JULIEN SETTLED BACK into the couch and propped one of his ankles up on his knee. Robbie was perched on the edge of his seat, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he waited for them to tell him more.

“Do you want to tell him? Or should I, mon beau voleur de coeurs?” Priest asked as he glanced at Julien, a smirk curving those usually stern lips.

“I’m going to need to learn French around you two, aren’t I?” Robbie said.

“That implies you plan to be around. Is that so?” Priest asked, and Robbie shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’m still deciding. Anyway, what does it mean?” Robbie asked Julien. “Mon beau voleur de coeurs…?”

Julien smiled at Robbie’s attempt. “My beautiful thief of hearts,” he said, as Priest’s fingers trailed along the back of his shoulder.

“So you were actually telling the truth last night about being a thief?” Robbie laughed. “No way.”

“In a manner of speaking,” Julien said. “But the day we met I was more a thief of—”

“Vehicles?” Priest deadpanned, and Julien turned to look into Priest’s eyes, recalling the exact moment fate had brought him into this man’s path and forever changed his destiny.

“That would be right, mon amour,” Julien said. “But it all turned out in the end, did it not?”

“COME BACK HERE, you French fucker!”

The loud shout of a pissed-off male came out of the fourth-story window of the block of apartments Julien had spent the day naked in. With his jeans barely hanging onto his hips, and his open shirt flapping in the sweltering afternoon breeze only L.A. could bring, Julien paused where he was on the fire escape with his hands wrapped around the metal rungs.

Merde, he thought, as he looked at the ground below. Was it really so much to ask of the person he was fucking to disclose whether they had a significant other who may come home midway through said fucking?

It wasn’t like it was a prerequisite that one had to be single for him to look twice. With the amount of alcohol in his system at any given hour, he really didn’t care all that much. But a little heads-up if he was going to be chased down a fucking alley would be nice, instead of when he was hanging from a fire escape with his jeans falling off his ass.

The balcony doors he’d fled from seconds ago crashed open, and Lorenzo—the one who’d burst the bubble on this little afternoon tête-à-tête—leaned over the side railing waving a baseball bat.

“You like a good fucking, do you? Then I got something for you, asshole. You won’t be able to sit for a week.”

Okay, so, non. Julien much preferred things the other way around, and that was what finally kicked his ass in gear and had his legs moving again for the rungs under them. When he finally reached the bottom of the escape, he dangled a couple of feet above the ground, aimed his eyes up at the bulky man barreling down after him, and let go.

His bare feet landed on the pavement, and he cursed as something sharp dug into the sole of his right foot. He hopped around for a second, the alcohol from earlier in the day having faded enough that pain was actually something he could feel, and when he heard the groan of the metal stairs on the second story, he winced and started to make a run for it down the alley.

He passed by several side streets, his blurry eyes doing a quick sweep looking for some means of escape, and as he finally ran down one and then into another, he rounded a corner and spotted a sporty little number midway down and took off toward it at a fast clip.

As his feet slapped against the ground, he wondered how this was all going to end. In all honesty, Julien deserved the beat-down Lorenzo wanted to give him. Not only because he’d been caught fucking the guy’s boyfriend…fiancé…husband—whatever. But for everything that had led up to this very moment where he was three sheets to the wind on a Monday afternoon after spending a night—hell, the last five months of nights—drinking and fucking his way through the darkest hours, trying to drown out the one thing he couldn’t escape.

When he reached the shiny roadster, Julien looked around for something to pry open the door, to slip down the side of the window… Hell, at this stage, he’d settle for something to smash open the window, and when he found nothing, he decided to just try the door on the off chance that something in his fucking life would go right. But as he reached for the handle, he heard someone clear his or her throat behind him.

Julien froze and shut his eyes, figuring he’d rather not see a bat swinging at his head in the mirrored reflection.

“Excuse me? Can I help you?”

“WAIT A MINUTE,” Robbie interrupted, putting a hand up. His eyes were round as saucers, and his mouth was flapping open and shut like a fish out of water. “You’re telling me that you had someone’s crazy-ass boyfriend chasing you down an alley with a baseball bat? You?”

“Oui,” Julien said, as Robbie sat back on the couch and went to tuck his feet up. But then he remembered where he was and put them back down. “Sorry, habit.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Julien said. “You can get comfortable. We want you comfortable.”

Robbie looked between Julien and Priest, and then the most beautiful smile curved his lips. It was sweet and innocent, almost shy, as he tucked his feet up and said, “Okay, so, crazy boyfriend—”

“Someone’s very angry crazy boyfriend, one should note,” Priest said.

“That’s so scandalous. I love it.” Robbie clapped his hands.

Priest shook his head. “Of course you do.”

“Duh. If I didn’t like scandal, I wouldn’t be sitting in your living room, would I?”

“Fair point.”

Robbie turned back to Julien. “Okay, continue. I bet you wished you had that baseball bat when you got to the car, right? To smash in a window?”

“I’m glad he didn’t,” Priest said.

Robbie waved a dismissive hand at him. “I didn’t ask you.”

Julien laughed at the two of them and then nodded. “I did wish that,” he said as he looked over to Priest, who tilted his head to the side. “But instead, the good Lord took pity on me and sent me something I needed much more than a bat. He sent me a Priest.”

“EXCUSE ME? Can I help you?”

Julien glanced over his shoulder to see a man the same height as him with a shock of auburn hair standing by the car in a suit and tie. He had a briefcase in one hand and a set of keys in the other, and when Julien realized he was staring at the owner of the vehicle, he nodded.

“Oui, merci mon Dieu. I—”

“Were you trying to steal my car?” The man’s voice was clipped, blunt, and so damn proper that Julien automatically reached for either side of his shirt and pulled it across his body, suddenly feeling underdressed and under scrutiny.

“I…” Julien peered around the man’s broad shoulders to make sure Lorenzo hadn’t found which of the side streets he’d woven his way down.

“I asked you a question,” the man said, snapping Julien’s attention back to his. “Were you trying to steal my car?”

Julien looked at the expensive import beside him and nodded. “Oui, but I have a good reason.” At least, he thought it was. “You see, I’m trying to—”

“Save it,” the man said, and hit the key fob, making the headlights flash and the locks disengage. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. I’m calling the police, so you better stay put.”

He pulled open the door and put his briefcase in the back seat, and Julien knew he needed to make a run for it. The last thing he needed was for the police to pick him up and charge him, only to then have to call his bigwig lawyer father to come and bail his ass out. Although the worst part of that scenario wasn’t that he’d be charged, but the fact that his father likely wouldn’t show. He’d probably leave Julien to rot in a cell, and who could blame him? Julien’s parents had all but wiped him from their lives as of five months ago, and now here he was, trying his hardest to make it permanent.

In a stupid move, brought on by sheer desperation, Julien turned and was about to book it out of the alley. But before he even got two feet away, a firm hand clamped around his arm.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Look, monsieur. You don’t understand.”

“I said”—the owner of the vehicle spun Julien around and muscled him back against the side of it—“stay. Put.”

Baise-moi, Julien thought, as the panic in his brain suddenly vanished, and he found himself staring into the most arresting and determined set of eyes he’d ever seen. Grey, like the ominous clouds of a thunderstorm. They were turbulent, intense, and vibrating with energy, and Julien felt his traitorous body respond. The man was as commanding as a god right then, and frighteningly attractive in his poise.

“What’s your name?” the man asked, and though Julien wasn’t the type to obey orders from anyone, he heard himself say, “Julien Thornton.”

They stood there for a second—no, a minute—hell, it could’ve been an hour for all Julien knew with the way his brain was spinning.

“Do you make it a habit to run up side streets half-dressed, stealing cars?”

Finally regaining his wits, Julien shook his head. “Non, but you don’t understand. There’s this—”

“I don’t care one way or another,” the man interrupted. “But there’s no way I’m going to let some thief run off so he can hotwire some other unsuspecting bystander’s car.”

Okay, attractive or not, this guy needed to get out of the way or they were both going to be in a lot of trouble. “Let me go,” Julien said, knowing that any minute now, Lorenzo could come running around that corner with a bat in hand.

“Not going to happen.”

Julien cursed under his breath, and then tugged on his arm, trying to pull free. “Laisse-moi partir espèce de crétin, ou ta bagnole et moi, on va se faire tabasser."

“French, yes?”

“Oui.”

“I imagine nothing you said just then was very nice.”

“Look, I promise not to steal anyone else’s car if you let me go.”

“No.”

Julien glared at him and tried to straighten off the car, and when his thigh brushed up against the man’s front and he felt what he knew was a solid erection, Julien’s eyes shifted down to the man’s dress slacks and he felt his breath catch.

So, he hadn’t imagined the electricity between them seconds ago.

“Let me go,” Julien said, and noticed the man’s lips tilt slightly at the side.

“No. I told you, I’m calling the police.”

Julien bit back his growl of frustration at the obstinate ass and decided to just go with the fucking truth. “There’s a guy chasing me and he could come around that corner at any minute. You don’t want that.”

“Chasing you?” the man said, and lowered his eyes down Julien’s front. “Are you hurt?”

“Non, non. I’m not hurt, but if he finds me, I will be.”

The man looked over his shoulder as if trying to decide whether Julien was lying. “Why is he chasing you? Did he attack you? You can tell me. I’m a lawyer. I can take you somewhere safe. Somewhere you can get help.”

Oh shit. A lawyer? That’s why he has a fancy car and briefcase. Of course I had to pick a lawyer’s car. That’s almost as bad as picking a cop’s car.

“Non. Nothing like that. He’s, uh…he’s angry at me.”

“Why?”

“None of your business,” Julien said before he thought better of it. Habit, he supposed, from all his father’s interrogations.

“Since it’s my car you were trying to steal to make your grand getaway, I beg to differ.”

Julien went to pull his arm free, and the man’s lips curved as his eyes did another once-over.

“How about I guess, then? Your pants are halfway falling off, your shirt is undone, you have no shoes, and there’s a bruise on your neck the size of a quarter. So unless you were ravaged by a vampire and are fleeing for your life…my guess is you were caught having some torrid affair on this fine afternoon.”

Julien’s nostrils flared, and heat infused his cheeks. Who the fuck is this guy? “Look, I’m just trying to save your car. If he finds me, he’s going to smash this thing to shit, and probably me soon after that.”

“So you wanting me to let you go is actually a gallant move? I don’t think so.”

“I’m not lying.” Again Julien’s eyes darted over the man’s shoulder. “But if it makes you feel better, why don’t you just drive me to the police station? That way you kill two birds with one stone.” The man’s eyebrow arched, and Julien’s pulse thumped at the arrogant expression. “Just get us the fuck out of here.”

“Very well,” the man said, and with a rough pull on Julien’s arm, he led him around the front of his car to the passenger door. He opened it and said, “After you.”

Julien climbed into the passenger seat, and once he was in, the man slammed the door shut and hit a button engaging the locks until he came around to his side and got in. Once he was behind the steering wheel, he started the engine and then glanced in the rearview mirror—then he did a double take.

“Motherfucker,” he said, and Julien whipped around in his seat to look out the back window. There, at the far end of the street, a looming figure stepped into view, a baseball bat raised in his right hand.

Julien brought his eyes back to the man in the driver’s seat, and the grey eyes boring into his suddenly sparked to life. The attraction Julien had felt outside ignited as the man reached for the gear stick and threw the car into drive before he punched the gas.

Julien was slammed back into his seat, and before he could help it, a laugh escaped him as the car shot off down the street, Lorenzo getting smaller and smaller in the side mirror as Julien’s mystery captor/savior hurtled them out into oncoming traffic that had horns blasting and Julien reaching for the bar overhead.

His heart was in his throat, his fingers were white-knuckling the oh shit bar, and his eyes flew to the surprisingly in-control driver, as Julien’s adrenaline hit an all-time high.

Who is this man? he asked himself again. He had no idea. But he was unlike any lawyer Julien had ever met before. No, this man was so much more, and Julien didn’t even care right then that he was being driven to a police station. All he hoped was that the stranger beside him took them the long way, because he wasn’t ready to be out of this man’s presence. Not now…maybe not ever.

“YOU SAVED HIM,” Robbie said, his eyes shifting from Julien to Priest. “You totally saved him.”

Julien noticed Robbie was looking at Priest with a newfound expression on his face—awe—and he couldn’t blame him. There was no one Julien admired more than the man sitting beside him.

“Oui,” Julien said. “He did save me.”

“Wow,” Robbie said, flopping back in his seat. “That’s amazing, and insane.”

“It was kind of crazy,” Julien agreed, and settled back into the crook formed by Priest’s arm. Priest eyed him, and Julien knew he was thinking about everything that had come after, but now wasn’t the time to revisit that.

Priest offered a small smile. “He was trouble from the second I laid eyes on him.”

Julien slicked his tongue across his lower lip. “Seems we have a thing for trouble,” he said, and then they both turned their eyes back to Robbie.

“I’m not trouble,” Robbie said, and then a soft yawn had him covering his mouth, the night obviously catching up with him.

“You are all kinds of trouble, Robert Bianchi.” Priest got to his feet and walked around the coffee table. “Would you like us to drive you home?”

Robbie’s eyes found Julien’s, and when he offered a lazy smile to the young man, Robbie looked back up to Priest. “But we haven’t talked yet. You know, about…” He gestured to Julien with his hand, and then to Priest, who took it in his and tugged on it, urging Robbie to his feet.

Once he was there, Priest put his index finger under Robbie’s chin and asked again, “Would you like us to drive you home?”

Julien saw Robbie’s Adam’s apple bob as he stared at Priest, and then he heard Robbie whisper, “No.”

Julien got to his feet and walked around the coffee table behind Robbie. He ran his fingers down his arm to his hand. “Then come with me.”

As Robbie turned toward him, Priest said behind them, “I’ll be in in a minute.”

Julien nodded to his husband, and as he led Robbie around the couch and toward their room, he heard Priest stacking the plates and taking them to the kitchen, and thought, not for the first time, that he couldn’t have picked a better car to steal eight years earlier.

* * *

PRIEST CLEARED AWAY the coffee table to give himself a few minutes alone to relax his brain and body. Tonight had been eye-opening in ways he hadn’t expected, including this past hour or so. Sitting in his and Julien’s condo talking with Robbie had felt so natural, so comfortable, that he’d almost forgotten why Robbie was there in the first place, and that only confirmed what they’d thought all along—Robbie was exactly who they’d been looking for.

From the restaurant, to sharing a meal and a story, to now, when he’d stood between them and said he wanted to stay the night, it had all felt so right, and Priest had to remind himself that no, Robbie wasn’t all in yet. And no, Priest wasn’t allowed to take—not yet.

But seeing Robbie down on his knees for Julien, and then later when he ate his meal—Priest took in a deep breath and leaned up against the fridge, then let it out—that had been something to behold.

Priest could feel Julien’s desire for this union to happen almost as strongly as he could sense his own, and he understood why. The two of them housed so many dark places inside themselves, secrets and pain that they shared only with each other, and Robbie was such a burst of sunshine in comparison. He was young, radiant, and exuded the warmth Julien craved, and the need of guidance and direction that Priest wanted to give. But it was a lot to ask—they were a lot to accept, even without all the baggage that came with them—and Priest knew they had to tread carefully here.

He hit start on the dishwasher then headed across to the bedroom, where Julien had switched on his bedside lamp and stood at the end of their bed with Robbie.

Priest watched the two for a moment as Julien ran a finger down Robbie’s cheek, and when Robbie angled his head toward the touch, Priest wondered what the young man was thinking.

Priest had never been one to need the comfort of another’s embrace, having learned from an early age how to survive on his own even after going to live with his grandmother, whereas Julien was the exact opposite. He’d had the kind of childhood fairy tales were written about—until one night, eight years ago.

Priest pushed the thought aside for now and walked into the bedroom, and when he stopped behind Robbie, he jolted at the new presence now at his back.

“Shh…” Julien whispered into the quiet room. “Nothing is going to happen tonight but sleep.”

“Okay,” Robbie said, looking at Julien, and Priest inhaled and caught the delicious scent of Robbie’s shampoo and soap.

“Lift your arms for me, Robert,” Priest said, and Robbie automatically raised them above his head.

Priest fingered the sides of his cream sweater and then tugged it up and off his body, and when Robbie was free of it, his arms moved back down to his sides and Julien said, “Pants on or…”

“Off,” Robbie whispered, and Priest trailed his fingers around to the button and flicked it open.

Julien’s hands joined Priest’s then, and Robbie, surprisingly, leaned back against Priest and moaned.

“God,” Robbie said. “I can’t believe this is really happening.”

Julien shoved the pants off his hips, leaving Robbie standing in his briefs, and Priest said by his ear, “Go with Julien.”

Julien held his hand out to Robbie, and as he led him around to his side of the bed, he flicked back the covers and Robbie climbed onto the mattress under the sheets, his eyes fastened on Julien, who was now stripping down.

Priest watched also as Julien removed every stitch of clothing, and when his shirt came off, Robbie’s hips shifted up under the sheets, and Priest knew his hands were in his briefs—and he didn’t blame Robbie in the slightest.

“You like his tattoos,” Priest said.

Robbie turned his head on the pillow to look over at Priest, as Julien wandered off into the bathroom.

Robbie laughed and nodded. “Yeah. Especially the Amorè. That’s my language. Plus, they look even hotter in person than they do online.”

Yes, they do, Priest thought. “Maybe if you ask him nicely, he’ll let you lick them one day.”

When Robbie bit his bottom lip and his hand moved under the sheet, Priest took his own shirt off, and Robbie’s eyes widened.

After Priest tossed it on the floor, he reached for the button of his pants, and Robbie said, “Okay, your suits do not even hint at all those muscles under them.”

Julien walked out of the bathroom, not in the least bit bothered by his nudity, and gave Priest a leisurely once-over. “Impressive, isn’t he?”

“Uh…” As Robbie tried to locate his tongue, Julien climbed into bed, and when that hand under the sheet started to move again, Priest decided it would be best to leave his briefs on.

He walked around to his side of the California king, and when he pulled the covers back and climbed in on the other side of Robbie, Julien switched off the lamp.

“Oh shit,” Robbie said.

Priest let out a low chuckle as he settled in and pulled the covers up. “Sleep, Robert, you’re tired.”

“But—”

“Robert?” Priest interrupted.

“Yes?”

“Close your eyes, roll over, and sleep.”

“But you’re both, like, right there, and Julien… He’s completely naked.”

Julien’s sensual laugh filled the room, and Priest slid a hand under his pillow and said, “Then I suggest you don’t turn your back on him. Good night, Robert.”

“Bonne nuit, princesse.”

Robbie shifted until his back was facing Priest, which made him smile into the dark—because who ever thought that Robbie would trust him when lying down in a bed—and then Robbie softly said, “Good night.”

Not ten minutes later, the soft sounds of those in deep slumber met Priest’s ears, and he felt his breathing calm as he waited for sleep to claim him, even though he knew the peace it brought wouldn’t last long.