Turning toward him, I give him a scathing glare. “My parents were never married. I never even met my dad. The only marriage I know is yours, and it’s sacred, maybe not to you, but to me. I would rather die before I did anything to jeopardize that. Please don’t ask me to do this.”
I feel the curious stares of the people at the bar now, but the only pair of eyes I see are the dark brown ones staring back at me. There’s heavy emotion in his features, telling me that he’s listening. That he feels something about what I’m saying, but I’m afraid it’s still not enough.
Then he leans closer to me, his jeans brushing against mine as his knee squeezes between my legs, and I have to force myself to swallow because Hunter doesn’t see touches like that the same way I do. They don’t affect him the way they affect me, so I bite my tongue and keep quiet.
“Maybe the reason my marriage is so sacred to you is because you’ve always been a part of it. And maybe what I’m asking you isn’t so crazy, after all.”
I’m frozen in place as he drops a twenty on the bar and gets up from his seat. Even as he walks out of the bar, I’m stuck in a state of shock.
What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
When I get back to the hotel, four tall beers later, I find it empty and quiet. They must have gone sightseeing, after all.
We’re supposed to check out another club tonight, and normally, I’d be all for that, but right now, the idea is turning me off. The only thing I want to do right now is take a piss, sleep off this beer buzz, and pretend this morning didn’t happen.
Groggily, I wander down the hall toward the bathroom, and charge through the closed door, heading straight for the toilet. But I don’t make it to the toilet. Instead, the feminine gasp and the sight of pale, freckled flesh in front of me halts my movement.
The beer has my brain moving a little slowly because, instead of bolting out of the bathroom like I should when my eyes land on a naked Isabel, I stand and stare like the dumb asshole I am.
“Oh shit,” I say in a breathy mumble as my gaze focuses on her small, perky breasts, cascading downward until I’m just staring at the tiny triangle patch of curly copper pubic hair.
She doesn’t cover up. Her hand does not slide over her private parts like they should when your husband’s best friend barges through a clearly closed door, like the ogre he is, and although I’m probably standing there staring for only a split second, it feels like so much longer. That one long second might as well be ten minutes of me gawking at her naked body, memorizing every tiny freckle, the curve of her collarbones, the way her hip bones jut out from her delicate frame, looking so fragile she could break.
In that one split second, I commit all of Isabel to memory, a memory I have no rights to and definitely don’t deserve.
But like I said, my brain is a horny, fickle asshole who doesn’t behave.
When the world starts spinning again, I crash backward, out of the bathroom, and bolt toward the living room. A moment later, she’s behind me, a soft hand on my shoulder as I stumble toward the fridge for a bottle of water.
“Drake, stop,” she commands, and I keep my eyes averted, even when she puts herself in front of me. To my relief, she’s covered herself, wrapping a white towel around her body.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were home. Where’s Hunter?” I ask, looking around for him.
“He went out to get something to eat. We decided to stay home since you were gone.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” I reply. “Why were you naked?”
“I went down to the gym while you guys were gone. I just showered again.”
I’m anxious, feeling cornered by her in the hotel room because, at any moment, Hunter is going to walk through that door and see me standing here with his almost-naked wife and normally, that wouldn’t freak me out, but after how bizarre this whole fucking week has been, being alone with Isabel has a whole new significance.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
Finally, I meet her gaze to see that she’s just as unnerved as I am. “I’m okay. Are you okay?”
Instead of saying yes, she shrugs. “We should talk about this.”
“About what?” I ask, even though I know full well what we’re supposed to be talking about.
“About what he said this morning.”
“I told him no, Isabel. You told him no. I know Hunter can be relentless, but this is up to us, and as long as you say no, that won’t change.”