“Hunter!” he bellows, his head snapping up to stare at me in horror. “I would never. You know that.”
“I do know that. Hence why I’m not even a little worried. Now will you just chill the fuck out?”
“Fine,” he mutters. “It was just weird. That’s all.”
“Couldn’t have been that weird. I mean…everyone saw how much you were enjoying it,” I reply with a slight chuckle.
“Jesus Christ!” Drake snaps, pulling away from the counter like I punched him. “You saw that?”
Maybe the tequila’s starting to set in, because I probably shouldn’t have admitted that to him since he looks slightly mortified.
“She’s hot,” I reply. “You think I’m going to fault your dick for noticing?”
“You’re so fucking sick,” he replies, this time actually cracking a smile.
And I’m relieved by that. I hate to see my best friend so upset, which might explain why I’m not as upset as I should be.
“I’m going to go check on her,” I say, leaving Drake in the kitchen. He starts browsing through his phone, and I can tell by the softness of his expression and the slight loss of focus in his eyes that the tequila has set in. Which tells me he’s not going to be upset about it anymore.
“Yeah, okay,” he mumbles as I leave the room.
When I enter our bedroom with an attached en suite bathroom, I instantly pick up the smell of lavender, a scent that immediately has my cock stirring because it means she’s near. These lavender baths are almost a daily ritual for her. Each night she escapes into her warm bubble bath, soaking in the calming scent, which she then brings to bed with her so our sex and my dreams are laced with the familiar smell. It’s calmly infiltrated itself into my life, and I’m so not complaining.
“Hello, beautiful,” I whisper, peeking my head into the foggy bathroom to find her with a book in her hands and bubbles up to her chin.
“Hey,” she says sweetly, drunk on the heat of the water.
With a laugh, I sit on the side of her tub and brush a hand over her head. “Red, it’s like a hundred degrees outside. How can you take a hot bath right now?”
“You know I love my nightly soaks. Besides, I wanted to give you a few minutes to talk to him. Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. Why are you two making a big deal out of this?” I ask.
She sits up a little taller. “You’re not mad?”
I shake my head. “Not at all. If anything…” I say, letting my hand skate over her cheek and down the moist skin of her neck. She hums in response. “That whole thing got me a little turned on.”
“Seeing me being touched by your best friend turned you on?” she asks in a teasing tone.
And I know she’s joking because that is ridiculous. I wouldn’t be in my right mind if that turned me on, but she voices the exact thought in my head, except in my head…I’m not kidding.
Seeing Drake with my wife did turn me on. The sight of his hands on her body had my blood racing more than I’d like to admit. It’s not exactly something I want to unpack right now. Or ever.
Because, deep down, the arousal that swept over me at that moment makes me feel like less of a man. Like Drake said, I should have been raging. I should have claimed her, punched him, and turned into a feral, territorial caveman. But I didn’t. Instead, I watched with intrigue and excitement.
And when he slammed his stiff erection against my wife, the gasp that came out of her mouth made my already hard cock leak from the tip. I didn’t want them to stop. I wanted him to do it again.
Even now, I can’t deny the visions that keep flashing through my mind. Imagining him up there, instead of hiding his arousal in his pants, letting it out, so he could slam it into her for real. The more I think about her face and the sounds she would make as he fucked her, the harder and more excited I get.
Before I get lost in the erotic spiral of those visions, I pull my hand out of the tub and say, “Seeing you all tied up in that rope turned me on.”
“Oh yeah? So, what are you going to do about it?” Isabel asks seductively as she sets her book to the side and rests her head against the back of the tub.
I bring my focus back to her, this goddess of a woman lying naked in front of me, waiting for me to pleasure her. And I want nothing more than to indulge her.
“Well, let me think…” I say as I unbutton the sleeve of my right wrist. She bites her lip as she watches me roll it up to my elbow. Once it’s pushed out of the way, I touch her neck again, taking my time to graze every perfect inch, from her collarbone down to her right breast, squeezing it in a delicate pinch. She whimpers as I skate my touch over her belly, and she begins to squirm when I find the tiny triangular tuft of hair between her legs.