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you think you recognize all the warning signs



1. you think you recognize all the warning signs

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The first time he sees her, he doesn't know what to do with her.

(But this sort of naivete is exactly what she's looking for.)

Golden hair that glints red in the weak sunlight, long pale legs reaching with perfect curves, a mouth slanting up into a crooked half-smile (sometimes in amusement, mostly in mockery). Her thoughts are full of sex and lust but for some reason he thinks that's just a cover-up. He can't help but believe there's more to this woman than her desire.

Maybe he was wrong.

x x x

He kisses her carefully, the way he thinks he might kiss a girl after their first date, maybe while dropping her off on her front doorstep. That sort of traditional thing where they lean in toward each other and close their eyes at the last second. (He's heard about these things from his friends but it's never happened to him.)

It's over quickly and he pulls back, anxiously gauging her reaction.

She rolls her eyes -- he can't tell if she's amused or annoyed, because it could mean both -- and slams him against the wall, forcing his mouth open and showing his hands the curves of her body.

He freezes, gentlemanly instincts temporarily winning over his primitive ones (and he's still so young, never touched a girl there before). Intending to pull his hands away and apologize, try not to make too much of a fool out of himself.

Cool hands brush across his skin, and halfway between his hipbone and his navel he closes his eyes and moans. He's limp (from stone to water) but somehow she's holding him up -- and then she kisses him, right there, right where it makes him weak.

He opens his eyes and she's two inches away. Running her tongue across her teeth, smiling -- wasn't that fun?

x x x

It's not long before he's the one seeking her out at midnight, hands roaming purposefully up thighs and breath almost condensing in the still frozen air.

He can feel her cocky smile forming against his lips. He growls; she laughs, what's wrong, Edward? You're always so composed, and the sarcasm drips off her lips onto the snow.

x x x

She's rough because she knows that's how he likes it. (They both know he's never had it any other way.)

Sharp fingernails claw into his skin, almost deep enough to make him feel it. She bites him once, on the neck, heated whispers in her bed, because you deserve it.

Maybe you just want me to remember you.

She just smirks and he doesn't need to hear what she's thinking: you won't ever forget me, Edward Cullen.