That was when she smelled it.
She stiffened instantly; her legs fell away from him. All her pleasure vanished immediately as anger and loathing threatened to choke her.
"Stop! Get off!" she cried, shoving angrily at his chest and shoulders as she squiggled to break free of his iron grasp, but he didn’t move.
She pushed at him again, but it was like shoving at a brick wall. Tears of frustration welled up in her as she fought back rolling waves of nausea. Finally, he lifted his head from her breast to gaze down at her. She stopped shoving at him and quickly pulled her nightgown back into place; embarrassment rose to mix with the tangle of her emotions.
Clinging to the neckline of her nightgown, she forced herself to lift her chin and stare at him. She moved to get off the counter, but he planted his hands on either side of her. His arms shook when his smoldering onyx eyes met hers. There was regret in his gaze as he kept her from escaping.
"Isabelle—"
"No! Get away from me!"
Releasing her nightgown, she went to shove at his chest again but thought better of it. She didn't want to touch him, didn't want to feel the heat of his body. She was scared she would lose her will if she did.
"You just left her bed and now... now..." She broke off, unable to speak through the humiliation suffusing her. She was appalled at herself, infuriated with him, and all she wanted was to run to her room, bury herself under her blankets, and forget this awful experience happened. Isabelle inhaled briskly as his gaze traveled leisurely over her.
"You didn't mind a minute ago," he replied with a sneer.
The breath rushed out of her as all her composure fractured and rage sprang forth. Without thinking, she swung her hand up with every intention of hitting him. He caught it easily, holding it in his large, powerful hand. His face became as emotionless as granite, and his eyes were cold chips of black ice. He looked unbelievably deadly, and she knew he could break her in half if he chose to.
"Don't," he growled in warning.
She glared hatefully at him. Stefan shook with unfulfilled lust as he met her furious stare. Then, he dropped her arm and stepped away before he found himself unable to let her go. Her eyes flickered uncertainly over his face before she warily slid off the counter. He made no move toward her as she tilted her chin, cast him a scathing look, and stormed away.
Stefan leaned against the counter and admired the sway of her hips as she hurried away. He closed his eyes against the pressure in his throbbing dick and the overwhelming disappointment filling him.
Shit, he thought silently. He hadn't meant to say that to her, hadn't intended to be so cruel. It was himself he was mad at, not her. But he’d been so aroused, and so irritated when she'd told him to stop, he hadn't been able to stop himself from getting nasty with her.
And the kick in the ass of it all was it was his fault. She’d been willing, he could have taken her before she even knew what was happening, but he’d completely forgotten about Jess. Of course, she would smell Jess on him, in him. She was one of his kind, after all.
"Shit," he muttered as he slammed his hand on the counter in frustration.
Shoving himself away from it, he stormed over to the door and flung it open. He was desperate to escape from the suddenly stifling confines of the house. A refreshing dip in the lake was what he needed to douse his arousal as he attempted to sort out the mess he’d gotten himself into.
Chapter Nine
Isabelle was in the worst mood of her life when she woke the next day. Not only had she gotten almost no sleep, but that jerk had ruined what little sleep she did get by invading her dreams. Dreams that left her tingling and aching for something she didn't understand. Dreams starting where last night ended.
She dressed quickly in a pair of cut-off shorts and a loose tank top before pulling her hair into a ponytail. Glancing at the basement window, she was surprised to note the sun was starting to rise. She scowled; she was never up this early, and that was his fault too. So was the fact she was starving.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath to calm the fire racing through her veins. She tried to recall the last time she fed, but she couldn't remember. It was before Stefan came, four... no, five days ago. Hunger exploded through her, hot and burning with its intensity. She’d never let herself go this long before, but she'd been so obsessed with him, and trying to stay away from him, she’d completely forgotten about it. Her body was now painfully reminding her.
Hurrying out of the basement, she practically ran up the stairs in her eagerness to ease the anguish in her body. She froze in the doorway of the living room when Jess came out of the downstairs bathroom and headed for the kitchen. She looked pretty with her light blonde hair flowing down her shoulders and back. She wore a pair of form-fitting jeans, and a tank top emphasizing her full chest, and curvy figure.
A bolt of jealousy shook Isabelle to the core and left her breathless. Determined to smother the emotion, she gritted her teeth against it and took a deep breath. She didn't care what, or who, the arrogant ass did. After last night, she knew she’d been right; she hadn’t stumbled across her soul mate. The
