Isabel and the Wolf: (Part 3) (10 page)

“Josie knows nothing!” he said loudly. “She couldn’t begin to understand!” Isabel flinched at the strength of his reaction. His body was taut, energy seeming to crackle from his skin. She didn’t want the evening to go like this. After such a hard day, what she wanted, more than anything, was to have a sofa night with an incredibly hot man, and it wasn’t about to get sabotaged by the
secrets of Silver City.

“Hey, how about we drop this for now, and enjoy our evening?” she ventured. Peter’s head snapped towards her, but, as he caught her eye, his expression softened.

“You’re right,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I’m sorry.”

The pizza came and they snuggled under a light blanket on the sofa, drinking wine and drowsily watching a movie that was as fascinatingly mind boggling as ever. Every now and then, Peter made some movement to bring himself closer to her, sliding a leg between her thighs, pulling her head onto his chest, curling his body into hers. Each instance filled Isabel with a heady, fluttery feeling, which was more than arousal. When the film finished, they headed to Isabel’s bedroom, drowsily, falling asleep in seconds, wrapped in each other’s bodies.

Isabel was woken in the middle of the night by Peter tossing and turning on the bed.

“What’s the matter?” she whispered.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m just not used to sleeping on such a soft bed.”

“Do you want to sleep on the floor?”

“Do you mind?” he asked. Isabel propped herself up on her elbow and stared at him in the darkness. “Oh, that’s a weird thing to do, isn’t it?”

“It’s pretty unconventional.”

“You’re right. I’ve got to get used to sleeping in normal beds.” Isabel grinned at him, finding his lack of affectation very appealing.

“Maybe this will help you get back to sleep,” she said, and she wriggled close to him and kissed him. He returned her kisses, turning her onto her back. Then, he twisted her hips to the side, and entered her from behind. He fucked her more gently than ever before, rocking against her, continuing to kiss her and caress her breasts. As they were both close to coming, he turned her face away from him, pressing it into the pillow. It was a little insulting, hot, and made her come hard, and, in minutes, they were both asleep again.

They didn’t wake again until mid-morning, with the sun streaming in through a chink in the curtains. Isabel woke first and caught Peter still in a dream. His face was open in sleep, almost boyish, and he slept silently on his back, his full lips firmly closed. She used the opportunity to drink in his looks, to examine his features in a way she couldn’t have done when he was awake. She loved the straightness of his nose; the well-formed arch of his eyebrows; the prominence of his cheekbones, which had initially made her think he was Native American. She loved the way their definition combined with his strong jaw to give him a slightly hollow-cheeked look, which was excitingly masculine. His eyes opened, amber stars, as his pupils rapidly contracted, and dilated again at the sight of her.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning yourself.” She eased her head into the crook of his arm and draped her limbs over his body. “Did you manage to get back to sleep?”

“Oh, yeah! Something knocked me right out!” he said with a grin. She let her eyes fall closed, and they lay there for some time, not speaking or moving. Then Isabel’s stomach started rumbling.

“Coffee and eggs?”

“That would be perfect.” She clambered out of bed and put her gossamer dressing gown on, and went into the kitchen to make food. While she was cooking, Peter came in too, standing behind her and slipping his hands under her robe, caressing her lightly and making her flustered and wet as she scrambled the eggs.

Peter didn’t seem to want to leave after breakfast, nor after lunch. When they weren’t eating, they rolled around in bed together, having sex countless times. Isabel came to love that sensation of him taking hold of her hips and entering her from behind. It was hot and primal. He fucked her doggy style on the bed; doggy style with her on the bed and him standing; against the wall, her standing on a small box to elevate herself enough; over the sofa; facedown, lying flat on a rug, and, once or twice on her back, with her eyes covered.

That evening they went out for dinner in Silver City. It was their first time together in public. When Peter suggested it, Isabel fizzed with relief. As much as she’d taken pleasure in The Wolf being
her
secret, she’d feared that she was
his
secret too, and that was something else entirely. They went back to the Tex-Mex place she’d been to with Kara. Peter took in the candlelight, and the strings of fairy lights here and there.

“Charming,” he said. He pulled her chair out for her, and she was charmed in turn, adoring his old-school manners.

They ordered lots of food and red wine, and, when the menus had been taken away, Peter held her hand across the table. His pupils were slightly dilated, and, in the low lighting, his eyes seemed dark brown, and not amber at all.

“Tell me about your childhood, Bella,” he said. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger.

“You really want to hear about it?”

“Why would I have asked you if I didn’t?”

“No reason at all,” she said and beamed at him. She rested her chin on her clasped hands. “So, I was born in Chicago. My parents are Bob and Jean. I have an older brother and a younger sister. David is six years older. He’s a carpenter, and has a young family in Bloomington, a town in the same state. Melissa is two years younger. She’s a real live wire. She’s been travelling and volunteering in Europe for the past I-don’t-know-how-many years.”

“So you’re the responsible one out of the two of you,” Peter said.

“Yes, it’s been that way up until recently. But now I’m not so sure!” She looked at Peter with a sly grin.

“And you and your brother are both talented at working with your hands.”

“David’s got a really good reputation. He does intricate, ornate work, and he’s getting to be known as a master craftsman,” she said, glowing with pride for her big brother. “We had a pretty standard childhood. Idyllic, really. We grew up right on the water, with a big garden. Our parents were real good about taking us to activities, like sports and music. I played soccer a lot until I was about 13, and then running track took over, and I trained five days a week.”

“Sounds intense.”

“It was good discipline. A lot of girls stop doing sport around that age, because they think it’s unfeminine, or they think it’s cute to pretend they’re weak, or they are weak because they’re starving themselves to try to resemble a celebrity Barbie doll. But running made me take pride in the strength of my body, and I think it made me healthily competitive!” She broke off, struck by the admiration in Peter’s eyes.

“And when did you get into art?” Isabel laughed.

“From the time I could first hold a crayon! I was always doing these really elaborate paintings as gifts for my parents. And by the time I was 10 or 11, I noticed that paintings turned out pretty much how I wanted them to, and that I was getting all of these ideas that I hardly seemed to have control over. I knew I’d major in art from when I was around 15, and from that point, I studied hard in my other subjects to make sure my GPA would be high enough, but art was my sole passion.”

“But doesn’t it destroy your soul to do work for the corporate world?” Isabel paused. From another person, the question might have been insulting, but, coming from Peter, it was just direct. She shook her head.

“No. I receive a brief from my clients, and they set various parameters, of course, but they’re usually pretty flexible. I obviously can’t do anything too out there if I’m working for financial companies, but they like to see a bit of individuality.”

“What else are you working on?”

“Oh – I’m surprised I haven’t showed you yet, actually. It’s a woodcarving. It’s abstract, but I’ve been drawing a lot from my recent experiences in the forest!”

“That sounds amazing. I’d love to see it,” he said.

“Ok, maybe after dinner!”

“And you had a long-term boyfriend, you said?”

“Yes – Jason. He was my high school sweetheart. We met when we were both 15, and grew up together. He also ran track, so we spent a lot of our free time together.

“And you expected to marry him?” Isabel cast her eyes to a spot up high in the corner of the restaurant.

“I did. But we grew apart.” She sighed. “We knew each other too well. And, for me, at least, there wasn’t anything left to learn.” Peter nodded.

“I understand. Did he satisfy you sexually?” Isabel blushed, feeling awkward about discussing past sexual experiences with The Wolf.

“No,” she said, at last. “He was a regular, mainstream guy.”

“And your desires are not mainstream,” he stated.

“No, they’re not. For a long time, I thought all they would be were desires, in my head, when I was alone. But when Jason and I broke up, I realized I had an opportunity to bring them to life.”

“Which is where the website, and I came in?” He was grinning, and she grinned back at him.

“Pretty much!”

“I’m very glad I met you, Bella. And that you gave me another chance after our first meeting.” Isabel gaped at him.

“I thought you were all angry that I was late?”

“I don’t know what comes over me sometimes. I realize that I can take things a little too seriously.” His expression became vulnerable, and she sensed she was getting a glimpse into his soul – a softer and more compassionate thing than she had imagined.

“That’s ok,” she said. “Let’s have a toast.” She was about to say,
to a great dinner
, or something equally light, but he cut in.

“To us, Bella,” he said. They clinked glasses, and her heart filled with dizzy, blissful sensations.

After dinner, they wandered up and down the main street, and Peter took her hand in his. She was ecstatic to be walking hand in hand with this sexy man, and drank in the glances they received – of recognition from people she was becoming acquainted with, admiration from others, and jealousy from a few. She was his, and he was hers. She knew that now.

They took a taxi back to her place, and Peter didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave, that night, or the nights after. Days passed in a blur of sex and lounging, and taking delicious afternoon naps. She was sore and bruised from his cock, but she continued to crave it, taking him in her mouth when it hurt too much to have him inside her again.

It was Sunday morning before they surfaced. Isabel woke up to Peter kissing her fingertips.

“Bella?”

“What is it?” Isabel said drowsily, still half in a crazy dream.

“I have to go away for a few days. Something family-related.” She snapped fully awake.

“What’s happened?”

“I can’t explain, I am sorry.”

“Is it related to your family’s sickness?”

“Yes, kind of.”

“So you’re going to Romania?”

“No, not this time, but I’m going to be out of town.”

“When will you be back?” she asked, sitting up in bed.

“Wednesday,” he replied. She was somewhat reassured by the confidence in his tone.

“You’re not bullshitting me so I don’t harass you with a million questions?” she asked, in a small voice.

“No. I promise. I give you my word. On Wednesday, I’ll be back on your doorstep.” He smiled and kissed her.

“Ok.” She slid down the bed and snuggled into him. She brought her mouth to his and kissed his soft lips, darting her tongue into his mouth. Her hand slid down the six-pack of his torso.

“Have you got time for one more?” she asked, and reached for his cock at the same time. Instantly, he grew hard, but, as she started to move her hand up and down his shaft, he pushed her off.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t. I’m sorry, Bella. I just can’t.”

“But why?”

“I’m just not capable right now.” He stroked her cheek, his eyes full of regret.

“Are you sick?” she asked, in a sudden panic.
How could I be so stupid? He’s said his family has a genetic disorder, so it’s very likely he has it too.

“No, I’m not, honestly,” he said, and pulled her into a hug. She resisted, wanting to keep questioning him, but quickly realized it was futile. Instead, she let herself fall into one of their dreamy embraces, where time seemed to stand still, and all she was aware of was the sound of their breathing and the rhythm of their hearts.

Chapter Six

Her house was so lonely with him gone. They’d been pretty much living together for the past few days, and Isabel felt a physical wrench at having him separated from her. In what was a very short time, he’d opened up to her a lot, if not in terms of telling her his secrets, then at least in the way he’d allowed her to see a softness in him, and a generosity of feeling. She was head over heels, she admitted to herself. But, at the same time, she knew she had to keep a part of herself separate from him, at least until he told her the full story.

To distract herself from her loneliness, Isabel invited Rob and Josie over for dinner. The couple came over and praised the airiness of Isabel’s place, saying it made a nice change from adobe. Josie was in high spirits, talking a lot and being overly affectionate to both Rob and Isabel.