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Julien put his glass down and got to his feet. He hooked a finger under Robbie’s chin and tilted his head up. “Because he sees you, mon cher petit. He understands what you need from him. Didn’t I tell you so?” Julien straightened, winked at Robbie, and said, “Drink up and I’ll bring you another.”
No problem, Robbie thought as he drained the glass, and as he placed it on the table, he saw Priest walk out of the bedroom in a pair of loose black pants and not one other thing. Jesus, when he was like this, minus his suit, and prowling around like a tiger, Robbie found it difficult to look anywhere but at him just in case he pounced.
Robbie followed Priest’s path as he walked over to Julien, who was pouring sauce on the steaks, and when he stopped behind his husband, Priest kissed his cheek and Julien turned his head.
Words Robbie didn’t understand were exchanged, and then Priest picked up two plates and headed over. As Priest put one down in front of him, Robbie’s eyes travelled up his powerful body and he managed to say, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Priest walked to the head of the table, pulled his chair out, and sat as Julien returned with his plate and a new bottle of wine. Once they were all seated, Robbie glanced at the two men on either end of the table, and then held his glass out to Julien, who started to laugh.
Julien refilled Robbie’s glass and then raised his own. “Here’s to a night for the senses. Délectons-nous de nourriture, de vin, et de tous les plaisirs de la chair jusqu’à ce que nous soyons trop épuisés et rassasiés les uns des autres pour bouger.”
“Allow me to translate.” Priest leaned over toward Robbie, who caught the scent of the soap he’d used to clean that muscled chest earlier. “Let us enjoy the food, wine, and all the pleasures of the flesh until we are too tired and drunk on each other to move.”
Robbie looked between the two of them and shook his head. “Who could say no to that?”
The three clinked their glasses and Julien said, “Many, I’m sure. But as long as it’s not you, princesse, I find I don’t care.”
AN AIR OF anticipation settled between them after that. Eyes darted from one to the other. Lips were licked as they each ate their meal. But clearly they were all thinking about other things in their mouths, and Julien could sense the waves of excitement—tinged with nerves—rolling off Robbie as he studied the food on his plate with great concentration.
With his eyes fixated on his meal, it gave both Julien and Priest the opportunity to observe Robbie as much as they wanted, and it was clear he knew he was under scrutiny by the heat that tinged his face, chest, and neck—although that could also easily be the wine.
Taking pity on him, Julien decided to break the silence, because there was no way Priest would, and no matter how badly the two of them wanted Robbie, and he them, they weren’t going to get him—the real him—if he was a nervous wreck.
“How is your meal?” Julien asked, and Robbie glanced over at him as he chewed the mouthful he’d just popped between his lips. After he swallowed, Robbie grinned, and the expression reached his eyes.
“Wonderful. This is the best steak au poivre I’ve ever eaten.”
Julien chuckled, remembering their earlier conversation, and pointed his knife in Robbie’s direction. “Cheeky.”
Robbie blew him a kiss, clearly relaxing a little, and then cut off another piece of steak. “Why do you get to sit there fully dressed while the two of us have no shirt on?”
“Is that your way of telling me you want me to take off my shirt?” Julien asked.
“If it isn’t,” Priest said, “I’ll do it for you. Take off your shirt, Julien.”
Robbie looked at Priest, who took a sip of his wine, and when Julien pushed out from the table and stood, Robbie’s head whipped back around to him. “Oh, I like this game.”
Julien leaned down and kissed Robbie’s smiling lips. “Of course you do.”
“Julien,” Priest said, his voice soft but firm, telling Julien he wanted him to do as he was told.
Julien straightened, and with his eyes on his husband, he unbuttoned his shirt. As he shrugged out of it, Julien’s eyes shifted to Robbie, who’d stopped eating to watch, and once it was in his hand, he dropped it to the floor.
“Shit,” Robbie said, his eyes moving over Julien’s tattoos, and then he reached down to palm himself. “Priest said you might let me lick them if I ask nicely.”
“I just might…but not yet,” Julien said, and then winked as he retook his seat.
Robbie groaned in protest. “This is torture.”
“I promise you, it is not,” Priest said, and Robbie rolled his eyes.
