I’d never seen anything more beautiful – even as I ran, gasping and screaming, I could appreciate that. And the last seven months meant nothing. And his words in the forest meant nothing. And it did not matter if he did not want me. I would never want anything but him, no matter how long I lived.
He hesitated - not in the normal way, the human way. Not the way a man might hesitate beefore he kissed a woman, to gauge her reaction, to see how he would be recieved. Perhaps he would hesitate to prolong the moment, that ideal moment of anticipation, sometimes better than the kiss itself. - Twilight (Chapter 13)