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That will never be a problem around you, Robbie thought, as Julien let him go.
“So, what would you like to drink?”
“Huh?” Robbie said, his brain still conjuring up images of French kissing and hard cocks.
“I asked what you’d like to drink.”
“Oh.” Robbie’s eyes went to the shelves of liquor as he tried to think about something other than the ache between his legs. And when he finally had himself under some kind of control, he looked back to Julien and said, “How about Sex on My Face?”
Julien reached for a glass and put it on the counter, and then grabbed a bottle of Malibu and whiskey. “You’re a shameless flirt.”
“As if you’re not. Plus, Priest told me not to lie.”
“That he did,” Julien said, and began to mix the drink.
Robbie watched his every move. Those long fingers, tight around the cocktail shaker. The muscles under his tight black tee, and those lips Robbie wanted to feel on every part of his body? Yeah, he was watching those too.
There was a reason Julien had become the celebrity he had beyond his cooking abilities. It was the overall package. French. Gorgeous. Flirtatious. Add in the fact he could cook like a boss, and both men and women had fallen in love with the temperamental chef.
Julien was sex personified with those full lips and harsh features, until he smiled and that dimple snuck out to play. And right now, he was pushing a drink across to Robbie with a smirk that promised he was in for one hell of a night.
As Robbie picked up his glass, Julien raised the one he’d made for himself, and then lifted his eyes up and over Robbie’s shoulder.
It wasn’t until Robbie turned around to see where Julien was looking that he noticed an upper level of sorts. It wasn’t a balcony. It wasn’t an open floor space. More a room with a view, and standing in that room, watching the two of them, was Priest. He had a glass of wine in his hand and a pensive look on his face, and when he crooked a finger at Robbie, Robbie’s cock got impossibly harder.
“May tonight bring many more opportunities for…sex on your face,” Julien said, and Robbie let out an inelegant snort and grinned as he raised his glass to his lips, because there was no way he wasn’t going to drink to that.
Chapter Eight
CONFESSION
No one ever says they want to have a smart sexual experience. No.
They want a hot, wild, oh-my-God-there-goes-my-brain sexual experience. That’s the only excuse I have for any of this—I’ve lost my mind.
AFTER PRIEST HAD left the other two in the Lounge, he had headed up to the skybox of JULIEN with his laptop and a bottle of Pinot, ready to sit and watch as Julien and Robbie became better acquainted with one another.
The perfect vantage point, the skybox had been the brainchild of Julien when they’d looked over the building. It was a private dining area on the upper level that seated up to four guests in the glass-encased space, and it offered a bird’s-eye view of the kitchen, the bar, and the main dining room.
It had originally been designed with the idea that this would be an exclusive table for guests wanting to come and see Julien in action down there in his domain. But at the last minute, Julien had made an executive decision: the skybox was to be theirs, a private table where the two of them could share a meal at any time, or where Priest could come and work at night if he chose to.
Not a bad deal at all. The top table, in what he knew would soon be one of the most talked about restaurants in the country? It didn’t get better than that—except, of course, when the owner and executive chef joined him, and perhaps brought something extra sweet along with.
Priest took a sip from his glass of wine and watched as Robbie pushed up off his barstool and leaned across the counter toward Julien, and he felt his cock react when his husband moved in until his lips almost touched Robbie’s. The two of them loved this dance, the will-he-or-won’t-he of it all, and Julien was such a good partner. No matter who he was dancing with.
The men down below exchanged conversation. A smile here. A laugh there. And then Priest saw one of Robbie’s hands move under the bar to press up against what Priest could only imagine was an erection as hard as the one he had.
That’s right, Priest thought, get used to it. Because being aroused around Julien was a natural state.
Julien knew exactly how to tease a person until they would do anything to be touched, kissed, or fucked, and Priest knew that he had Robbie at that point. Actually, Robbie looked as though he were a second away from climbing over the bar and scaling Julien like a tree—and Julien wouldn’t mind, not one little bit. As long as he knew Priest’s eyes were on him, and they most definitely were.
