A/N: These characters do not belong to me. Also, I switched tenses on purpose in this story. Let me know if you find it annoying/distracting. I was experimenting and it might not have worked. I gladly welcome all feedback! Thanks!

There were some nights when Bella was relieved Edward was hunting with the other Cullens, some nights when, left to her own devices, she didn't have to play by Edward's rules.

It would start innocently enough. She'd lay on her side, blanket over her body, arms wrapped around her midsection, the way Edward's arms would hold her if he were there. And then the ache would start, first in her heart and then it would travel lower, pooling low in her belly. The ache would turn into a quiet throbbing heat and her skin would start to feel hot to the touch.

That's when the temptation would overtake her. Her hand would find its way under her shirt and she would gently rub the skin on her stomach until the heat spread over her entire midsection.

Rolling onto her side, Bella's hands would start to roam under the covers and her breathing would grow deeper until finally one of her hands would slip up and tease the hard peak of one of her breasts. She'd wonder what it would feel like if it were Edward's hand. Would he do it like she did? Or would he have some better way? Some way that was unique to the undead? Would it just be perfect, like everything else? Thinking of the potential made her shiver.

It was impossible to ignore, to turn off. She would slip her hand beneath her cotton pajama pants and tease her bikini line, wanting to touch herself but wanting Edward to touch her more. She's not wearing underwear and the sensation of skin on skin—in a place where she hasn't known any other hand but her own—is more than nice. She slips her index finger lower, and the warm finger against hot skin is frustrating. Bella burns with longing. She pinches the firm peak of her left breast a little harder and a moan escapes her mouth.

She knows what she wants. With a practiced motion she brings her hand from between her legs up to her mouth and inserts the index and middle finger, wetting them thoroughly with her tongue. Her left hand continues to play. When the fingers are wet enough she pulls them out of her mouth slowly and then blows a bit of cool air over them.

Just a moment later, she slips the wet fingers back between her legs. Knees up in anticipation, she hisses as soon as the cool fingers touch her hot flesh. This is as close as it gets and she savors it, this false sensation of Edward. She rubs herself somewhat roughly, the heat becoming maddening.

She whips the blanket off, needing the cool night air to better replicate the feel of his flesh. She pulls her shirt off and pushed the pajama pants off in a rush. The cool evening air is a shock to her body and it's exactly what she hoped for. Cool evening breezes dance over her breasts, slip between her legs, and send her into a frenzy of moving hands, arching back and knees apart, straining against the night.

Her moans are carried gently on the air, too quiet for the average human ear. But Edward Cullen is not human. He's fresh from the hunt and ready to check on danger-prone girlfriend. He hears her strangled cries and he rushes to her window, terrified he'll find fending off another vampire or something worse. He leaps into the tree next to her window, ready for anything except what he sees before him.

Bella is naked, her back arched, her breasts tight peaks in the moonlight. Her right hand is between her legs, which are bent up and twisting gently, like an unusual and exquisite butterfly in slow-motion flight. It's the most spectacular sight he's ever seen—and the smell, her scent, fills him as the breeze shifts in his direction.

Within an instance he feels ashamed, watching this private moment, which she likely timed to coincide with his absence. He looks away and then hears her, softly, pleading, "Edward…" He looks back, worried that she's caught him intruding on her.

The moon illuminates her pale skin, giving her a grey-blue glow. Her head is tipped back and her eyes are closed as she bites he bottom lip, the soft pink nearly devoured by the pearly white.

He's hard and his rational mind is short-circuiting. The ache is almost too much for him to bear. The monster in his head urges him to go in, to plunge into her and to take what he wants—always what he wants—and to drink from her and to devour her and…he can't do it. He would cry if he were capable, because the man in his head is just as foolish as the monster.

Edward wants Bella desperately, is jealous of her beautiful little hands for getting what he wants, for giving her pleasure that he would give to her if he could trust himself enough to let go. His hand tightens around the tree branch, nearly destroying it but stopping himself before he makes enough noise to interrupt her.

Her heart is racing, her fingers are moving, her skin is flush with excitement and he can hear it, see it, and smell it all and yet somehow he's stuck in a tree unable to move. Unable to give her what she so clearly wants. She's getting close to coasting over the edge of oblivion and he hates himself a little for not being able to turn away and offer her some privacy, but the curiosity and the desire for her has completely overtaken his sense and he's frozen, like a dumb animal being stalked by a knowing prey.

Bella's legs press up and her knees strain to come together—like a butterfly taking flight this time—as her fluttering fingers finish the job. Her back arches, the stroking becomes deeper and harder, and her left hand teases her tight nipples. She's moaning a little louder, and saying it over and over, her lips a kiss to the night, "Edward, please, Edward, yes, Edward…"

He closes his eyes, enjoying her fantasy, imagining the feel of her clenching around his erection, being able to whisper her name as her hips pushed up into his.

She's panting on the bed now, feeling momentarily fulfilled, he thinks. Edward tries to think it through but he's too aroused, too desperate to take care of his own desire to try to discern what this means for them, how he'll pretend this never happened. The only thought in his mind is that he has to find a way to bring her that kind of pleasure. He has to hear her moan his name in a fevered whisper against his ear.

Edward slips away into the night as Bella breathes heavily, the familiar ache returning slowly after the release of so much pent-up tension. The release is good while it lasts but as soon as it's over the knowledge that her fantasy is unlikely to come true leaves her feeling empty.

She wonders how Edward can stand it.