A/N Thanks to NelsonsMandela, Breath of Twilight, and Detochkina
This is the bit o' fluff I told regular readers of Canzone about- it was first posted on Breath of Twilight's Halloween countdown.
I've got a chapter of Canzone and one outtake half-written at this point. Sorry I'm so damn slow, guys. I had hoped to have both out today, but a raging case of pinkeye and some time-consuming work and rehearsal stuff conspired against us. I offer you a little Halloween fluffernutter to tide you over.
Bella Hears a Who?
"Come on, Bella," he said when he saw her sitting on her stoop. "You're really more afraid to go into your own house than sit out here at midnight, wearing that, in this neighborhood?"
"Wearing what?" she asked, eyes narrowed.
"I mean, aren't you cold?" He backpedaled, taking off his jacket. "It's almost November, and you're wearing next to nothing, for crying out loud."
She ignored him, and the jacket he offered her. She was pissed.
Okay, so maybe he shouldn't have mentioned what she was wearing—that was textbook inappropriate, but it had shocked him. She looked amazing, wearing a little black dress he had never seen before, showing more yummy, creamy Bella-skin than he had seen before. He liked that, but he hated what it most likely meant.
Had she been on a date? With whom? That meant someone, someone with huge balls, had asked her out, and somehow, she had said yes. On the plus side, obviously it hadn't gone well. Most likely the huge balls were damaged now. If it had gone well, she obviously wouldn't have called him.
It galled him to know that someone else had succeeded where he hadn't even figured out how to try.
If we didn't work together I would have asked already, he rationalized. While this was true, particularly considering the kind of work they did, her general attitude was the real problem. The object of his affection was not the easiest person to read, and she was even harder to flatter, wheedle or charm. And this left him pretty much with no moves, except to watch, and wait for the green light.
"And what do you mean, this neighborhood?" she scoffed. "If I recall correctly, you don't live that far away. Don't pretend that your ten-minute walk transported you into the slums, Cullen."
It had only taken him five, since he walked much faster when he wasn't keeping pace with her, but she didn't need to know that he'd spent time on his appearance for her sake. The discovery of her address was new to him, and he wanted to relish it. He was pretty sure that nobody in the office had ever seen her place before. The knowledge that her fortress of solitude was a mere five blocks from his own apartment was incredibly encouraging.
Isabella Swan was notoriously private, and while Edward enjoyed certain privileges of their growing friendship, the inside of her home had been a mystery.
He reached out a hand and pulled her to her feet, smiling at her scowl. His eyebrows shot up when he noticed the stun gun in her other hand. He stepped back, hands up in surrender that was only partly in jest.
"I told you, I heard a noise," she explained, embarrassed. "Look, I'm a cop's daughter, okay? My father taught me to respect my intuition."
He probably would have been content with one of her rare phone calls, but getting her address, an invitation inside (even if it was just to make sure there weren't any intruders), and information about her personal life was far more than he expected on a weeknight. He felt a little giddy, and pushed his luck.
"You know I'm going to mock you for this when there's nothing inside."
She glared at him, and he laughed, delighted. She rolled her eyes and turned, putting the key in the lock with a little more force than she meant to, like she was stabbing the door.
"Mocking I can live with," she said, hesitating to actually open the door now that it was unlocked. "I knew you were awake, and Newton is both incompetent and way too handsy."
Message received. An invitation in was not an invitation…in.
His expression grew serious as he opened the door for her. She was afraid, and had called him. He felt his heart swell with masculine pride, just as he found himself worrying about what could possibly scare a fearless creature like her.
He'd seen her do a lot of things that would terrify most people: speaking in front of a huge crowd at a training seminar, bungee jumping for team-building exercises. Hell, he had even seen her tell their former boss—Tyler, a notorious bully—to fuck off when he had gotten drunk and a little too verbally aggressive during their annual holiday party. Everyone else, Edward included, had been too afraid of getting fired to say anything, even though they all worked in corporate training and were supposedly experts in handling any kind of interpersonal work conflicts.
Although Bella's method was more than a little off script, it was just exactly the right thing to say to shock Mr. Crowley into realizing that he had stepped way over the line.
Edward was obsessed over it. For two years he had worked with Isabella Swan, and for two years he had tried to figure out how to ask her out without crossing that line or ruining his chances. Their company's fraternization policy (one they both knew by heart) allowed for employees dating as long as they were either coworkers on equal footing or worked in different departments. They both knew exactly what constituted sexual harassment—hell, they often taught the seminar together. Truth be told, Edward wasn't gutless. If they hadn't enacted his rejection over and over in their sexual harassment role-play training module, or if he could read her signals better, he probably would have done it months ago.
He was possibly the only man in existence who feared getting a promotion. If either one of them got promoted, his slim chance of dating the woman of his dreams would disappear. For what seemed like the millionth time in the space of the fifteen minutes since she called, he wondered if he'd get the green light tonight, or if he should just be happy to make some progress.
"So this noise, what did it sound like again?" he asked, cautiously entering the townhouse.
Bella quickly followed, her pale hand fluttering in his peripheral vision as she quickly flipped on all the lights she could. She wasn't usually a flutterer, but then again, everything about tonight was unusual so far.
Hallway, living room, staircase, and second-floor landing, all illuminated. The shadows seemed a little spooky. He had fantasized about taking down an intruder for her, like some knight slaying a dragon. Afterward, she would obviously melt in his manly arms. He laughed quietly to himself as he thought of her insinuating that he was competent. He felt anything but.
Two years was a long time for a reasonably attractive man to take to work up the courage to ask out the woman he likes. However, it's not like he didn't have obstacles. Like her ex-boyfriend. She had been dating a complete Neanderthal, a knuckle-dragger named Jake, when she and Edward first started working together, and it had taken her far too long to dump him. For six months he had to endure seeing that asshole when he'd drop by unexpectedly for lunch, or at company parties, formal and informal.
Jake had driven him completely insane, but he had the sense that the feeling was mutual. Edward was used to men not trusting him with their girlfriends, and Jake had caught him staring at Isabella early on. She had been completely oblivious to the blatant longing in his gaze, but Jake was observant, and was obviously threatened. Edward suspected that it was in part this threat that had made his rival stupidly propose when she obviously wasn't ready for it.
She had called him immediately after the proposal and resulting breakup, and he had taken her out for a consoling beverage. He had mixed feelings on the matter. On one hand, he was happy that she had turned to him for comfort and worried that it meant he was condemned to the friend zone. He decided, after her second shot of whisky as she cried on his shoulder, that he didn't care. Bella was sobbing about how guilty she felt and how much she had hurt her childhood sweetheart, but she knew she couldn't marry him. Edward in turn felt a little guilty for being so happy when she was so upset, but as he sweetly rubbed her shoulders and kept the drinks coming, all he could think about was how right she felt in his arms. He wondered if she felt it too, but he knew it was too soon to ask.
Even though it had killed him to do it in more ways than one, he had been a complete gentleman that night, especially since she had seemed to want to kiss him. She had tilted her face toward his, played with the buttons of his shirt, and had given him some incredibly sexy stares that had the angel on one shoulder in full-out combat with the devil on the other. In the end, the angel had won. She was too drunk and too vulnerable, and he had deposited her in his own bed, fully dressed, after making her swallow some water and aspirin. He had slept on his own couch, also fully dressed.
He had, of course, dreamt of her.
The next morning she had been embarrassed, but he had assured her that she had done nothing inappropriate. She'd been grateful, and told him how wonderful it was that she could trust him. Since then he had been biding his time, but every time he thought he had a chance, something had stopped him.
The main problem was, he knew that he could ask her out exactly once, and if she shot him down, he'd never get to ask again without it constituting harassment. And Edward had seen Bella shoot plenty of guys down, many of them coworkers. It was a scene he never wanted to star in. Usually it would happen at one of their informal office get-togethers after work at some restaurant or bar. Someone would hit on Bella and she'd either ignore him (usually Mike, about whom Bella had deemed too harmless and clueless to make an actual complaint) or shoot the poor bastard down with an ice-cold glare and blunt refusal.
Every time some asshole would hit on her, she'd confide in Edward. She'd rail against men, wondering why they couldn't all be more like him, who never tried anything with her.
It wasn't exactly encouraging. It was always one step forward, one step back with Isabella. The more she trusted him, the more she'd confide in him, and every time he came close to throwing caution to the wind, some bag of dicks would hit on her, sometimes even right in front of Edward. And she'd shoot them all down. Mercilessly, and usually with a sarcastic eye-roll in his direction after the fact. He'd laugh with her, but it secretly terrified him. He really didn't want her rolling her eyes at someone else about his pathetic attempts to woo her if he tried and failed. She always seemed just out of reach.
But now, he was a little bit closer. He was in her house. By her invitation.
Edward hungrily took in the details of her living space, slightly intimidated by the sheer number of books overwhelming nearly every available space, and some that probably shouldn't be available. It was no shock that her place was cluttered. The woman was incapable of keeping anything remotely organized.
Bella startled him, making this half-moaning, half sobbing sound.
"You okay?" he asked, staring at her in confusion. Her expression was calm, expectant, and didn't match the anguish of her voice. "I mean, I'd be upset too if I saw that marauders had come and trashed my place like this."
"Shut it, neat freak. That was the sound I heard," she explained, smiling minutely. "You asked, remember? That's the sound."
As usual, Edward had been so wrapped up in his tortured thoughts that he had all but forgotten his question.
"Huh," he said, turning around, and shivered when he heard the sound again. "Okay, you don't have to keep doing it."
He felt her pointy fingertips digging into his upper arm and he unthinkingly flexed his bicep.
"That wasn't you?" she said, her face betraying overwhelming anxiety when he shook his head. "It sounded like it was coming from right here!"
They both shivered, and Edward put his arm around her protectively. He thrilled to the way she snuggled in to his embrace. Emboldened, he kissed her forehead, his eyes scanning the second-floor landing. He noticed a curtain fluttering, indicating an open window—maybe a squirrel or more likely a bird, given the noise. He was encouraged by a small movement in the shadows. Nothing truly scary ... nothing human, certainly.
"I may have an idea of what it is," he whispered. "Wait here."
"No way," she said, clinging to him like a bur.
"Don't make fun of me!"
She seemed really put out, so he decided to placate her a little. And maybe probe for a reaction? He leaned down, close enough to where his nose tickled the top of her ear, where he knew most women were incredibly sensitive. It was a bit bold, but he figured it was a good litmus test.
"Believe it or not, I'm not making fun, Bella," he murmured, using what a former girlfriend had called his 'sex voice.' He watched as her skin flushed pink and she shivered. "You're the toughest woman I know. I'd be lying if I said this isn't an ego boost for me."
She glared at him, and once again, he didn't know what to make of her. The blush was good, the shiver better, but now she just seemed annoyed, even if she wasn't letting go of his arm. He was going to get a cramp in his arm from flexing that hard, but it would be worth it. He sighed, and slowly climbed the staircase, her steps shadowing his. When they got to the top step, things were not as he expected them to be.
"That's weird," he said. "I thought for sure the window was open."
"No way," she said vehemently. "I always lock up, very thoroughly. Besides, those windows are nailed shut. If the window had been open I would have just called the police."
They checked every room, every corner, and everywhere they looked, there was nothing out of the ordinary, at least according to Bella. In Edward's eyes, everything about the place was extraordinary, particularly the alluring lacy things drying on a little wooden rack in her bathroom. She had blushed and snatched them away, but not fast enough to keep him from imagining her wearing them. He leaned against the doorframe, trying to control his reaction.
"Sorry," she whispered, cheeks flaming. "I didn't mean to sexually harass you."
"Not possible," he mumbled, unable to keep the interest out of his tone.
She looked at him curiously as she tucked her undergarments into a drawer. He wanted to kick himself. God, could he sound any sleazier?
Don't be a Newton, he told himself, trying to keep his expression neutral.
The second floor completely cleared, they checked the first floor, and then the basement, every light in the place blazing. It was while they were down there they heard the noise again, the same sorrowful sound they had heard in the foyer.
It sounded faint this time, but still somehow close by. She started and cursed under her breath.
"What was that?" he asked, bending down again, but not sexing up her ear this time. He still couldn't decide if she had liked it or not before.
"I said, I don't fucking believe in ghosts," she said angrily.
"Are you sure?" he teased, fairly certain that he knew what the problem was, and it was far from supernatural. He wanted to reassure her, but if he did, this would end much more quickly than he wanted. "I mean, I don't either, but it sounds like one might believe in us."
"Shit. Shit. Shit." She sounded so upset that he figured he should put her out of her misery.
"If it makes you feel better, you can stay at my place tonight. If you want." Okay, so the devil on his shoulder won that round.
"Really?" she asked, sounding hopeful.
"Of course," he said, but his conscience wouldn't let him end there. "It's probably just a bird in your air system, anyway. We can call someone to look at it tomorrow."
Just as he had feared, her hand left his arm almost immediately as soon as he had given her a plausible scenario. Edward kicked himself mentally.
"Of course, you're right," she laughed shakily. "You must think I'm an idiot. I'm so sorry for dragging you over here."
"I don't blame you one bit," he offered, disappointed. "The noise is spooky. But yeah, you can stay at my place if you want."
"I kind of want to stay here," she said softly.
Damn. His night was not tonight. Still, progress, he guessed.
"Up to you," he said, kissing her forehead again.
When they got upstairs, they paused in the foyer. He thought about asking her if she was sure, but decided against it. She apologized again, and he ignored it, angry with himself. He paused, his hand on the front door.
"Edward?" she asked, her voice small and fearful. It didn't sound like her.
He turned, and glanced at her questioningly.
"What's wrong?" She looked incredibly uncomfortable. "Hey, it's just me. You can tell me anything. You know that."
"You'll think I'm ridiculous," she said, looking mortified.
"Hey, I was just teasing before," he said rubbing her arm. He couldn't keep himself from touching her sometimes. "I didn't mean to make you feel foolish."
"I know that. I just—"
He waited, his hand on her arm, staring at her mouth while she stared at the floor. Was this the right moment? Should he try? The silence grew charged between them.
"Could you stay with me tonight?" she asked, after what seemed like seven years. "I'd just feel a little better, you know, because of the noise." Her voice picked up strength as she went on.
"Only if you tell me that I'm manly and intimidating to ghosts and marauders alike," he teased, not sure what to do with this vulnerable side to her.
"There is no way I'm saying that." She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "But I'll make you breakfast in the morning?"
"Okay," he relented. "But only because of the breakfast."
He looked dubiously at her couch, which was probably long enough for her to nap on, but there was no way he could stretch out on it.
"Come on, we can share the bed," she said softly, blushing again. But what did it mean? Surely she didn't mean...
"Bed?" he gulped.
"That couch is really uncomfortable, and it would kind of defeat the purpose if we were a whole floor apart."
He stared at her, determined that yes, she was sending him the signal. Which meant something. He just wasn't sure what.
"I trust you," she added, as he was just about to make his move.
She trusted him. Great. Friend-zone language, again. He inwardly groaned in defeat, but managed to keep it under wraps.
"I'm just going to do this in the bathroom," Bella mumbled, taking something pink out of a drawer. "Sorry, I don't have anything in your size, but you can get as comfortable as you want and get under the covers while I change."
Like he would wear anything Jake left behind. Edward was glad she didn't have his old clothes hanging around. He wanted to pretend that nobody had ever been here before him. He took off his work shirt and pants, glad to have worn clean boxers and an undershirt. The boxers might be problematic in the morning, depending on how much they moved in their sleep. He checked her alarm clock and set the alarm on his cell for 30 minutes before that. Who knows what she would think if he assaulted her with his morning wood in his sleep. Maybe he should wrap himself up in a blanket, just to be on the safe side.
He had just finished doing just that when she came out of the bathroom, looking flustered and cute in her sleep shorts and tank. She frowned at his cocoon and slipped into bed, leaving him to wonder if he had done something wrong. He was getting ready to ask when she turned off the light.
"Edward?" she asked, her voice startlingly close to his ear.
"Yeah?" He tilted his face toward hers, wondering how much movement it would take for him to kiss her.
He heard a slight rustle—the friction of her head on the pillow, and his heart thudded in his chest loudly. Was she pulling away, or closer?
"What did you mean," she whispered, "when you said it wouldn't be possible?"
Shit. Definitely closer. She was closer. He could feel her breath on his lips, the magnetic pull of her skin. His eyes were adjusting to the dark, and he could just make out the curve of her cheek.
"Do you mean when you said," he said, choosing his words carefully, "that you didn't mean to harass me?" Sexually, he added mentally.
He could definitely feel heat coming off her skin. He was close enough for that.
"Mmmhmm," she murmured.
Holy crap. Was she touching his hair?
"Bella?" he asked, moving his head slightly. He couldn't help it. The pull was too strong. "Whatever you want it to mean."
Seconds went by, the silence filling his ears with deafening intensity.
Whatever else she was going to say was muffled by his mouth on hers, or hers on his; he couldn't really tell and didn't really care. It started slowly, just soundless words and breath exchanged as his lips read hers, finally. And yes, she was touching his hair, his head, pulling his face closer, stroking his hair in frantic little swirls. She was molesting his scalp, and he fucking loved it.
"Bella," he groaned, giving in to two years of frustrated wanting her like this. He kicked the blanket loose, careful to avoid kicking her in his haste, and followed his need, until he was on top of her, devouring her. "Finally."
The cat was out of the bag with no hope of getting back in. He kissed her neck, her ears. It took him a second to realize that something was off. She was barely touching him now.
"Please say something," he begged, his tone far less polite than his words.
"Edward?" she said, her voice hesitant, apologetic.
Shit. No. Fuck. No. Shit.
But her hands were still in his hair, and he could swear she had been kissing him back.
"I'm so confused," he confessed, trying to will himself to pull away from her warmth. He couldn't, not just yet. "I swear, I thought, this time—I can never read you, Bella. How bad did I just fuck up here?"
"What? No," she laughed nervously. "I've wanted this, believe me."
"Then what? You don't like my technique? Too much tongue? Not enough tongue? Just give me a percentage increase or decrease for optimal tongue usage, and I swear I'll improve."
"Your tongue is perfect," she groaned. "You're perfect, and your kissing is even better than I've dreamed."
"Okay?" His cock pulsed a little, eager for more action, but his mind struggled with the ever-conflicting signals she put out.
"I just feel like such an idiot," she said, her tone mortified.
"What? Why? I would never think that about you." It really made no sense, like anything else tonight.
"You know what? Never mind. Let's just keep going."
Yeeeeessssss. He leaned in to recapture her lips when a thought suddenly occurred to him, and it all made sense. Only one thing could explain her appearance, and why she wouldn't have let her date check out the noise, why she didn't seem nearly as afraid as she seemed embarrassed. Why they were making out now, finally.
No way. No fucking way.
"Bella?" he asked, pulling away slightly as she stretched her neck to reach his mouth. "Were you really worried about the noise?"
By that moment, he could see well enough to be able to tell that her eyes widened, and his wide mouth spread into a huge grin.
"Oh my God." He drew out the words, as if he was deliciously scandalized.
"You used feminine wiles on me," he accused playfully. "Oh, Edward, you big strong manly man, I'm so scared!"
"Shut up," she said, but her tone said it all. He could feel her skin grow even hotter under his lips.
"This is so awesome. Did you even have a date tonight?" he prodded, nudging her with his hips. And his… "Or was that sexy black dress for my benefit?"
She didn't struggle against him. On the contrary, she hooked one ankle around one of his calves while she poked his ribs with fingers, making him laugh.
"You are such an egomaniac," she fumed, exasperated. "You heard that noise yourself!"
He buried his nose in her hair, luxuriating in her scent. He wondered how much of it was girlie goop and how much was pure Bella. He'd definitely get to find out now.
"If you wore that dress for me and not some other asshole, I'll be the happiest man in the city tonight."
She stopped poking him and snorted with laughter as he tickled and bit her shoulder lightly.
"You just called yourself an asshole, you know that, right?"
"You were making the noise the whole time, weren't you? Come on, admit it. Or what, maybe you made a recording and then hid it in a vent? Which was it?"
"No, you jerk! It was real."
"You could have just asked, you know. You didn't have to go to all this trouble for little old me."
"If you called me over to seduce me with your sexy laundry, it totally worked. The scary noise was kind of overkill."
"I really like you better when your tongue is in my mouth."
"Okay, but I'm not sleeping with you tonight," he warned. "I may have fallen for your trickery, but you're not getting all the goods at once … no matter what you—ooh, watch the hands, Miss Swan."
Her hand slid over his backside as he spoke, giving him a little squeeze through the soft cotton of his boxers before stilling.
"I'm not trying—ugh, you are so obnoxious."
"I only go to third base on the first date," he added, interrupting himself to kiss her again. "I'm not just a little toy you can trick in to bed and then cast aside in the morning, you know."
"Third base?" she scoffed. "You're dreaming if you think you're getting anywhere past second."
Her words were nullified by the way she ground her hips into his, settling his erection right against the hot seam of her silky sleep-shorts. He was going to have to try very hard not to blow his load right away. Best to keep teasing her then. No matter how good she felt.
"If you like me better when my tongue is in your mouth you're going to looove me when it's on your—" She clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Seriously, less talking."
Edward didn't argue when she replaced her hand with her mouth, when her soft warm lips moved against his, and her minty tongue gloriously entered his mouth. He certainly didn't argue when she let his hands slip under her top (she had said second base), when she shivered responsively beneath his touch and arched her back. She was incredibly responsive to him, and her responses were driving him crazy. He became increasingly aware that there were only two thin pieces of fabric between them. It took all his self-control to keep from ripping her shorts off and plunging right in. The way she was writhing, he had no doubt that she'd let him.
She moaned loudly, and he felt that control begin to evaporate, but something in the back of his mind kept screaming at him. What happens tomorrow? He knew Bella, and he knew himself. Even if they both wanted more, she'd feel vulnerable, and her considerable defenses would go right back up, then he'd feel awkward and make too many jokes and worry about pressing too hard. Maybe he would press too hard, which would just make her more stubborn. She'd retract into her shell like a turtle, and start avoiding him.
He'd start stalking her, and she'd move, and put out a restraining order. He'd lose his job and probably end up in jail, all because he couldn't keep it in his pants.
He stopped, and pulled away.
"Bella?" he asked, trying to focus on what he needed to say.
"Guh," she protested, her eyes wild with lust.
She made another noise that reminded him of woodland creatures being tortured, or at least teased cruelly, and it made him really, really really doubt his sanity for what he was about to do. He turned on the lamp next to the bed, and the sight of her almost made him change his mind.
In a panic, he started wrapping his blanket around himself again.
"Bad, you…bad," she babbled, pointing at his actions.
"I know," he agreed, flopping next to her. "At least 49% of me is in total agreement with you. But it's going pretty fast, and I don't want this to be a one-time deal."
She was quiet, too quiet, and he propped himself up on one elbow when he was finally ready to face her. She was covering her face with her hands.
"Ugh, this, Bella," he said, kissing her fingers. "This is what I'm hoping to avoid. I don't want to make love to you—"
"That's painfully obvious."
He pried her hands away from her face, and his heart nearly broke at the vulnerability in her beautiful brown eyes.
"Of course I want to make love to you. But come on, you know us," he argued. "I don't want to make love to you tonight and then die inside when you shut me out tomorrow."
"I'm not going to shut you out tomorrow." She looked a little nervous. "I'm not! I mean, I probably won't. I mean, we'll be at work. Gah, work."
"See? And we both know I'd be nervous and say something stupid to try to get a reaction from you."
"No you…yeah, you would, wouldn't you?"
"See where I'm going with this?" He looked at her sternly. "Call me old-fashioned, but I don't want you to have to pay the court fees for the restraining order when I start stalking you. Some things are just better for the man to pay."
She laughed, as he hoped she would. The tension was gone, just like that. He took her hand, and she squeezed it.
"What can I do to convince you that I'm not going to shut you out?" she asked softly.
"You can admit you've been making that noise all along," he grinned.
"Be serious." She punched his arm.
"Ow," he complained. "Maybe I should get the restraining order. I must be nuts to want to date such a violent woman."
"You want to date me?" she asked, smiling shyly.
"Duh, that's what I'm telling you. I've wanted to ask you out since you first turned down Newton."
"That was my first day of work!" she said, clearly surprised. "You never let on."
"I was waiting for you to give me a sign."
"You've got to be kidding me. I thought everybody knew I liked you. I've been obvious."
"You really haven't. I was paying close attention."
"Jake knew," she confessed softly. "That's why he broke up with me."
Edward frowned. "You said he asked you to marry him."
"He did, and when I told him I needed to think about it, he accused me of having an affair with you. He said…"
Edward kissed her softly when she looked like she didn't want to go on. She opened her eyes and smiled, embarrassed.
"What did he say?" he prodded, skimming his fingers along the skin of her shoulders.
"He said I said your name in my sleep."
His fingers stopped moving, and he nearly drowned in her eyes. Without meaning to, he was kissing her again, and got lost in that, too.
That noise happened again, and it sounded like it was coming from inside the walls. She bolted upright, and he laughed at her. He couldn't help it.
"You can stop pretending to be afraid," he said as she hit him with a pillow. "You're going to get so sick of me."
"You're going to be so sorry when whatever animal in my air system attacks you."
"You're the one attacking me," he said, pinning her arms above her head and burying his face in her neck. He licked her from shoulder to ear. "Besides, I doubt your tape recorder's going to be able to do any damage."
She shivered, and struggled.
"Let go. I need my arms to strangle you."
"Now that hardly makes me want to do your bidding."
"Just let go."
"Are you going to behave?"
"It's a good thing I'm totally comfortable like this then."
"Fine, just let go. God, are you going to manhandle me like this all the time?"
"I hope so. I also hope you like spooning," he said, manhandling her into a cuddle position. "We're going to do it a lot."
"I hope it's a real ghost and he haunts your ass."
"I'll build him a shrine for getting us together if it is," he countered, kissing her neck. "Now go to sleep. I want to hear you say my name when you're dreaming."
"That'll be in your dreams, Edward."
"It always is, Bella."
She turned her face toward his kiss, and stopped arguing.