“i don’t think you could look ugly if you tried.”
He presents an illusion of doze, reclined as he is amidst the deadening blooms of their meadow with his eyes closed and his hands folded contentedly across his chest. Beside him, he can hear the drag of her finger softly against the thin edge of one of her book's pages and Edward reaches to catch her hand before she slices her skin. Bella burns in his hold, brilliantly and beautifully alive; he tugs on her arm until he can pass the print of her finger over his lips and peeks an eye open. That gold glitters with amusement at the irony of his rescuing her from a papercut, only to bring her near enough to his teeth that he can almost taste her already.
❝ Mmm, ❞ he rumbles in acknowledgment. Edward shuts his eye once more, but doesn’t release her. Instead, his fingers dance down her palm and wrist to tap out the beat of Clair de Lune against the inseam of her sleeve - covered arm. Like this, her own hand brushes his ribs through his shirt. He fakes an inhale that he can better feel her touch against him even just for a moment.
When she says nothing else, he blinks to reality and beholds her gnawing at her lip like something perturbs her. Now he relinquishes her arm, but sits up so that he cuts the distance between them and invades her space. Edward waits until she stops pretending to read. ❝ What’s this? Hm? ❞ It’s getting colder and the wildlife out here has begun to slow down. If he listened closer, he could hear something fussing in the treeline, but all his attention is on Bella. Edward strokes the shell of her ear with touch light enough to tickle. ❝ So pensive, ❞ he teases. ❝ Tell me what you’re thinking please. ❞
— @obsessist / A SLIVER OF DARKNESS.
