The Twilight Saga Collection part 2(5)

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.

“That’s debatable,” he disagreed. “This would be difficult on a couch.”

Cold as ice, his tongue lightly traced the shape of my lips.

My head was spinning — the air was coming too fast and shallow.

“Did you change your mind?” I asked breathlessly. Maybe he’d rethought all his careful rules. Maybe there was more significance to this bed than I’d originally guessed. My heart pounded almost painfully as I waited for his answer.

Edward sighed, rolling back so that we were on our sides again.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Bella,” he said, disapproval strong in his voice — clearly, he understood what I meant. “I was just trying to illustrate the benefits of the bed you don’t seem to like. Don’t get carried away.”

“Too late,” I muttered. “And I like the bed,” I added.

“Good.” I could hear the smile in his voice as he kissed my forehead. “I do, too.”

“But I still think it’s unnecessary,” I continued. “If we’re not going to get carried away, what’s the point?”

He sighed again. “For the hundredth time, Bella — it’s too dangerous.”

“I like danger,” I insisted.

“I know.” There was a sour edge to his voice, and I realized that he would have seen the motorcycle in the garage.

“I’ll tell you what’s dangerous,” I said quickly, before he could move to a new topic of discussion. “I’m going to spontaneously combust one of these days — and you’ll have no one but yourself to blame.”

He started to push me away.

“What are you doing?” I objected, clinging to him.

“Protecting you from combustion. If this too much for you. . . .”

“I can handle it,” I insisted.

He let me worm myself back into the circle of his arms.

“I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make you unhappy. That wasn’t nice.”

“Actually, it was very, very nice.”

He took a deep breath. “Aren’t you tired? I should let you sleep.”