Peter’s address was easy to find, since Isabel had already had some points of reference in Black Peak City when she’d looked it up on the map. “So, this is The Wolf’s house,” she murmured, pulling into his driveway. It was a long, low-slung, sand-colored bungalow, like most of the houses in the neighborhood. The windows had black, Spanish-style shutters, which were closed, and the front door was also black, with a huge, wrought-iron doorknocker. Isabel walked up the couple of steps to the door and paused in front of it. Her heart was beating fast. Excitement tingled under her skin, moderated by a thread of fear. Peter was still very much an unknown quantity, but here she was, standing on his doorstep, obeying his orders not to wear any underwear. As if to remind her of this, a gust of the arid Mexican wind blew under her dress, lifting the skirt away from her thighs. She felt incredibly vulnerable. She looked for a doorbell, but there wasn’t one. It seemed that the ornate doorknocker was actually designed to be used.
What do You think about Isabel And The Wolf: (Part 1)?
