He pulled back a few inches to look at me, and his eyes did nothing to help my resolve. They were black fire. They smoldered.
"Why?" he asked again, his voice low and rough. "I love you. I want you. Right now."
The butterflies in my stomach flooded my throat. He took advantage of my speechlessness.
"Wait, wait," I tried to say around his lips.
"Not for me," he murmured in disagreement.
"Please?" I gasped.
He groaned, and pushed himself away from me, rolling onto his back again.
We both lay there for a minute, trying to slow our breathing.
"Tell me why not, Bella," he demanded. "This had better not be about me."
Everything in my world was about him. What a silly thing to expect.