Eclipse - Stephenie Meyer [144]
“Then don’t refuse,” I suggested breathlessly.
He didn’t respond.
“Please,” I tried again.
“Bella . . .” He shook his head slowly, but it didn’t feel like a denial as his face, his lips, moved back and forth across my throat. It felt more like surrender. My heart, racing already, spluttered frantically.
Again, I took what advantage I could. When his face turned toward mine with the slow movement of his indecision, I twisted quickly in his arms till my lips reached his. His hands seized my face, and I thought he was going to push me away again.
I was wrong.
His mouth was not gentle; there was a brand-new edge of conflict and desperation in the way his lips moved. I locked my arms around his neck, and, to my suddenly overheated skin, his body felt colder than ever. I trembled, but it was not from the chill.
He didn’t stop kissing me. I was the one who had to break away, gasping for air. Even then his lips did not leave my skin, they just moved to my throat. The thrill of victory was a strange high; it made me feel powerful. Brave. My hands weren’t unsteady now; I got through with the buttons on his shirt this time easily, and my fingers traced the perfect planes of his icy chest. He was too beautiful. What was the word he’d used just now? Unbearable — that was it. His beauty was too much to bear. . . .
I pulled his mouth back to mine, and he seemed just as eager as I was. One of his hands still cupped my face, his other arm was tight around my waist, straining me closer to him. It made it slightly more difficult as I tried to reach the front of my shirt, but not impossible.
Cold iron fetters locked around my wrists, and pulled my hands above my head, which was suddenly on a pillow.
His lips were at my ear again. “Bella,” he murmured, his voice warm and velvet. “Would you please stop trying to take your clothes off?”
“Do you want to do that part?” I asked, confused.
“Not tonight,” he answered softly. His lips were slower now against my cheek and jaw, all the urgency gone.
“Edward, don’t —,” I started to argue.
“I’m not saying no,” he reassured me. “I’m just saying not tonight.”
I thought about that while my breathing slowed.
“Give me one good reason why tonight is not as good as any other night.” I was still breathless; it made the frustration in my voice less impressive.
“I wasn’t born yesterday.” He chuckled in my ear. “Out of the two of us, which do you think is more unwilling to give the other what they want? You just promised to marry me before you do any changing, but if I give in tonight, what guarantee do I have that you won’t go running off to Carlisle in the morning? I am — clearly — much less reluctant to give you what you want. Therefore . . . you first.”
I exhaled with a loud huff. “I have to marry you first?” I asked in disbelief.
“That’s the deal — take it or leave it. Compromise, remember?”
His arms wrapped around me, and he began kissing me in a way that should be illegal. Too persuasive — it was duress, coercion. I tried to keep a clear head . . . and failed quickly and absolutely.
“I think that’s a really bad idea,” I gasped when he let me breathe.
“I’m not surprised you feel that way.” He smirked. “You have a one-track mind.”
“How did this happen?” I grumbled. “I thought I was holding my own tonight — for once — and now, all of a sudden —”
“You’re engaged,” he finished.
“Ew! Please don’t say that out loud.”
“Are you going back on your word?” he demanded. He pulled away to read my face. His expression was entertained. He was having fun.
I glared at him, trying to ignore the way his smile made my heart react.
“Are you?” he pressed.
“Ugh!” I groaned. “No. I’m not. Are you happy now?”
His smile was blinding. “Exceptionally.”
I groaned again.
“Aren’t you happy at all?”
He kissed me again before I could answer. Another too-persuasive kiss.
“A little bit,” I admitted when I could speak. “But not about getting married.”
He kissed me another time. “Do you get the feeling that everything is backward?” he laughed in my ear. “Traditionally, shouldn’t you be arguing