"What are you doing down here?" she whispered breathlessly.
"Resting."
"You have a bed."
"I know." It was just being occupied right now by someone he didn't want in it. In fact, the one he wanted in it finally returned and was staring at him as if she couldn't decide if he were a monster or if she wanted to devour him. He was going to make the choice easy for her. "Finally decide to stop avoiding me?"
She shifted as she bent to pick up her shoes. He looked entirely too tempting sprawled out on the couch. For a brief instant, she wondered what he would do if she walked over to him and laid down beside him. She knew exactly what he would do, and what she would let him do to her.
Her body tightened at the thought of what would happen, of what she wanted to happen. She was desperate to learn what it was her body sought from him and what he could teach her.
She swallowed and took a deep breath as she tried to get herself back under control. All her resolve was slipping away, and she couldn't let that happen. She just couldn't. She needed a few minutes to breathe and relax. The thoughts she was having were wrong. She was supposed to stay away from him, not fantasize about joining him on the couch.
She took a deep breath, strengthened her resolve to treat him as casually as he treated her, and reclaimed her shoes. Standing up, she crossed her arms at her waist, holding her shoes as if they could be used to ward him off.
"I was tired of sleeping on the couch," she admitted.
"I know the feeling."
Isabelle frowned as she studied him. "What?"
He chuckled at the bafflement in her voice. Swinging his legs down, he sat up, his gaze never leaving hers. "They do get uncomfortable."
"Then go to bed," she replied crisply.
"Is that an invitation?"
Isabelle's mouth gaped open as her heart rate accelerated. She took a small step back, shaking her head in denial while her entire body tensed with want, and need. He unhurriedly rose to his feet; he was tall and dangerous in the moonlight as his broad shoulders blocked out the window. "Don't," she whispered, holding her shoes out to ward him off.
"Then go to bed Isabelle."
She found herself unable to move, unable to blink as a lump formed in her throat. She wanted this, wanted him, but she couldn't, she shouldn't. He took a step toward her, and all reason, and logic flew out the window. Her shoes fell to the floor as she began trembling with anticipation. All she wanted was to feel him again, to touch him, to have his hands and mouth on her. His eyes gleamed as she took a step toward him, not caring about the consequences of what she wanted.
"Stefan?" The faint voice jerked both of their heads around. Reality slammed down on her as she took a step into the shadows. "Stefan, are you down here?"
His eyes turned the color of blood as they remained locked on Isabelle's. She was more staggered by the loss of control his red eyes revealed than she was by Jess's interruption. Then, the full reality of Jess's interruption slammed down on her, and anger blazed forth. She slipped further into the shadows, hiding behind the screen in the corner as the kitchen lights flicked on.
"Why do you insist on sleeping down here?" Jess demanded.
Isabelle's blood was boiling as she swung her leg over the banister, desperate to escape from this awful situation. Her gaze landed upon her discarded sneakers, and she froze. The last thing she needed was for Jess to see those sneakers. Gritting her teeth, she tried to decide if she could grab them without drawing any attention to herself.
"You know why, Jess!" he snapped.
Stefan studied Jess as she stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her arms folded over her chest while she glared at him, but his entire body remained focused on Isabelle behind the screen. He knew she had to be angry, and as soon as he got rid of Jess, he would explain what was going on. As much as he hated to admit it, he would tell her the truth.
"You've slept down here for the past three nights," Jess whined.
Isabelle forgot about her sneakers as she turned her head back. She could see his shadow on the screen; he hadn't moved an inch. Her forehead furrowed as she puzzled over Jess's words. He’d been sleeping on the couch for the past three nights?
She swallowed the lump of hope in her throat. Why would he do that?
"Jess, go back to sleep," he said impatiently.
"I'll stay down here with you."
Isabelle's breath froze as Jess's shadow appeared on the screen.
Her hips swung seductively as she approached him. "I've missed you."
She threw her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. Isabelle's temper flash boiled as a bolt of jealousy, so savage it took her breath away, ripped through her. For an emotion she’d never experienced before meeting him, she was becoming all too familiar with its clawing effects.
"I haven't missed you, now go upstairs," Stefan grated.
Isabelle didn't care he was getting rid of Jess, didn't care he’d slept on the couch for the past three nights. All she cared about was what he managed to turn her into; a whore. He was dallying with her while keeping a girlfriend dangling on the side.
She had never thought of herself as immoral, but she realized that was what he’d made her, and she hated it. She hated herself for allowing him to keep doing this to her.
She’d been blaming him for this mess, for the way he made her feel, but it was her fault. She was the one who continuously allowed it to keep happening. She was an absolute idiot. A fool. She’d been about to give herself to a man who had
