Boxed Set

by Brenda K. Davies

  "I would rethink what you can, and cannot do," she said.

  He smiled in amusement as he took her in. She was sweating and panting, some of her glorious hair escaped from her ponytail to cling wetly to her exquisite face. He had to admit she was the most determined, stubborn, beautiful woman he'd ever seen. They were traits he would respect if they weren't serving to undermine his goal of having her.

  "I see you were taking it easy on Aiden."

  "Of course," she replied with a grin.

  "Good, because I was taking it easy on you."

  She planted her hands on her hips. He gave her a smug smile before turning and walking away. Isabelle's temper was about to explode, and he was going to be on the receiving end of it when she blew.

  Four plays later Mike wanted to give her the ball again. She almost refused, not wanting to take the chance Stefan might be able to catch her, but she changed her mind. There was no way he could get her, and this was the perfect opportunity to show him he was completely wrong. No one was going to break her, least of all him!

  She flashed him a cocky grin as she waited for Mike's command. She bolted off the line, caught the ball, and put every ounce of energy she had into running. Her legs were burning, and her lungs were on fire as she neared the goal line. She was only ten feet from it when she felt his arms wrap around her waist. Despair washed over her. She hugged the ball against her chest as the ground rushed up to meet her.

  Grunting from the force of the impact, she lay still beneath him, unable to believe he caught her! Then, his hands were on her shoulders, and he was hurriedly turning her over. His troubled eyes scanned her face worriedly.

  "Are you okay?" he demanded harshly.

  Isabelle was astounded to discover he was concerned about her. "Of course, you tackle like a girl," she couldn't help but tease.

  Stefan searched her face again to see if she was lying. He knew her pride would keep her from admitting any pain. Her violet eyes twinkled as she grinned at him. That smile caused something to shift inside him as he realized he was afraid he'd injured her in his overzealous attempt to prove he could catch her and prove she couldn't avoid him. He’d never been worried about anyone in his life.

  "Well, you would know," he retorted before he began to think about what that worry might mean.

  Isabelle laughed as he grinned at her. Sweat matted his black hair to his forehead, and his skin glistened with it. Suddenly, she became aware of the heat of his arms and the way they felt around her. Their encounter in the bathroom flashed through her mind as her body tensed with anticipation.

  He must have seen something in her face for his smile suddenly vanished. Isabelle's breath froze in her lungs as she felt him lengthen against her thigh. She shuddered in response to the hunger radiating from him.

  "You caught her!" Aiden jogged up to stand behind Stefan’s shoulder as he ruined the moment.

  He liked them, but Stefan was getting sick of all the interruptions her family caused. He was beginning to think he would never have a minute alone with her. Isabelle shifted beneath him, and he had to stifle a groan against the bolt of fire that caused his erect shaft to jump. He ground his teeth as he forced himself to his feet and pulled her up with him.

  "I can't believe you caught her! No one's caught her since she was thirteen! This is great!" Aiden declared.

  Aiden's team rushed up to gloat as her team walked over to stand behind her. Isabelle risked a glance at Stefan, expecting to see smug satisfaction in his eyes, but his jaw was locked firmly, and his eyes were troubled and distant.

  Chapter Eleven

  That night, Isabelle gave in to common sense and returned to the other house. She could no longer stand her mother and father's questioning looks. Nor could she stand her cowardice. She couldn't avoid Stefan forever, and hiding from him was proving to be a useless endeavor. He would find her; she just needed to make up her mind about what she would do when he did. She was becoming more eager just to cast all reason out the window. However, her concern about the consequences which might follow kept holding her back.

  She could no longer deny the attraction she felt for him was something more than a simple, passing fancy. It was the possibility of what the something more might be scaring her. She would take her chances and see how the chips fell. There was still the hope he wasn't her soul mate, that maybe she was wrong, but every day her hope grew smaller. She wasn't even entirely sure she wanted to hold on to it anymore.

  In the short time he’d been here, he’d managed to totally disrupt her life. She wasn't quite ready to concede defeat, but her determination was wavering. She needed time to sort through everything.

  She stayed to help her parents clean up, but her mother shooed her away when only a few dishes were left, so the house was dark by the time she returned. She was grateful for that fact. She was completely exhausted, and she didn't want to deal with anyone tonight. Her muscles were sore from the football game, a game they’d managed to win by the skin of their teeth, and she longed for a comfortable bed instead of an uncomfortable couch at her parents’.

  She pulled her shoes off and moaned in pleasure as she wiggled her cramped toes. Soundlessly opening the screen door, she picked up her shoes and crept into the hushed house. She tiptoed through the entryway and into the living room.

  "You came back," Stefan murmured.

  Isabelle almost shrieked as she jumped in surprise. Her shoes slipped from her numb fingers. She spun, her heart hammering and her breath coming in rapid pants.

  "Didn't mean to scare you," he said.

  Isabelle inhaled briskly as the adrenaline jolt she’d received dissipated. "Crap," she whispered her hand flying to her chest. "Don't do that!"

  Stefan chuckled in amusement. "Sorry, I figured you would sense me."

  Now that she wasn't shaking with terror, and her heart was returning to normal, she could think again. "I wasn't paying attention."

  "So I noticed."

  His onyx eyes gleamed predatorily in the moonlight streaming through the windows. He was sprawled out on the couch, his hands propped behind his head on one of the pillows. His long legs were crossed, his lower calves and feet dangled over the edge of the armrest. He looked relaxed, but she sensed a tension in him belying his demeanor. He also looked delicious, she decided.

  "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 ge
t 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 his girlfriend in the same house as her!

  What was she thinking? What was the matter with her? Self-loathing crashed through her in waves leaving her nauseous and drained. She needed to get out of here, now.

  "Stefan, come on," Jess whined.

  He winced as her voice grated on his nerves. She ground suggestively against him causing the erection he experienced with Isabelle to vanish instantly. He grabbed hold of her arms and lifted her away from him. "Go upstairs, Jess," he grated. "I told you it’s over."

  She slammed her hands onto her hips. "It's Isabelle, isn't it? She's why you don't want to be with me anymore! You just want to add another conquest to your list by screwing her!"

  Stefan winced inwardly as his eyes went to the screen. Isabelle must be seething by now, but at least he wouldn't have to tell her it was over between him and Jess. This conversation was ample proof.

  "Jess—"

  "Don't you Jess me!" she yelled. "I can't believe you would screw that slut!"

  The anger seizing him was swift and volatile; it caused him to react before thinking as he grasped her arms. "Don't talk about her like that!" he hissed, drawing her up, so her eyes were even with his. Jess's eyes widened in alarm as she stared at him. Stefan clenched his jaw and forced himself to release her. "Be out of this house tomorrow."

  Jess's eyes filled with tears as she spun on her heel and raced out of the room. "Fine!" she shouted over her shoulder as she pounded up the stairs.

  Stefan stood silently as his eyes rested on the screen. He suddenly didn't want to go anywhere near her. What had she done to him? His actions toward Jess were so unexpected, and out of character, he was stunned by them. For a moment, he’d been ready to rip Jess's throat out.

  He took a deep breath to steady himself before striding over to the screen and pulling it back. She was gone. He contemplated going after her, finding her, talking to her, and much, much more. Then, he changed his mind. He needed time to think, time to sort through his jumbled mess of emotions. He was beginning to realize it was more than a desire to have her in his bed, but something more, something he wasn't sure he wanted. He was beginning to care about the infuriating witch.

  It was the first time he’d allowed himself to care about anyone since he'd been a child. He vowed never to let it happen again, but somehow she’d managed to wedge her way under his defenses. Maybe she was right; maybe they should stay away from each other.

  His entire existence was nothing but death and destruction. All Isabelle knew was happiness and love here. He would never let her know about the ruthlessness of his life. Growing closer to her may be the biggest mistake he ever made, but something about her kept drawing him to her, something about her made him determined to possess her.

  The best thing for her, probably for both of them, would be for him to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not yet anyway. He wanted to be near her for a little longer. He frowned as he thrust the screen back into place.

  For the first time, he realized when Isabelle was near, the loneliness he’d experienced since destroying Brenda didn't tear at him anymore. For the first time since he’d been thrust into this dark existence, there was a little bit of peace in his soul.

  And it was because of her.

  Confused, and extremely disgruntled, he returned to the couch. He lay awake for a long time before sleep finally claimed him. And then, the dreams started again.

  Chapter Twelve

  Isabelle managed to avoid him, and everyone else, for most of the next day. She was scared Ethan would sense her humiliation and discomfort. The Stooges would make some comment about her staying at her parents’ house, and the idea of running into Jess petrified her. Her self-hatred was bad enough without having to see Jess's loathing on top of it.

  She got up before the sun rose, knowing Aiden was leaving. She wanted to say goodbye to him before everyone else got up. She managed to corner him by the bathroom as soon as he rose. She ended up in tears by the time they broke apart. The tears shocked them both, and made her realize just what an emotional mess she’d become.

  He promised he would visit soon and pleaded with her to stop crying. Although he was
too much of a man to cry, he was as reluctant to release her as she was to release him. When she finally managed to let him go, she turned and fled from the house. She knew her absence from his departure would be remarked on later, but she didn't care.

  It had been years since she’d gone to the tree house, but that was where she sought her sanctuary. She sat in the tree for hours, watching the sun move across the sky as she tried to sort through the mess of her jumbled emotions. As the sun set, she realized she hadn't come close to figuring out how she felt. She wasn't sure she ever would.

  She refused to cry again, no matter how much she wanted to. Crying was not going to solve her problem, and she was already annoyed with herself for being weak. When she finally climbed out of the tree house, she was tired and emotionally drained. She wrapped her arms around herself to help ward off the cold chill permeating her entire being. She made her way down the path and back to the house.

  She couldn't avoid all of them forever. She was going to have to deal with it and take everything as it came. She couldn't keep living like this. He would be leaving soon, Jess would be leaving soon, and then it would all be over. That thought didn't give her the reassurance it used to, but she refused to linger over the reason why. She couldn't allow herself to be alone with him anymore.

  Isabelle tiredly climbed the steps and opened the screen door. Everyone was back from working on the new house, and they were now watching a movie in the living room. They all turned to look at her when she entered.

  "Where have you been all day?" Ethan inquired.

  Isabelle shrugged absently. "Around."

  "You missed Aiden."

  "I said goodbye to him this morning."

  She moved forward to lean against the doorframe. She stared blankly at the action movie they all turned back to watch. She found her gaze traveling involuntarily toward Stefan. He sat in one of the recliners; his feet propped up, and his gaze raptly focused on her. It took all she had to turn away.