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           Hiseyeswerepeaceful.

           "Itwon’tbesohardagain,"hesaidwithsatisfaction.

           "Wasthatveryhardforyou?"

           "NotnearlyasbadasIimagineditwouldbe.Andyou?"

           "No,itwasn’tbad...forme."

           Hesmiledatmyinflection."YouknowwhatImean."

           Ismiled.

           "Here."Hetookmyhandandplaceditagainsthischeek."Doyoufeelhowwarmitis?"

           Anditwasalmostwarm,hisusuallyicyskin.ButIbarelynoticed,forIwastouchinghisface,somethingI’ddreamedofconstantlysincethefirstdayI’dseenhim.

           "Don’tmove,"Iwhispered.

           NoonecouldbestilllikeEdward.Heclosedhiseyesandbecameasimmobileasstone,acarvingundermyhand.

           Imovedevenmoreslowlythanhehad,carefulnottomakeoneunexpectedmove.Icaressedhischeek,delicatelystrokedhiseyelid,thepurpleshadowinthehollowunderhiseye.Itracedtheshapeofhisperfectnose,andthen,socarefully,hisflawlesslips.Hislipspartedundermyhand,andIcouldfeelhiscoolbreathonmyfingertips.Iwantedtoleanin,toinhalethescentofhim.SoIdroppedmyhandandleanedaway,notwantingtopushhimtoofar.

           Heopenedhiseyes,andtheywerehungry.Notinawaytomakemefear,butrathertotightenthemusclesinthepitofmystomachandsendmypulsehammeringthroughmyveinsagain.

           "Iwish,"hewhispered,"Iwishyoucouldfeelthe...complexity...theconfusion...Ifeel.Thatyoucouldunderstand."

           Heraisedhishandtomyhair,thencarefullybrusheditacrossmyface.

           "Tellme,"Ibreathed.

           "Idon’tthinkIcan.