Twilight 4 - Breaking Dawn | Page 8

seat where my best friend should
be.

I was with Edward in my happy place.

2. LONG NIGHT

“I miss you already.”

“I don’t need to leave. I can stay. . . .”

“Mmm.”

It was quiet for a long moment, just the thud of my heart hammering, the broken
rhythm of our ragged breathing, and the whisper of our lips moving in
synchronization.

Sometimes it was so easy to forget that I was kissing a vampire. Not because he
seemed ordinary or human—I could never for a second forget that I was holding
someone more angel than man in my arms—but because he made it seem like nothing
at all to have his lips against my lips, my face, my throat. He claimed he was
long past the temptation my blood used to be for him, that the idea of losing me
had cured him of any desire for it. But I knew the smell of my blood still
caused him pain—still burned his throat like he was inhaling flames.

I opened my eyes and found his open, too, staring at my face. It made no sense
when he looked at me that way. Like I was the prize rather than the outrageously
lucky winner.

Our gazes locked for a moment; his golden eyes were so deep that I imagined I
could see all the way into his soul. It seemed silly that this fact—the
existence of his soul—had ever been in question, even if he was a vampire. He
had the most beautiful soul, more beautiful than his brilliant mind or his
incomparable face or his glorious body.

He looked back at me as if he could see my soul, too, and as if he liked what he
saw.

He couldn’t see into my mind, though, the way he saw into everyone else’s. Who
knew why—some strange glitch in my brain that made it immune to all the
extraordinary and frightening things some immortals could do. (Only my mind was
immune; my body was still subject to vampires with abilities that worked in ways
other than Edward’s.) But I was seriously grateful to whatever malfunction it
was that kept my thoughts a secret. It was just too embarrassing to consider the
alternative.

I pulled his face to mine again.

“Definitely staying,” he murmured a moment later.

“No, no. It’s your bachelor party. You have to go.”

I said the words, but the fingers of my right hand locked into his bronze hair,
my left pressed tighter against the small of his back. His cool hands stroked my
face.

“Bachelor parties are designed for those who are sad to see the passing of their
single days. I couldn’t be more eager to have mine behind me. So there’s really
no point.”

“True.” I breathed against the winter-cold skin of his throat.

This was pretty close to my happy place. Charlie slept obliviously in his room,
which was almost as good as being alone. We were curled up on my small bed,
intertwined as much as it was possible, considering the thick afghan I was
swathed in like a cocoon. I hated the necessity of the blanket, but it sort of
ruined the romance when my teeth started chattering. Charlie would notice if I
turned the heat on in August. . . .

At least, if I had to be bundled up, Edward’s shirt was on the floor. I never
got over the shock of how perfect his body was—white, cool, and polished as
marble. I ran my hand down his stone chest now, tracing across the flat planes
of his stomach, just marveling. A light shudder rippled through him, and his
mouth found mine again. Carefully, I let the tip of my tongue press against his
glass-smooth lip, and he sighed. His sweet breath washed—cold and delicious—over
my face.

He started to pull away—that was his automatic response whenever he decided
things had gone too far, his reflex reaction whenever he most wanted to keep
going. Edward had spent most of his life rejecting any kind of physical
gratification. I knew it was terrifying to him trying to change those habits
now.

“Wait,” I said, gripping his shoulders and hugging myself close to him. I kicked
one leg free and wrapped it around his waist. “Practice makes perfect.”

He chuckled. “Well, we should be fairly close to perfection by this point, then,
shouldn’t we? Have you slept at all in the last month?”

“But this is the dress rehearsal,” I reminded him, “and we’ve only practiced
certain scenes. It’s no time for playing safe.”

I thought he would laugh, but he didn’t answer, and his body