I’M DOING THIS. I’m doing this. I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this, Robbie thought. But as he weaved his way through the dancers on the floor, his mission was clear: find Elliot.

He could feel Julien’s eyes on his ass as he went, so Robbie made sure to add an extra swing to his hips, and every now and then, when people shifted a certain way, the lights flashed up and he caught sight of Priest standing where he’d been since entering the club. His eyes fastened on Robbie like some sort of tractor beam.

God, it was a rush to be caught in the middle of them. It was a place Robbie knew he’d enjoy a whole damn lot if he could get rid of the niggling voice in the back of his head, and the final drink should help with that. Not to mention give him the extra dose of courage he needed for the sheet-gripping sex he knew these two would deliver.

From the moment Priest had picked up the phone tonight, Robbie had been hard, and when Julien had flat-out told him that they wanted him—Robbie Bianchi—naked in between them? Forget it. No gay man alive could resist that offer. Priest might be an insufferable ass, but his mere presence made all kinds of fantasies run riot. Oh, and he came with one hot-as-fuck husband.

As the music switched to a beat with a pulsating throb, the vibe on the floor changed and couples began to bump and grind against one another, as though the flimsy scraps of material most of them wore weren’t there at all.

Robbie spotted Elliot draped all over a buffed-up blond in faded jeans and a black tank, and he tapped his friend on the shoulder to get his attention. Elliot held his finger up to his partner and looked over his shoulder at Robbie with a stunned expression, clearly not expecting his friend to have strayed from the bar.

“You okay?” Elliot shouted over the music, and Robbie nodded.

“Yeah, but I met someone.” Or two someones.

“Yeah? Look at that. I leave you alone for—”

“Thirty minutes, asshole.”

“Yesss, and you ended up hooking up. What’d I tell you? You look totally cute tonight.” Elliot looked over Robbie’s shoulder. “All right, who is it?”

“Burgundy sweater at the bar,” Robbie said, and Elliot spotted him immediately.

“Wait a minute.” Letting go of his dance partner’s arm, Elliot grabbed Robbie and pulled him aside. “Is that who I think it is?”

“I don’t know,” Robbie said, knowing it was exactly who Elliot thought it was. “Who do you think it is?”

“Uh, Julien ‘the Prick’ Thornton. Only one of your biggest crushes ever. Why is he here? Did he just show up? Oh my God. Do you know him?”

Robbie glanced around, making sure no one else had heard. “It’s a long story. But yeah, kind of. I’m gonna be with him tonight. Okay?”

“Okay? That guy is on the men-we-all-want-to-fuck list. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to get in your way. He’s a total ten.”

Try a twenty when he opens his mouth.

“Give me a call if you need anything, or to just, you know, leave a speaker on so we can all enjoy your good fucking fortune.” Elliot looked over at the bar again. “You are going to fuck him, right? Not cry on his shoulder about all the married men you’ll never have.”

Uh… When Robbie said nothing in response, Elliot said in his ear, “Bitch, if you don’t ride that Prick into the early hours of tomorrow morning, I’m going to kick your ass, and I’m pretty sure you’d rather it hurt from something other than that.”

Robbie laughed, and as his eyes shifted to the blond waiting on his stolen dance partner, he gave a flirty little wave. “I think your dance partner’s getting jealous. That’s cute.”

“Bianchi,” Elliot said, grabbing Robbie’s arm. “Go and have fun. That’s an order.”

Sheesh. Why did everyone think it was okay to boss him around tonight? But as he walked off, Robbie heard Elliot call out, “Make sure you do all the things that I’d do.” And somehow, Robbie was fairly certain that Julien and Priest wanted to do things Elliot had never thought about, and suddenly that sounded like the best bad idea of all.

* * *

AROUND THIRTY MINUTES after they’d arrived at CRUSH, Priest exited the club and headed back to their Range Rover, where he now sat with his eyes on the rearview mirror as Julien and Robbie stepped outside into the cold night.

Stepped out was a rather loose term for the way Robbie stumbled over his feet and then started to laugh uproariously. But that was one of the reasons they were there tonight, wasn’t it? To make sure the inebriated Mr. Bianchi got home safely. And he was most definitely inebriated.

Priest watched the two men as Julien held a hand out in front of Robbie to stop him at the curb when a car drove by, and then they crossed over and headed toward the black SUV idling down the side street waiting for them. It was interesting, and arousing, to see the two of them side by side, and something that Priest had wanted for a while now.

Robbie had an arm slipped through Julien’s for support, and his eyes were zeroed in on the car they were headed toward as though it were a grenade. It was obvious that he was aware of who waited inside it for them, and it pleased Priest that the feisty firecracker was somewhat wary of him. The possibilities of why Robbie felt that way excited Priest, and the idea of exploring that made him hard as a fucking rock.

He looked at the time on the dashboard—it was just closing in on midnight—and wondered if Robbie had work tomorrow or not. Priest was thinking not, judging by the state he seemed to be in.

As the passenger door opened and the interior light spilled over him, Robbie peered up into the car and said, “I just want to be clear that I’m only here because Julien said you had an Almond Joy stashed somewhere in this car.”

Priest’s eyes cut to Julien’s. “What? Your charm wasn’t enough? You had to resort to the promise of candy?”

Julien rubbed his hands together and blew on them, warding off the cold. “It wasn’t my charm that was the problem. Plus, you said it was too soon to offer my body so, alas, candy was all I had to go with.”

Priest shook his head when Julien winked at him, and then he said to Robbie, “Why don’t you get in?”

Robbie’s glassy eyes ping-ponged between them, and then he pointed to the back seat. “I’d rather sit back there, thanks.”

“You might,” Priest said. “But I’d prefer you up here where I can keep an eye on you. Plus, Julien likes to take his turn in the back more often than not.”

* * *

HE DID NOT just say that, Robbie thought, as he stared up at Priest, apparently rendered mute from what he’d just heard.

“Get in, Robert,” Priest said. “Before you freeze to death.”

Robbie found he had just the right amount of liquid courage in him to take hold of the oh shit bar and haul himself up into the front seat. When the door shut behind him and he found himself locked in the small confines with Priest, Robbie smoothed his hands down his jeans and tapped his thumb on his thigh.

He looked around the car, anywhere but at Priest, who just sat there watching him, until finally Robbie blew out a breath and said, “Are you going to talk or just sit there?”

“Just sit here.”

Robbie rolled his eyes and slumped back in the seat. “You’re so weird.” When silence was all that met him, Robbie turned his head on the headrest and looked at Priest. “You’re really just going to sit there?”

“I’m not just sitting here.”

“Looks like it to me.”

“Then you’re not looking close enough.”

“Okay I’ll bite,” Robbie said, and angled his body toward Priest.

“I’ll have to remember that when you’re not drunk. Julien likes a little bit of pain with his pleasure.”

When Robbie realized what he’d said, his face flamed and he saw the side of Priest’s lips twitch. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I know, but now you’re blushing, and I like that.”

Completely thrown by the compliment, Robbie touched his fingers to his cheek and said, “Really?”

But before Priest could answer, the passenger door behind him opened and Julien climbed inside.

“Merde. This cold weather? I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it.”

As Priest buckled his seatbelt, Robbie dragged his eyes away from him and did the same, then he looked back to where Julien was rubbing his hands together and said, “You won’t. I’ve lived here my whole life and I’m still not used to it.”

“Non?”

“No. You just get really good at layering,” Robbie said as he unwound his scarf. “It’s also a great excuse to buy as many clothes as you can get your hands on. Layers, layers, and more layers, darling.”

When Priest just shook his head, Robbie slid his eyes in their driver’s direction.

“Don’t even pretend like you don’t think about what you wear, Mr. Priestley. That outfit molds to your body like it was designed with you in mind.”

“So nice of you to notice,” Priest said. “Look at us being so cordial to one another. I believe that was an actual compliment.”

Robbie scrunched up his nose and looked back to Julien. “Does he always talk like this?”

“And how’s that, princesse?”

“Like he’s from another planet.”

Julien chuckled, and Robbie saw him raise his eyes to the rearview mirror where Priest was looking. “He just might be.”

“Are you two quite done?” Priest asked. “It’s rude to talk about someone as if they’re not there.”

Robbie started laughing. “Yeah, definitely another planet. Or at least another time.” And because the alcohol was making him more comfortable than he usually would’ve been, Robbie said in his best Priest imitation, “Stop misbehaving, the both of you. Or I’ll send you to your room.”

“Close,” Priest said. “But that wouldn’t be my first choice of punishment.”

“Mine either,” Robbie said, and then he batted his lashes at Priest, the devil in him wanting to come out and play tonight. “But a firm hand can usually keep me in line.”

Julien’s laughter from the back seat had Robbie whipping around to see him shaking his head. “You’re either very brave, mon cher petit, or more drunk than I suspected.”

Robbie merely grinned and leaned his side into the soft leather of the seat, liking the smooth feel of it against his face. He was aware that Priest hadn’t responded to him. In fact, Priest’s jaw was clenched tight as he reached out and turned the stereo on, clearly ready to drown Robbie out.

“Aww, I’m sorry,” Robbie said, and put his hands together under his cheek. “I didn’t hurt your feelings, did I?”

As Priest put the car in drive, he said, “What do you think?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure you even have feelings.”

As Priest drove toward the end of the street, Julien said, “Trust me. He feels many things. And I’m pretty sure he’s feeling some of them right now.”

Robbie looked at Julien, who was back to eyeing his husband in the mirror, and the heat in his eyes made it clear that whatever feeling Julien was referring to, it was a damn good one.

It wasn’t until the car came to a stop at an intersection that Robbie heard what was playing over the speakers, and when he did, he said, “Frank Sinatra? Okay. Are you for real right now?”

Priest flicked on his indicator, and even though he wasn’t looking at him, Robbie saw one of his eyebrows arch from the reflection of the lights.

“Let me guess,” Priest said. “You have a problem with Frank Sinatra.”

“Well, no. Hello, I’m Italian-American,” Robbie said. “My family would disown me if I had a problem with Ol’ Blue Eyes. But again, how old are you? My nonna listens to this guy.”

Priest’s hands tightened around the steering wheel, and Robbie was somewhat pleased with himself for finally getting some kind of reaction from the man other than his granitelike expression.

“And what would you choose to listen to if you could?”

Robbie straightened in his seat, and his eyes widened with excitement as he leaned forward, about to press one of the buttons on the radio. But at the last second, something made him stop and turn to Priest, seeking his permission.

I mean, it is his car. I should at least ask before I commandeer the radio. Right?

“Can I?” Robbie asked, and when a smile slowly stretched across Priest’s lips, Robbie found himself frozen in place.

Damn. When Priest smiled it was… OMG. He looked like an entirely different man, an extremely hot one at that.

“You may,” Priest said, then his expression returned to his natural stern one, and Robbie’s eyes flicked to Julien, who smirked, and suddenly Robbie’s jeans felt much tighter than they had five seconds ago.

“The radio?” Priest said, drawing Robbie’s heightened attention back to him.

“Oh, right.” Robbie pressed a button, and when a familiar tune hit his ears, he whooped. “Hell yes! I love this song.” He then turned the volume up, looked at Priest, and belted out the first lines of “We Built This City” in the most heartfelt rendition he could muster.

Ah ha ha! Look at him. Robbie almost started laughing at the stupefied expression now etched into the lines of Priest’s face. But instead, he pulled out all the moves from his and his sisters’ epic lip sync battles and started dancing around in his seat like a fool. Making sure to include a variety of hand gestures, head tilts, and full-on diva attitude, Robbie pointed back to Julien to join in, and found him laughing at his antics. Robbie then leaned across the console and placed a hand on Priest’s arm, before he turned all dramatic and leaned against his bicep, looking up at Priest from under his lashes for the chorus as he sang into a nonexistent microphone.

God, who doesn’t love Starship?

When it was all over and the song changed to one much less exciting, Robbie turned the volume down, shut his eyes, and flopped back in his seat.

“I assume you like that song?” Priest was so earnest that Robbie couldn’t help the smile he knew crossed his mouth. The guy really was fucking weird.

“Yeah. Doesn’t everyone?” Robbie said, opening his eyes, and when the dash lights started to turn a hazy shade of blue and Priest’s head morphed into two, Robbie blinked. Exhaustion was starting to make his head spin now, along with the alcohol.

Then he heard Julien say, “Bravo, princesse. Bravo.”

Robbie said, “Merci,” as he waved his hand, and that was the last thing he remembered before he shut his eyes and promptly passed out.