Bella's throat went dry. Every nerve in her body screamed yes, that she wanted him so badly and had dreamt of him every night, but her mind fought desperately to hold the line she had built for herself.
"Jake… you should stop," she whispered, but her voice was far too weak, trembling like fragile glass. Her voice betrayed her words and saw it.
Jake's lips curved faintly, not in mockery, but in knowing. His hand slid down, brushing the side of her neck, his thumb tracing her skin there. Then, slowly, he leaned in, his breath ghosting against her ear, then lower—his lips brushing against the sensitive curve of her neck.
Bella's breath hitched, her entire body prickling, her hairs standing on end. She tried to get a hold of herself but it seemed her body had a brain of its own.
"Are you sure you want me to stop?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous, vibrating against her skin. "Because if you say yes now, Bella… I'll let you be. So, tell me, Bella. Should I stop?"
