enough to be ashamed.
"The bed?" he asked again. "I think it's nice."
"It's unnecessary," I managed to gasp.
He pulled my face back to his, and my lips shaped themselves around his. Slowly this time, he rolled till he hovered over me. He held himself carefully so that I felt none of his weight, but I could feel the cool marble of his body press against mine. My heart was hammering so loudly that it was hard to hear his quiet laughter.