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“Nothing as good as this one, but we saw some interesting places.”
“Oh yeah?” Geo asks with a flirtatious lift of his brow. “You’ll have to share some of the stories with me sometime. I’m intrigued.”
Hunter’s drink slams against the bar with a clunk, so loud I’m surprised his glass doesn’t break. “We have a meeting. Let’s go,” he barks as he stands from his seat.
And I almost get up. I almost follow him because that’s what I’ve always done. He leads, I follow. He says jump, and I say ‘how high.’ Or rather…he says ‘fuck my wife’ and I say ‘yes, sir.’ But that’s what got me in this situation. And now my heart is a fucking mess. My head is a mess. I’m not the same person I was before this trip, and I can’t risk losing their friendship even more than we already have. So I can’t just follow Hunter anymore.
For his own good, I keep my ass on this barstool, and I force a tough swallow. “I don’t need to go to the meeting. If you have any construction questions for me, we’ll meet up after. But you go. I’m gonna stay here.”
My eyes lift up to meet his and the intensity of his expression literally hurts. It’s a punch to the gut. Because I’m drawing that line back in the sand. And I swear it looks like he has something to say, but in true Hunter fashion, he swallows it down.
“Fine,” he mutters. Then he glances ominously at Geo, before looking back at me. “Just remember our club has a two-drink limit.”
“Yep,” I reply, trying not to let those words hurt the way he wants them to.
And with that, he turns and walks away. I recognize the anger in his gait, but I don’t dwell on it. Turning back to Geo, I smile. I need to get back to myself, and there’s only one way to do it.
If my heart isn’t going to get over Hunter and Isabel, my dick will.
Rule #27: Get your story straight.
Hunter
I’mearly for the meeting, and I hate being early. Not even Emerson is here yet, and he’s always the first one in the room.
I drop into a chair with a scowl on my face and stare at the wood grain of the conference table. I’m stewing like the stubborn asshole I am. I’m mad at Drake for ditching me, obviously flirting, and I’m proactively angry at him for what I’m pretty sure he’s about to do with the bartender.
What the fuck is wrong with him? He goes straight from our trip to trying to fuck someone else. How could he do that to Isabel? Why can’t he just keep his dick in his pants for one fucking second?
It seemed pretty clear to me this past week that the three of us have a bond. Did he not see it that way? No. It was just fucking to him and we mean nothing. And to think I wanted to make this relationship work among the three of us. I actually considered bringing him into my marriage long-term, but of course, he doesn’t want that. That would require not sticking his dick in the first person that walks by.
“What’s wrong with you?” Garrett, one of my co-owners, says with a furrowed brow as he enters the room. He’s not exactly the kind of friend you confide in. Garrett is great for a laugh and a good time, but if I unloaded every detail of the past two weeks on him, his head would explode from trying to take it seriously. I force my chest to take a deep breath as I glance up at him.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
Garrett laughs. “Sure. Judging by the angry scowl on your face, you’re either not too happy to be back or didn’t have any fun on your trip at all.”
“Nah. The trip was great, and I’m happy to be back.” One truth and one lie. The tripwasgreat and I wish it never ended.
“You didn’t lose Drake in the sex clubs, did you?”
“He’s here. At the bar,” I mumble.
“I bet he had a good time. I was half expecting him to not come back at all.”
I don’t respond. A minute later, the rest of the team start filing in. Emerson and Charlie, her walking in front of him with his hand pressed gently against the small of her back. Maggie typing away at something on her phone like she usually is.
They all greet me, smiling and asking about my trip, and I try to keep my smile as natural as possible. Then, of course, they all inquire about Drake and my fake smile gets harder to hold.
“All right, Hunter. Tell us everything. I’m sure you have a lot of thoughts and ideas.” Emerson leans back in his chair, staring at me thoughtfully as he waits. I do have a lot of thoughts and tons of ideas, but a certain giant blond asshole won’t get out of my brain and let me think.
“Yeah…” I stammer, “I didn’t get a chance to put together a presentation yet. We had to move Drake out of his apartment yesterday, but I can whip something—"
“It’s fine,” Emerson says with a crooked smile. “We don’t need a presentation, Hunter. Just tell us about your trip.”
I let out a heavy sigh.Think, Hunter. Think. But there are no clear thoughts, just images and memories and nothing I could possibly share with them. Like the moment I watched Drake tie up my wife for the first time…during that… “Shibari demonstrations,” I blurt out, suddenly using the memory of them as my muse. “We saw some pretty amazing demos that I’d love to bring here.” I sit upright in my chair. “Once a month, let the members learn how to do it themselves.”
“Perfect. That would go well with our other kink demos. Anything else?”
