Јована Пантић

“Tamper with my memory?" I asked nervously.
"Something like that." He was watching me intently, carefully, but there was humor deep in his eyes. He
placed his hands against the Jeep on either side of my head and leaned forward, forcing me to press back
against the door. He leaned in even closer, his face inches from mine. I had no room to escape.
"Now," he breathed, and just his smell disturbed my thought processes, "what exactly are you worrying
about?"
"Well, um, hitting a tree —" I gulped "— and dying. And then getting sick."
He fought back a smile. Then he bent his head down and touched his cold lips softly to the hollow at the
base of my throat.
"Are you still worried now?" he murmured against my skin.
"Yes." I struggled to concentrate. "About hitting trees and getting sick."
His nose drew a line up the skin of my throat to the point of my chin. His cold breath tickled my skin.
"And now?" His lips whispered against my jaw.
"Trees," I gasped. "Motion sickness."
He lifted his face to kiss my eyelids. "Bella, you don't really think I would hit a tree, do you?"
"No, but I might." There was no confidence in my voice. He smelled an easy victory.
He kissed slowly down my cheek, stopping just at the corner of my mouth.
"Would I let a tree hurt you?" His lips barely brushed against my trembling lower lip.
"No," I breathed. I knew there was a second part to my brilliant defense, but I couldn't quite call it back.
"You see," he said, his lips moving against mine. "There's nothing to be afraid of, is there?"
"No," I sighed, giving up.
Then he took my face in his hands almost roughly, and kissed me in earnest, his unyielding lips moving
against mine.
There really was no excuse for my behavior. Obviously I knew better by now. And yet I couldn't seem
to stop from reacting exactly as I had the first time. Instead of keeping safely motionless, my arms
reached up to twine tightly around his neck, and I was suddenly welded to his stone figure. I sighed, and
my lips parted.
He staggered back, breaking my grip effortlessly.
"Damn it, Bella!" he broke off, gasping. "You'll be the death of me, I swear you will."
I leaned over, bracing my hands against my knees for support.
"You're indestructible," I mumbled, trying to catch my breath.
"I might have believed that before I met you.”
― Stephenie Meyer, Twilight