Give Me More (Salacious Players Club #3) (70)

Finally gathering up some courage, I get out of the car and walk up to the front door with my spare key. As I step into the house, I smell the aroma of something sweet filling the space. There’s music playing from a speaker somewhere and I stop on the doormat as I watch Isabel cross the brightly lit kitchen in nothing but a T-shirt and apron. She’s sliding a muffin pan out of the oven as she sways her hips to the Sam Cooke song playing.

I scan the room for Hunter, and when I don’t see him, I almost turn around and walk out of the house. Not today. I cannot handle this temptation today.

But she sees me first, and it’s too late to bolt. “Hey!” she calls. “I’m baking cupcakes…” Her voice carries, and I know by the playfulness to it that she’s drunk.

“You are?” I ask as I close the front door and head into the large kitchen.

“Yep. I got vanilla and strawberry.” She reaches her finger into the batter, and holds it out to me. “Try it.”

My mouth forms a crooked grin as I step closer. With my eyes on her, I close my mouth around her finger and lick it clean of the sweet mixture. She whimpers at me as I do.

Releasing her finger, I ask, “Where’s Hunter?”

“Upstairs,” she replies, her expression turning somber.

“Everything okay?”

She glances cautiously up at the stairs. Then in a low whisper, she replies, “We haven’t been talking much the past couple days.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugs in return. Then she gets back to work on the cupcakes, scooping them out onto the cooling rack.

“What are you drinking?” I ask with a smile. Her face contorts in confusion as she stares at me.

“Drinking?” Then a moment later, realization dawns, and she giggles. “Oh, no. I’m not drinking. I took an edible. It helps me relax.”

“Ah…” I reply. And then I swallow down the sudden wave of guilt that rises. I hate that she has to take anything to relax. I hate that I’m part of the reason she can’t relax in the first place.

“Want one?” she asks. “They’re not very strong. I’m just a lightweight.” She giggles again, and I smile wide as I watch her laugh to herself.

“No, thanks. I’m okay.”

“Okay,” she replies with another cute shrug.

Sitting on the barstool, I watch her bake. Every step is engrossing. Her nimble fingers measuring the ingredients, pouring them into the mixer, wiping the flour from her nose. It’s everything I wish the date with Geo had been. If that date had been half as satisfying as watching Isabel bake, I would be busy fucking his brains out right now. But by no fault of his own, there was nothing between us, nothing close to this.

When I hear footsteps behind me, I tense. Hunter enters the room and stands next to me, watching Isabel too.

“She’s high, isn’t she?”

I laugh. “Yep.”

“She only bakes when she’s high.”

“I am not high,” she argues with a blush. “I had one cotton candy gummy bear an hour ago. Geez.” Then, she flips on the mixer too high and the flour erupts from the bowl, covering her face. She bursts into laughter, suddenly unable to even breathe, and it’s so fucking infectious that now I’m laughing. And when I look over at Hunter, he’s grinning from ear to ear too, his shoulders shaking with his own amusement.

“Red, you’re a mess.”

Finally, she stops laughing and plants her hands against the counter. Glaring at Hunter with a slightly glossy stare and a wicked grin on her face, she reaches into the bowl and proceeds to fling a handful of flour at her husband.

He stands frozen, white powder covering his black button-up shirt, and we wait in anticipation for his reaction. Finally, his tongue peeks out from between his lips and licks up the bitter taste from his face. “Oh, you're a bad little girl. You better fucking run.”

I watch with a smile when Isabel shrieks, beaming as she takes off, bolting into a run from her side of the kitchen. He rounds the island to catch her, but even stoned, she’s too fast. They’re both covered in baking ingredients and laughing as they run circles around the island, both laughing and smiling.

This is what I missed. This is definitely something we would have done before the whole threesome complicated everything. Call it wishful thinking, but it feels like we can finally move on and get back to the way things were.

“Save me, Drake!” Isabel screams as she crouches behind me.

“Get behind me.” I laugh, but before I can stand and block her from the threat of Hunter holding a bottle of chocolate syrup, I’m assaulted by a handful of vanilla frosting to the face.

Isabel squeals in laughter as she wipes it all over me, from my chin up to my hair. I don’t know how I missed her grabbing that in her dash around the counter. I’m sitting here in shock, and when she tries to run away, I snatch her by the waist and drag her toward me.

“I was going to help you,” I say in an ominous tone. “But now you’re screwed.”

Once I have her against me, I pin both of her hands behind her back and hold her tight. “Get her,” I say to Hunter, who smiles wickedly as he douses her with chocolate. She’s laughing and fighting against my grip as he pours it all over her head and face.

“Here you go, Drake. I made you a sundae. Have a taste.” Hunter says these words in a playful tone. A moment ago, I thought things had finally gotten back to normal, but I can’t help myself. This is definitely not normal. All of her fidgeting and fighting against my body has my cock twitching in my pants, and I do want a taste. So I drag her closer and lick a long line along the side of her face, and as I do so, she slows her struggling.