She has no reason to immediately spot the noise for the trigger signalling Hyde's entry, beyond what sounds like he's finally relaxing into their dinner table lovemaking. And it is that, however she deflects the question.

Bella's hand goes white-knuckled over his, like her life depends on it too, and he needs to know she would drown if he weren't there. And there, whipping her up into electric knots that try uselessly and poorly to meet the thrusting with just a table's edge beneath her ass. Between jubilant kisses and marveling at the shift in him, "God, God, like that, Robert," slips out one of his names.