A light shudder rippled through him, and his mouth found mine again.
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I ran my hand down his stone chest now, tracing across the flat planes of his stomach, just marveling. I never got over the shock of how perfect his body was - white, cool, and polished as marble. Charlie would notice if I turned the heat on in August_Īt least, if had to be bundled up, Edward's shirt was on the floor. I hated the necessity of the blanket, but it sort of ruined the romance when my teeth started chattering. 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. Charlie slept obliviously in his room, which was almost as good as being alone.
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"True." I breathed against the winter-cold skin of his throat. I couldn't be more eager to have mine behind me. "Bachelor parties are designed for those who are sad to see the passing of their single days. 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. "Definitely staying," he murmured a moment later. It was just too embarrassing to consider the alternative. (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. Who knew why - some strange glitch in my brain that made it immune to all the extraordinary and frightening things some immortals could do. He couldn't see into my mind, though, the way he saw into everyone else's. He looked back at me as if he could see my soul, too, and as if he liked what he saw. He had the most beautiful soul, more beautiful than his brilliant mind or his incomparable face or his glorious body. It seemed silly that this fact - the existence of his soul - had ever been in question, even if he was a vampire. Our gazes locked for a moment his golden eyes were so deep that I imagined I could see all the way into his soul. Like I was the prize rather than the outrageously lucky winner. It made no sense when he looked at me that way. I opened my eyes and found his open, too, staring at my face. But I knew the smell of my blood still caused him pain - still burned his throat like he was inhaling flames. 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. 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. Sometimes it was so easy to forget that I was kissing a vampire. 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.