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Robbie’s heart skipped a beat at the commanding tone as it washed over him. “Are you two crazy?” he whispered.
Or am I, for even considering telling them where I am?
“I assure you, we’re of very sound mind. Where are you, Robert?”
Robbie looked out at the crowded dance floor and knew what he was about to do would likely be the biggest mistake of his life. But that didn’t stop him from finally giving in.
“CRUSH.”
Chapter Three
CONFESSION
It’s hard to make good decisions when the bad ones look like Julien and Priest.
STOP WATCHING THE door, Robbie ordered himself thirty minutes later as he sat at the far end of the bar with his eyes glued to the entrance of the club.
Quit looking so damn desperate. This isn’t your first hookup. It sure felt like it, though, as he glanced nervously at his phone, expecting it to light up any second now with Priest telling him he’d just been dicking him around about meeting up.
God, Robbie wished Elliot hadn’t warned the bartender about the drinks, because he really could do with another shot to help him forget the fact that he was dumb enough to have told Priest where he was tonight.
It wasn’t fair. The jackass had used the one thing he knew Robbie couldn’t resist. The sound of Julien groaning in his ear and the promise of ridiculously hot sex.
Okay, yeah, he was drunk enough to admit that he was the queen of having bad ideas, and wanting Julien? That was a horrible idea. But he’d been lusting after him ever since he’d seen him on Chef Master, episode four, when Julien had told one of the other contestants to “suce ma queue,” which Robbie later Googled and found out meant “suck my dick.” He remembered that because he’d had several fantasies afterward involving giving Julien head in an industrial-sized kitchen full of stainless-steel appliances.
The problem was that in all of those little fantasies, it was just him and Julien “the Prick” Thornton. There was no goddamn Priest, and, well, Robbie wasn’t sure what to do about him, but he was positive it involved kicking and screaming of some kind, and not in a good way.
As he scanned the crowded dance floor, Robbie considered grabbing Elliot and making a beeline for the back door—until he spotted the two men who had just walked in the front entrance of CRUSH.
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
He hadn’t drunk nearly enough alcohol for this.
Tall like himself, Julien and Priest were immediately noticeable as they walked into the crowded club. But unlike Robbie, their mere presence caused what felt like a ripple in time as they stood on the perimeter of the dance floor, silently observing those around them.
It was just like it’d been the night of the Christmas party. When the two of them were together, they projected some kind of force field that made everyone else fade into the background and freeze. Or maybe that was the vodka? Robbie couldn’t be one hundred percent sure.
Julien looked as though he’d just left one of Paris’s Fashion Week runways. Dressed in charcoal pants, a fitted V-neck burgundy sweater, and a checkered scarf to match, he looked sharp, sexy, and totally overdressed for the bump and grind of the club scene. But no one cared because he was so damn mouthwatering to look at. Then there was Priest.
From his leather shoes to his tailored pants and turtleneck sweater, he was in all black, which made his hair look like a flame. And while Robbie knew Priest was the same height as Julien and himself, the commanding way Priest held himself made it appear as though he towered over all the other men around him.
Robbie fidgeted where he sat and felt his breathing increase, knowing that Priest was searching him out amongst the sea of sweaty men. It was in his serious eyes and the stern line of his mouth, as though he were in deep concentration, and when Priest finally spotted Robbie and that expression didn’t change, but deepened, Robbie’s leg began a nervous kind of jig.
He licked his lips that were suddenly dry, and that was when a guy with blue highlights, skinny jeans, and a mesh tank top infiltrated his little bubble, stopping beside the two men who’d just entered the club.
The guy aimed a flirtatious smile up at Julien, and Robbie felt his spine become rigid even though it was irrational and totally not his place. For a split second he had the intense desire to storm over to the presumptuous little twink and claw his eyes out. That was until Priest turned toward the blue dye job and shook his head, his mouth drawn tight in an unamused line, his message clear: no. And blue hair scampered off.
Oh shit. That kind of arrogance. That kind of…authority. It was so fucking sexy, and completely and utterly terrifying at the same time. Priest put his lips by Julien’s ear and started to speak, and then Julien looked out across the dance floor and finally locked eyes with Robbie.
