Isabelle rolled over, her body aching with the remnants of the most erotic dream she had ever had. Ian had been making love to her, with his mouth and fingers, bringing her to the brink before her treacherous mind had pulled her from sleep. She opened her eyes to her dim bedroom and was relieved to see that Ian was not in bed with her. She could faintly hear the shower running in her adjoining bathroom. 'Thank God' she whispered as she disentangled herself from the covers and pulled her t-shirt down from where it had ridden up to her armpits.
She snuggled back down under the covers and tried to calm her frantically beating heart. Ian had been kissing her, touching her, and she had liked it. Not only liked it, she had wanted it with an intensity that left her breathless. She imagined Ian's on her, caressing and stroking her. He had ignored the ugly scars that covered her and left her on the verge of begging for more.
'It was a dream,' she told herself. There had been absolutely no indication that Ian felt anything other than sympathy and maybe guilt for what had happened to her. No matter how much she dreamed about him, naked in her bed, it was not likely to happen. She may have been a victim but she had still killed the older brother that he had loved and idolized from childhood. She was just lucky that he was kind enough to understand that she had done what she had to do. Falling for her just wasn't in the cards. She sighed; she just wished that she could convince her body and heart of this.
@@@@
Isabelle woke again, snuggled into Ian's pillow, surrounded by the spicy scent of his aftershave. Daylight filled the room, streaming in through the tall windows. Remembering pieces of the erotic dream she had been having, she groaned and pulled the pillow over her head. She had to get the images of a naked Ian out of her head or she would never be able to speak to him without blushing. She wanted him. She wanted him badly. Groaning again, she got out of bed and headed to the shower.
She didn't think that it was just because he had saved her life. He was smart, funny, gentle. Oh God, she had it bad. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she admitted to herself that he was exactly the kind of guy that she had always dreamed of and never expected to find. Except for the drinking blood part, but who would anticipate that?
Even the idea of Ian feeding from her was exciting, scary but exciting. She brought up a hand and felt the tiny scars on her neck. The idea of him caressing her with want and need instead of comfort, brought a tingle to her body. She imagined him taking her from behind, watching him in the mirror as he pleasured her, his hands on her body, his mouth on her neck licking, sucking and finally biting as she climaxed. Shivering, she ran her hands over her t-shirt clad body, wishing it was his hands instead of hers.
Showering didn't really help. Hyper aware of her body, even the act of lathering up the soap felt erotic. And sliding her hands over her body left her achingly aroused. Drifting into fantasies of Ian's hands on her, she brought herself to a wrenching climax that left her weak kneed and shaky.
Slipping back into the bedroom wrapped only in a towel, the first thing that she noticed was that there were several packages on the neatly made bed. Blushing, she crossed to the bed, hoping that whoever had made it hadn't heard her in the shower. Some of the clothes she ordered had already arrived as well as some of her art supplies.
Feeling like a child at Christmas, Isabelle tore into the packages. She smiled and wondered what Ian would think of her in real clothes for a change. Maybe he would start to see her as something other than his brother's victim. She hoped so. She opened another package and silky pj's were revealed. Maybe she would have to wear one to sleep in tonight. 'Get a grip girl,' she told herself. 'Let's not humiliate yourself and embarrass him silly to boot.' Daydreams were one thing. Actually acting on them was another thing altogether.
Opening up her new sketchbook, Isabelle caressed the blank pages with a gentle hand. Was she ready to draw again? She was almost afraid that the only thing that would come out would be images of what had happened to her. Maybe that would be a good way to get them out of her head, then she could shut them away and get on with living.
She took it with her, along with her charcoals and headed out to see what marvelous concoctions had been created for breakfast. She had been putting on weight and was no longer skin and bones, just thin. Although a few more weeks of Mrs. Daily's cooking and she would have to go on a diet, that woman could cook like nobody's business. At this thought, she grinned. Mrs. Daily's cooking skills were only occasionally utilized. For the most part, she only cooked for the staff and the occasionally guest. She did work for vampires after all.
Isabelle had been surprised to find that the servants knew exactly whom they were working for. Many of them were second and third generation. For the most part, they held the Sterlings in the highest regards. The family was well known for fair business dealings and generosity for things like the local fire departments, police departments, and local charities. She had a hard time imagining the elder Sterling as anything other than a straight-laced tyrant. She sighed; their first meeting had made her extremely uncomfortable with him, despite everyone else's high opinion of him.
Cinnamon and other spices drifted to her nose and made her aware of the fact that her stomach was growling. She opened the door to the kitchen and was hit with a heavier scent of heavenly baking and Mrs. Daily's caroling greeting. Today would be a good day.
@@@@
"Mr. Sterling," said the agitated secretary, "surely this is unnecessary. It is an invasion of Mr. Sterling's personal office. Surely he wouldn't approve."
Ian had hoped that by showing up at the office early he would be able to avoid the regular employees that might ask too many questions. He had not planned on Prudence McKindrick, Cullen's secretary, being so dedicated to her job that she showed up early when her employer was out of the office. Ian hesitated for a moment. Cullen's death had not been made public yet and he had to think fast. "Ms. McKindrick my father owns this company. During Cullen's absence, he has asked me to retrieve some things from Cullen's office for him. Cullen will get over it."
"Surely I can assist with anything that you need to find," responded Prudence, "I have been Mr. Sterling's personal secretary for almost twenty years. I know where everything is." She gave him a brittle smile that did not reach her eyes.
Prudence McKindrick was the stereotypical middle-aged secretary. Her plain brown hair was pulled into a severe bun. The hem of her tailored suit fell below her knee and she even had a slender golden chain attached to her glasses.
