“Why do you do this to me?”

It’s hard for him to remain serious when she’s like this, her brow pulled into a furious scowl, her eyes accusatory, and her whole body braced in the most ridiculous attempt to appear threatening.

He pretends to consider her words in all honesty, when the answer is already completely obvious; a dual enjoyment in watching her remarkably entertaining reaction, and the wish to make life as easy for her as possible.

“Edward, do you think I’m poor?”

She has put her fists on her hips. He loves the angles of her elbows to her waist, her curled hands, and above it all, the sound of a beating heart, pulsing with indignation.

“No, Bella, I don’t think you’re poor.”

“Do you think I’m neglected in any other way? Desperate for your help maybe?”

“Not consciously, no. But—”

“Do you think I’m needy?”

He considers this question more carefully than the others, wondering whether to refer to what she means, or answer to what could be meant by those words...she’d be furious if he did the latter…

She sees the expression in his eyes and makes the adorable sound of an angry kitten, then turns away from him and crosses her arms over her chest in a huff. It takes the full force of his willpower not to laugh aloud in delight.

Instead, he leans over to brush her hair out of the way, enjoying the feel of the dark silky locks draped over his fingers, and softly kisses her neck. She twitches a little, goose-bumps rising on her skin, but remains completely still. Her heartbeat doesn’t speed up for once. He frowns as he realizes this, and pauses in his admiration of her cream-colored skin.

“Angela is teaching me yoga.” She replies triumphantly to his unspoken query. He leans back a little and sees her lips curled in a most un-Bella-like smirk.

“And?” he asks carefully, trying to gage her thought process from her expression, but failing miserably.

She turns her face towards him, but doesn’t answer, analyzing the frustration and impatience in his face with vindictive amusement.

He raises an eyebrow at her.

Bella doesn’t usually play. She always yields in the end. After he’s taken time to persuade her in non-verbal ways…

“Breathing techniques,” she murmurs in an ironically breathless fashion thirty seconds later once he has thoroughly tasted her lips. “They keep your heart rate steady if you use them correctly.”

“Ah…”he murmurs against the crook of her neck. “Breathe for me, Bella.”

She breathes in, her chest rising. He hears her ribs expand as her lungs inflate, the air rushing in, her diaphragm moving down, and the drumming of her heart in rhythm to the rush of her newly oxygenated blood. The sound of life, her life, is intoxicating in the extreme. It’s surprisingly intimate, as if he’s found the key and reason to her existence, the source of this indescribable being, and he’s overjoyed at the fact that he is the one to find this key, the one allowed to possess it.

She jerks away suddenly and glares at him.

“Don’t distract me, Edward. I’m serious. I don’t care how much you love me and want to make my life easier and take care of me; I do not need you to pay our insurance, water, or gas bills. If you do, I’ll have my father arrest you.”

He’ll grant her this one victory, to please her for the moment, but she still feels like she’s lost the game when he, still chuckling, drives her truck out of the gas station.