Edward isn’t sure what he finds more appalling—the fact that he’s about to steal far more than a kiss from a respectable young lady, or that his particular tastes dictate he do so in public so as to decrease the likelihood that he will eat her.  The heat between between her legs warms his fingers,  but he can’t bring himself to actually touch her. Edward knows that the moment he does, he will become something he detests.

An exhibitionist.

Pressed against his side, she waits and wants, until she hears a word in a voice she barely recognizes as her own.


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