A/N: This is really kind of a practice run ONE SHOT. I've been out of writing the smut for about a year now (holy crap, has it been that long?) And I needed something to get the juices flowing again. ....Well. I'm back!!

A/N-2: I do not own ANY of Mrs. Meyer's characters. I do however own this nameless girl. :)

-Dirty Dishes-

A one-shot by: Nesrine

Steam rose from the sink, licking her arms, making tiny droplets of condensation form on the fine hairs. She grabbed another glass from the counter to the left and plunged it under water. Searing heat scalded her pink fingers, leaving them raw and pruned. She couldn't feel the tips anymore.

The glass squeaked under her ministrations,a swirling washcloth moving in and out, around the rim, then to be placed it in the top rack of the open dishwasher. It was almost full. Only a few more glasses to go before she'd move on to the pans.

She used an elbow to nudge the faucet to a colder setting and reached for another dish. A stream of water caught her arm, but the pain didn't come until it was too late. She drew back with a sharp hiss.

"Shit!" she cursed aloud and grabbed a towel from the counter, putting pressure on the burned place.

"Oh my," a voice from the hallway answered. She startled and backed into the counter, knocking a dirty knife off and dodging it by inches as it clattered to the floor.

"SHIT!" she said again.

"Jesus, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Jake, you can't just sneak up on me like that!" she scolded him. Her eyes reached his and were lost to the licorice pools.

He ran a hand through his messy black hair, smoothing it down in a subconscious effort to shield his gaze. He didn't miss how the steam of the dishwater gave her a slight glow – her skin, iridescent in the sun light, and her chocolate hair falling in waves, disappearing behind her shoulders and ending at the hollow of her back. He could imagine just how the ends curled slightly upward, inviting his fingers to wrap up in the soft bounds.

"I really didn't mean to scare you," he said in contention. Jacob brushed his knuckles over her cheek before tucking a stray curl neatly behind her ear. He skin was warm. Soft.

"It's okay," she whispered. Her heart was beating at an irregular pace, matching the shallow breaths she inhaled. She held her forearm just beneath the bend of her elbow, where the water had burned it, as she tilted her chin upward, nuzzling into Jacob's hand.

It was hot and rough against her cheek, but familiar. The faint smell of grass was on his copper skin, traces of it making their way into her senses. She inhaled deeper then, fighting the urge to lick his palm.

"Do you need help cleaning up?" he asked, breaking the involuntary spell he'd cast. She shook her head and drew back.

"I'm about finished. But…I guess you could help me dry." Her statement was followed by the stiff arch of one eyebrow. "You don't have to," she finished when Jacob crossed a pair of thick arms across his chest.

His broad chest.

His very broad, very lickable chest.

She sighed inwardly. Did he have any idea how much he affected her, just with his presence? Not to mention his near constant lack of clothing. What could he possibly think that walking around wearing nothing but a tight fitting pair of cut off gray sweats was going to get him, other than the attention of the opposite sex?

"How's your arm?" he asked, gently pulling her hand away. "Ouch…red."

"Yeah," she winced, pointedly ignoring the way his long fingers were holding her elbow steady as he examined the reddened area on her skin.

"We should put some ice on it," he said. He walked her to the refrigerator, guiding her, elbow in hand. He yanked the freezer open with ease and pulled out a handful of ice from the bucket. "Give me your towel."

She handed it to him, unaware that she was still holding it. He put the ice in it and tied each corner together, forming a makeshift cold-pack.

"Thanks," she smiled. He held the pack to her arm, and pulled her over to the island in the middle of the small kitchen.

"Hold that there," he said, and hoisted her by the waist onto the table-top. Her thighs connected to the wood with a slap. Jacob hadn't realized before that she was wearing shorts. His eyes lingered on the length of her legs, tanned and smooth. He followed the line up to the bottom hem, noting how it wrinkled as it sank into the dip between her legs.

He wanted to trace the rises and falls of the wrinkles, but chose otherwise. She probably wouldn't be too keen on me fondling her after I scared her half to death, he thought. God I want to…

"What are you thinking?" she finally spoke up, surprising him. He cleared his throat and looked up, hoping the blush he felt was invisible beneath his russet complexion.

"No-ahem-nothing," his voice cracked. Another clearing of the throat.

She stared at him, captivated by his sudden shyness. Her body was acutely aware of his hands still resting on her hips. She didn't move for fear or sadness that he would remove them.

"Doesn't look like nothing," she said. Her eyes darted to his lips and back to his eyes. It was so fast he barely noticed, but he noticed it none-the-less. "Will you tell me?"

He grumbled low in his throat, letting it build until it was almost a moan, sending vibrations through his chest.

She adjusted her hold on the ice-pack, and shifted her weight forward. The slight change in position triggered a response in Jacob. He felt his abdomen tighten, reach out for what was closest to it. He moved forward, shielding his compromised state with the edge of the counter.

Her eyes widened, not expecting such close quarters. "Will you?" she repeated, a hushed tone to her voice.

"You're tempting me," he whispered, just as husky, and his heated breath blew over her face and neck, making her skin tighten in anticipation. Jacob's mind suddenly halted when she scooted closer to the edge. Her feet dangled next to his legs and he could almost feel the creamy smoothness of them on his calves.

She leaned up, lightly blowing the air past her lips, repeating an inner breathing mantra to keep from passing out. Jacob's eyes closed slowly, waiting, wishing.

Until finally...

"Jake! There's someone here to see you," Quil shouted.

The two lovebirds, star-crossed and dizzy, jumped apart as the intruder rounded the kitchen entrance.

"Can't you knock?" Jacob asked.

"I can't go to the kitchen without knocking now?"

Jacob thought about that for a moment and turned back full force. "No, Quil. Not if I'm doing the dishes. I might...drop a knife on my foot! And look at what happened to her hand! Get out of here you idiot!"

The solid sound of footsteps rang in the moist air as Quil shuffled quickly for the door.

"Got rid of him," she sighed.

"For a while, anyway. I just hope he doesn't get wise to the fact that you already had an icepack on."

"Well good riddance if he doesn't."

"And good riddance if he—mff!" Jacob's words were cut short. His eyes were open wide for less than a second before he melted in a pair of soft, inviting lips. Every inch of her felt exactly the way he imagined it would. From the day that he first met her, all he could stand to think about was how and when and where that kiss would take place. Now he had it, right in front of him. Under his very lips.

Their hearts beat wildly together, pushing into their throats.

She felt a slick part of him glide over her skin, testing his limitations. There weren't any. Her lips parted, inviting his tongue to snake into her mouth, teasing each taste bud with it's gentle movements. His breath was even richer inside. Swallowing her mind and body in its warmth.

The counter's edge felt oddly cool as Jacob pressed his pelvis against it. He wished he'd been pressing it somewhere much warmer, but he took anything he could get at that point. The dizzy feeling began to creep back into each of them, knocking his knees loose, and sending her head into a spin. She bit down on his lip and sucked on it as he breathed in. It snapped back with a little pop and she giggled, breaking their seal. There was a long pause before either of them could speak. It was awkward, yet somehow enjoyable.

"Well," he huffed. "That was...new."

She blushed, "I was tired of waiting on you to make the first move."

"What do you mean? I made the first move when I walked into the kitchen."

She grinned and pulled him in for another wet kiss before tossing her ice pack on the counter. "Didn't anyone teach you to knock first?"

A/N: Hope you liked it. :)