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“Come on. Get up.” My tiny frame is nothing against his giant drunk one. But he finally manages to get back on his feet and shuffle to his bed, where he lands against the mattress. I watch him struggle to pull off his shoes, but he’s clearly a lost cause, so I swat his hand away to help him.
“Stop. Don’t be nice to me,” he says with a harsh expression on his face.
“I’ll be as nice to you as I want.” I pull one of his shoes off and drop it onto the hardwood. Then I work on the other. I think for a moment that he’s fallen asleep, but as I pull the second shoe off and gaze up at his face, I see him staring back at me.
“Where have you been?”
“I had to get drunk.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because…your husband is an asshole.”
Well, shit. Despair gnaws away at my gut as I move to unbuckle Drake’s pants. When Hunter came home, he didn’t say much, but I could tell something was up. He’s usually so open with me and after the talk we had this morning, I was anxious for him to report back. Clearly, whatever went down at the club between him and Drake didn’t end well.
“Lift,” I tell him as I shimmy his jeans down his hips. Tugging them off each leg, I discard his jeans on the floor and climb over his body to help him pull off his shirt. His hands slide up my thighs as I do, but I glare at him. “No funny ideas, mister. You know the rules. Plus…I’m on my period and no living thing is allowed near this.” I gesture toward my cramping, aching belly.
“I’ll make you feel better,” he says in a teasing tone, and I just shake my head.
“I think you want to have sex with me to get back at Hunter for whatever he did.”
“I would never do that to you,” he grumbles. He pulls me down until I’m lying in his arms and my heart aches a little as I snuggle against his chest. I’ve wanted this for so long, but now I’m afraid everything we do is crossing a line that’s going to get us all hurt. But this familiarity between us is too pure and good to ignore.
“Tell me what happened at the club,” I say.
He moans. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll be mad at me. And him.”
“He already told me about the kiss, Drake. And I gave him permission to do anything he wanted at the club—with you, of course.”
There’s a delay in his reaction because of the alcohol, but he does eventually lift his head to glare at me. “You did?”
I nod.
“You guys have the weirdest fucking marriage.”
“I know…” I reply.
“What did he say about the kiss?” he asks.
“Not much. But he liked it. And he’s just really confused.”
“Yeah, well…me fucking too.”
“So tell me what happened.”
When he finally relents to talking to me, he shifts to his side and pulls me closer. It’s intimate and making me want so much more with him. In true Drake fashion, his hands never stay in one place. He’s constantly rubbing my back, my hip, my cheek. He does not rest, ever.
“I sucked his dick.”
Gotta love how blunt and shameless Drake is. But I keep quiet for a moment because I need to explore my own reaction first. At first…it’s shock. Maybe a touch of jealousy. And then I imagine it. Drake and Hunter in a club together…Drake’s mouth around Hunter’s dick. I can’t help the way that image makes me feel—hot and excited and very, very turned on.
“Isabel…” he says, gauging my reaction.
“I just need a minute. This is all so hard to get used to.”
