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“I’m not surprised,” Priest said. “You had a lot to drink.”
No shit, Robbie thought, as he glared at Priest, trying to decide if what he saw in those eyes was judgment or amusement. Either way, it had him bristling like a cornered, wet cat, and when he peered down at himself, pulling the cover away an inch, he noticed he was only wearing his jeans. “Where’s my shirt?”
“Julien thought you’d be more comfortable without it. In case you got too hot.”
“Surrre he did,” Robbie said, his inner brat rising to the surface as his humiliation over having passed out was brought front and center. “Why not just strip me completely, then?”
“He tried. Your jeans were too tight.”
“Oh,” Robbie managed, and Priest’s dour expression made him want to slap it right off his face. “Where is he now?”
“Out in the kitchen.”
Overwhelmed by the fact that he was in a bedroom, half-naked, with a man who not only annoyed him every time he opened his mouth but also, for reasons unknown, made his body hyperaware, Robbie ran a nervous hand through his hair as he worried his lower lip with his teeth.
“He sent me in to wish you a good morning,” Priest said, and then added, “Don’t do that,” as he touched his index finger to Robbie’s lip again.
“Um…”
“Yes?”
Robbie was sure he was going to say something like Don’t tell me what to do or Get your hands off me. But instead his lips parted slightly under the weight of Priest’s finger and he said, “Good morning.”
Priest continued to stare, seemingly unaffected, until Robbie unconsciously licked his lip, his tongue touching that finger, and that was when it happened. The moment Robbie first saw it. The scorching heat and untamed lust that turned those cold grey eyes of Priest’s to that of melted steel.
“Good morning,” Priest replied, and Robbie thought it was a miracle his heart didn’t stop.
Wow. He’s, like, all kinds of intense, Robbie thought as he sat there paralyzed, waiting for Priest’s next move.
Priest rubbed his finger slowly back and forth over Robbie’s lip until it was slick, and then ran it down his chin until he dropped his hand by his side.
“Are you busy tonight?” Priest asked, and even if he had been, Robbie knew he would’ve cancelled.
He was man enough, horny enough, and, hell, stupid enough to admit that he wanted this. Priest, Julien, whatever this was. He fucking wanted it. Yes, he did. “No. It’s my night off.”
“Good. We want to take you to dinner.”
Hang on a second… “Dinner?”
“Yes. You are familiar with the practice of eating, I assume?”
“Well, yeah, but”—Robbie shrugged—“you don’t have to take me to dinner to—”
“Fuck you?”
Robbie knew Priest was trying to shock him, so instead of cowering, he angled his head up a notch and said, “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
Priest took hold of Robbie’s chin in a firm grip, bent his head, and whispered above his mouth, “It’s one of the things we want. And though we don’t have to, we want to take you to dinner.”
Robbie’s eyes dropped to Priest’s mouth. For the first time, he noticed how pink Priest’s lips were compared to the auburn stubble surrounding them, and was shocked to realize he wanted to taste them.
“Robert?”
Robbie’s eyes flew back to Priest’s, and he knew they must’ve screamed one thing—guilty.
“Will you come to dinner with us?”
Robbie swallowed and then nodded the best he could with Priest still holding his face.
“Good. There’s a bagel and coffee over on the tallboy. You should eat. Julien will give you something for the headache if you need it. I have to go to work.”
Priest released him, and Robbie was stunned by how bereft he felt from the loss of the touch, as he watched a man he never thought he’d be interested in straighten his suit and head to the bedroom door.
“I’ll see you tonight, Robert.”
It was only after Priest left that Robbie realized he hadn’t once corrected him on his name. But more perplexing was the fact that he kind of liked the way “Robert” sounded when Joel Priestley called him that.
“THERE, HAPPY? I wished him a good morning.”
Julien turned from the sink and slung a dishtowel over his shoulder, as Priest walked across their living room. He’d buttoned up his suit jacket, but beyond that, it didn’t appear that Robbie had thrown anything at his head. In Julien’s book, that was a success.
“I’m very happy. Positively bursting with joy,” Julien said, as Priest reached around him for his cell phone and then slipped it in his pocket. “And isn’t that what you want? A happy wife means a happy…night.”
“I don’t believe that’s how that saying goes. In any case, my night should be extraordinary after this.”
“Oh? Do tell me more.”
“You have the night off,” Priest said. “We’re all going out to dinner.”
