Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or twilight.

This was fucking torture.

Not the kind of torture that came from his fantasy Bella lightly and seductively scratching her sharp nails down the naked flesh of his back. Not the mixture of pain and pleasure he felt every time she let him take her hand or he breathed in her sweet scent.

This—having her soft tiny body pressed up against his, molding to fit against his hard muscles and smooth, russet skin, and her soft pretty lips so close he could feel more than hear the quiet gasp that escaped, so close her hair tickled his chin, his fingers itching to be tangled in it—was the worst kind of torture, full of anticipation and angst, and oh god, he just wanted to kiss her so goddamn bad.

The air in the small space of the cab was thick and charged with a palpable, tangible energy. It was heated and stifling and suffocating, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. His muscles twitched—as well as other parts of him—in anticipation. All the blood in his brain had left, flowing south and engorging a part of him to the point of pure pain, leaving his mind in a confused, lust-filled haze.

Her small cold fingers, still numb from the icy water, slowly traveled up his trembling arms, which were wrapped tightly around her waist. Her sensual touch left a tingling trail of goose flesh the higher they went, until her icy fingers wrapped tightly around his bulging biceps—which he involuntary flexed—clutching and pulling herself impossibly closer. Her nails were digging into his skin, but he didn't care, just tightened his arms around her until he could feel her soft, full breast pressed hard against the rippling muscles of his shirtless chest.

She wasn't sure when she made this decision, and the assault of butterflies and tightening coil of heat deep inside her gut were proof that maybe she hadn't—her body, her heart, something deep inside her that was connected to him, that already belonged to him, had taken over.

He leaned in, closing the distance between them, and her eyes fluttered closed, her lips parted as her soft pink tongue darted out to lick her lower lip in anticipation of his kiss.

But instead of his lips finally meeting hers and ending all the waiting-this fucking torture, this angst–driven, maddening dance they'd been doing for months-his head fell to the crook of her neck. He inhaled deeply; her sweet perfume of vanilla and strawberries—from her favorite shampoo and body wash—mixed with the overpowering scent of her arousal, caused him to groan loudly as he placed a lingering, wet kiss against the skin of her neck, and a shiver to run down her spine.

She felt his lips curve up in a smug grin, and she cursed her body for responding to him so easily, for him being so in tune with her body that he sensed things before she did, for his heightened senses in general.

His lips didn't leave her skin as they ghosted oh-so-softly up the slope of her neck, leaving feather light kisses along her jaw and blazing a trail of heat up to her ear in their wake.

Any annoyance or feelings of being unsure quickly disappeared as she felt his warm breath caress her ear. His voice dropped impossibly lower to a husky whisper that caused the coil in her gut to tighten more and a warm gush of wetness to pool between her thighs.

"Bella, I—" His raspy voice was cut off by a guttural moan as he took in a deep breath, and the smell of her desire punched him in the gut. Fucking torture.

"Fuck, Bells," he moaned in a strained voice she'd never heard from him before. He pulled back, only slightly, just enough for her to see his eyes almost pitch black with lust.

He had to see her eyes before he kissed her, even though he was too far gone to turn back now. He wanted to know, to make sure this is really what she wanted. He didn't want to see a vacant, resigned look cloud her chocolate eyes, or that all too familiar sadness or fear. He didn't want for her to just be relenting to his persistent advances, although, he had to wonder, wasn't that what he wanted?

No, he wanted more. Not to just be her second choice, not to be the runner up or to win by default. He wanted her heart, wholly, completely.

She swallowed thickly under his penetrating gaze and knew he was probing her very soul for an answer. She silently prayed he'd find the answer he needed as her body hummed with want and desire and anticipation.

It seemed like an eternity that they sat there while her hands slowly moved up his shoulders until her slender arms draped around his neck, her fingers slipping through his shaggy black hair and gently tugging. He dropped his eyes from hers, releasing her, to his hand that traveled slowly and sensually up her rib cage. Even through the thin material of her shirt, she could feel his scorching heat burning her.

It was utterly delicious.

His hand traveled further up, pushing her long, wavy locks that hung over her shoulder behind her. Ghosting his long fingers along her neck and cupping the back of her head, his fingers tangled in the soft hair there. She arched into his touch. The curve of her spine bowing inward; his other hand was flat against the small of her back, and he pushed ever so slightly. Her small, perfectly round breast pushed firmer against him, and he almost lost it as he felt himself grow harder and twitch in the already-constricting denim of his jeans. He tilted her head down so that he could see her eyes, but they were closed.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice both tender and hard-a mixture she was unable to deny. Her heart was pounding in her chest, she could feel the blood in her ears, and her breathing hitched as he finally—finally—leaned in, and his warm, soft lips brushed oh-so-lightly against hers.

She let out an involuntary whimper, desperately craving more of him. She felt his triumphant smirk as he pressed his mouth a little firmer against hers. Their lips moved achingly slowly together, melding to one another with a fevered intensity.

Most first kisses were tender and gentle, sweet and innocent and unpresumptuous. This kiss may have started off that way, but maybe it was the familiarity they already had after months of a boundary pushing friendship, maybe it was all this dancing around it each other and the fevered pitch of all the sexual tension and nervous anticipation that caused them to have such reckless abandon once their lips finally met and turned this kiss so heated and hungry.

His tongue glided along her bottom lip, demanding entrance, which she obliged eagerly. His soft, warm, flat tongue plunged inside her depths, probing and exploring the warm wetness of her mouth. She moaned, only heightening his desire and need for her and loosening his shaky grip on control. Her hold on control was gone, her hormones raging as her head was swimming and her body singing, and she melted into him effortlessly.

His open hand against her back moved up and down her skin, and then slowly, hesitantly, because he was suddenly unsure of how much was too much and where the line was since he had just erased the last one she had drawn, moved around to her side, his thumb brushing along her ribs just a hair under her bra, and his other long fingers stretched and curved around her side.

But she didn't stop him. Hell, she didn't even notice and couldn't even form a coherent though. All her attention was focused on the amazing, heady feel of his mouth on hers, his lips moving with hers, his tongue tangling and dancing with hers in a complicated and seductive rhythm.

Jacob took that as a good sign. He was always breaking the rules and testing the limits, and so he let his hand move a little higher, until the pad of his thumb brushed over the swell of her breast, feeling her nipple harden through the thin, lacy material of her bra.

She arched into his touch, falling backwards until her back landed softly against the bench seat of her truck, and Jacob had to reposition his weight so he didn't crush her fragile frame. Their lips detached for the briefest of moments, causing Bella's pouty, swollen lip to protrude, and Jacob let out a throaty chuckle before nipping at the offending lip with his teeth. His lips captured hers again, hungrier and more greedy this time. Passion and heat invaded her senses, engulfing her, consuming her, lighting a fire inside her, and healing her old wounds as her heart swelled with love and desire, and her body felt like it would combust with the intensity of these feelings if he didn't touch her, if she couldn't release the flame.

Quicker than she ever thought possible, Jacob's nimble fingers deftly unclasped her bra, and his warm, large hand covered her breast, gently squeezing and eliciting another breathless moan from Bella.

"J-Jake," she breathed into the steamy cab-the windows were already fogged over-urging him to continue. Somewhere in the back of her mind, her mother's ramblings of advice about boys screamed at her. She knew they were approaching treacherous territory, a kiss that had more of destination than was a beginning and they had no protection… or did he? She shook her head quickly to dispel that thought and shoved weakly against his muscular chest. No, she shouldn't give herself away so easily.

But this was Jake. Her best friend. And, even though he'd never said it, she was pretty sure he was in love with her, and now she damn well knew she was in love with him too.

God, how had she not realized before now?

Whether it was love or lust or an intoxicating combination of both, it consumed her, and she gave in as her hands went slack against his chest, her body arching even more into his touch as his fingers twisted and pinched lightly at her hardened nipples.

Jacob's dick throbbed painfully in his jeans, and he inadvertently rubbed himself against her. Fuck, he thought. He wanted her—no needed her, so fucking bad. He had to rein it in quick, but it was so hard, in more ways than one. He didn't have the strength to pull away.

And she wasn't stopping him.

Suddenly, there was a loud, echoing rap at the window, and a blinding beam of light—that could only be Chief Swan's— shone through the cab, illuminating his russet skin, naked torso, and Bella's flushed face and suddenly fearful, wide brown eyes.

They were both frozen for half a second before scrambling awkwardly into seated positions. Bella quickly tried to pull down her shirt; the click of the front clasp of her bra—thankfully, it was even still on—was loud in the still space as she tried to smooth down her tousled hair.

Jacob tried to discreetly adjust himself, his face flaming in embarrassment as he caught Bella's eyes on his obvious and large—very large, she thought—hard on. When she gasped in surprise, his embarrassed expression turned into a seductive smirk, and he winked at her when her eyes shot back up. Smug didn't begin to cover it.

She didn't smile back, but she felt an unfamiliar ache throb painfully at the center of her thighs.

The opening of the door, the presence of Chief Swan looking red with anger and embarrassment at catching his daughter in such a compromising position, and the silver of his gun glinting in the moonlight quickly changed the atmosphere in the truck.

Jacob gulped nervously, his normal bravado and over confidence dispelled under the glare of Bella's over-protective police chief, gun-carrying father. Charlie's teeth were clenched, and his jaw flexed as he took in the scene in front of him.

Truthfully, the silence with so thick that it sent Bella scrambling clumsily out of the tuck, a nervous laugh escaping her mouth as she realized just how normal this all was. She quickly clasped her hand over her mouth as Charlie shot her a warning glare.

"It's late. Get inside, Bella. I'll take Jacob home," he said gruffly, his eyes falling back on Jacob as he gulped again nervously. Charlie looked between the two teenagers one more time, taking in Bella's suddenly defiant stance and arms crossed before stomping off with an indignant huff towards the police cruiser.

Jacob climbed out of the cab and walked around the truck to a shaking Bella. She was biting her lip, her eyes still wide as she watched him close the distance between them. He held out his hand, and she placed her small, cold, pale one in his, instantly warming and relaxing at his touch. His thumb gently stroked the back of her hand, brushing tenderly over her knuckles, and she smiled shyly. A small smile twitched at the corners of his full lips as he leaned in. Her eyes widened and darted to Charlie, who was already sitting in the idling cruiser. His lips captured hers the instant she looked back at him for a brief, sweet kiss that held a silent promise, a slow heat simmering just below the surface.

And then he moved up, along her jaw, his warm breath like heaven against her cool skin. His husky whisper sent a thrill through her entire body, heat shooting through her limbs and compounding the ache in between her thighs.

"Leave your window open," he rasped, kissing her cheek and then taking off, leaving her standing on the curb in the cold, warm with the promise of his return.