“What?”
“I let the mistletoe in the bathroom go, but this…?” He pointed to a sprig of the parasitic plant that was tacked over my bed.
“Angela!” I growled under my breath. I looked at Edward. He was looking at me with an amused expression on his face, patiently waiting my explanation.
“It was Angela. I was teasing her about her mistletoe fetish earlier today…I’m sure she thought this was funny.”
“It is.”
“Mortifying is more like it,” I replied.
“Look at that blush,” Edward commented, making me flush even harder. He approached me slowly. “My understanding,” he said quietly, tucking my hair behind my ear, “is that blushing is a sign of guilt, not innocence. What are you thinking, Ms. Swan?”
The question seemed rhetorical as he lowered his face towards mine.
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