“IS HE STILL asleep?” Priest asked the next morning, as he walked into the kitchen, where Julien sat at the breakfast island in his black yoga pants and white tank. He had a freshly pressed glass of his green juice in front of him, and a relaxed expression on his handsome face. But then again, thirty minutes of meditation and yoga each morning would do that to a person.

“Like the dead,” Julien said, and Priest kissed him once, twice, and then a third time, because he never could resist that mouth. “I haven’t heard a peep out of him since his impromptu performance last night.”

Priest walked over to the freshly brewed coffee and poured himself a mug. “He’s going to have a horrible headache today. He shouldn’t drink that much.” When he turned back to the island, he saw a sly smile on Julien’s mouth and said, “Do you disagree?”

“Non. But there’s usually a reason one gets so…”

“Drunk?”

“Oui. I think something’s bothering him.”

“Such as?” Priest said, and reached for the milk and sugar on the counter.

“I’m not sure yet, but something sent him to that bar last night. Probably the same thing that made him finally call me. So it might be better if you don’t tell him he drinks too much as soon as he wakes up.”

“Why? It’s the truth.” Priest stirred the contents of his mug and took a sip.

“It is, but he was actually warming up to you last night. Why ruin that?”

Priest lowered his coffee to the counter, grabbed one of the bagels from the breadbasket, and put it in the toaster. “Fair enough. I won’t tell him not to drink so much. But you must admit, he was—”

“Adorable?” Julien said with raised brows.

“Not the word I was thinking of.”

“Cheeky? Incorrigible? How about sexy? Because that young man is…lovely.”

Priest rubbed a hand over his face. “How about frustrating?”

Julien slipped off his stool and walked around to where Priest stood. “He’s going to be fun.”

“You say that like you know the outcome of this, when really we know no more than we did last night.”

Julien ran a finger down Priest’s tie. “You’re right. But what I do know is that he’s in that room over there, and I think you should take him a cup of coffee and wish him a good morning.”

Priest glanced at his watch. “I don’t have—”

“Joel.”

Priest looked up at the firm tone with which Julien said his name, and the serious glint in his husband’s usually carefree eyes had him giving a clipped nod. “Fine.”

The bagels popped up, and Priest smeared them with cream cheese before putting them on a plate, and as he did, Julien filled a mug and held it out to him. “Go and wish him a good morning, Mr. Priestley. This is, after all, the moment we’ve been waiting for.”

Priest leaned down and kissed Julien’s cheek. “I’m only doing this for one reason.”

As he crossed the living room, he heard Julien say, “Now who’s lying to himself? Remember, mon amour. Be nice.” When Priest glanced over his shoulder, Julien added, “Well, as nice as you can be.”

* * *

THE FAR-OFF sound of alarm chimes got progressively louder inside Robbie’s skull until the incessant noise had him rubbing at the side of his head in an attempt to make it stop.

Ugh, he felt terrible. But that was what one got when they decided to drink their loneliness away, he supposed. He cracked open an eye to reach for his phone and turn off the horrid sound, and when he swung his arm out where his bedside table usually was, he was stunned that his hand fell down on—nothing.

What the hell?

His eyes flew open, and the brightness from the sun streaming into the room made him wince as he spotted a three-panel mirrored closet staring back at him. When he didn’t immediately recognize his surroundings, Robbie jackknifed up, clutched the covers to his chest, and brought his other hand up to his head, which felt like it was about to roll off his shoulders.

Damn those Bitter Bitches…

“If your head hurts half as bad as it appears, you’re going to need something stronger than coffee.” Priest’s deep voice filled the room, and Robbie blinked several times and focused on the mirrors on the closet.

In the reflection, he saw off-white curtains that framed a window, and the plush mattress he was sitting on, which felt as soft as he imagined a cloud would.

Priest was on a cream chair dressed in a dark grey suit, black shirt, and striped tie to match the handkerchief he’d folded and stuffed in his breast pocket. And beside him, up against the far wall, was a light grey tallboy with a crystal vase and… Are they white roses?

The room felt familiar but…different. It was elegant, modern, a designer’s dream, and when Robbie finally found his tongue, the first thing out of his mouth was: “How did I end up here? With you?”

“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” Priest said, as Robbie held the cover to his body like it was a lifeline and shifted on the bed so he was facing Priest.

“That was pretty fucking specific.”

Priest uncrossed his legs and got to his feet, and Robbie found himself mesmerized by the way he slowly began to button his jacket.

“No, it wasn’t. Do you want to know how you ended up in this condo with me? This bedroom with me? Or that bed…on your own?” Priest said. “Those are three different questions. With three very different answers.”

As Priest walked toward him, Robbie looked around, hoping to spot Priest’s other, less intimidating half. But when he didn’t see Julien anywhere, he said, “All of that. I want to know all of that. And you can stop right there, mister.”

Priest tilted his head to the side, studying Robbie where he sat. “Very well. Let me see. First you passed out in my car after defiling my ears with your singing.”

Defiling his—Oh yeah, Starship. Robbie remembered that.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Priest pressed his finger to Robbie’s lips and said, “I’m not finished,” and Robbie quickly shut his mouth. “I then carried you to the elevator, and Julien and I brought you upstairs to our place.”

Robbie’s eyes widened. Okay, he so didn’t remember that. Not the elevator ride. Not the being carried part. And how could he forget that? Had Priest carried him over his shoulder, fireman style? Or in his arms like Prince Charming? Except, you know, minus the charming part. “I don’t remember any of that.”

“I’m not surprised,” Priest said. “You had a lot to drink.”

No shit, Robbie thought, as he glared at Priest, trying to decide if what he saw in those eyes was judgment or amusement. Either way, it had him bristling like a cornered, wet cat, and when he peered down at himself, pulling the cover away an inch, he noticed he was only wearing his jeans. “Where’s my shirt?”

“Julien thought you’d be more comfortable without it. In case you got too hot.”

“Surrre he did,” Robbie said, his inner brat rising to the surface as his humiliation over having passed out was brought front and center. “Why not just strip me completely, then?”

“He tried. Your jeans were too tight.”

“Oh,” Robbie managed, and Priest’s dour expression made him want to slap it right off his face. “Where is he now?”

“Out in the kitchen.”

Overwhelmed by the fact that he was in a bedroom, half-naked, with a man who not only annoyed him every time he opened his mouth but also, for reasons unknown, made his body hyperaware, Robbie ran a nervous hand through his hair as he worried his lower lip with his teeth.

“He sent me in to wish you a good morning,” Priest said, and then added, “Don’t do that,” as he touched his index finger to Robbie’s lip again.

“Um…”

“Yes?”

Robbie was sure he was going to say something like Don’t tell me what to do or Get your hands off me. But instead his lips parted slightly under the weight of Priest’s finger and he said, “Good morning.”

Priest continued to stare, seemingly unaffected, until Robbie unconsciously licked his lip, his tongue touching that finger, and that was when it happened. The moment Robbie first saw it. The scorching heat and untamed lust that turned those cold grey eyes of Priest’s to that of melted steel.

“Good morning,” Priest replied, and Robbie thought it was a miracle his heart didn’t stop.

Wow. He’s, like, all kinds of intense, Robbie thought as he sat there paralyzed, waiting for Priest’s next move.

Priest rubbed his finger slowly back and forth over Robbie’s lip until it was slick, and then ran it down his chin until he dropped his hand by his side.

“Are you busy tonight?” Priest asked, and even if he had been, Robbie knew he would’ve cancelled.

He was man enough, horny enough, and, hell, stupid enough to admit that he wanted this. Priest, Julien, whatever this was. He fucking wanted it. Yes, he did. “No. It’s my night off.”

“Good. We want to take you to dinner.”

Hang on a second… “Dinner?”

“Yes. You are familiar with the practice of eating, I assume?”

“Well, yeah, but”—Robbie shrugged—“you don’t have to take me to dinner to—”

“Fuck you?”

Robbie knew Priest was trying to shock him, so instead of cowering, he angled his head up a notch and said, “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Priest took hold of Robbie’s chin in a firm grip, bent his head, and whispered above his mouth, “It’s one of the things we want. And though we don’t have to, we want to take you to dinner.”

Robbie’s eyes dropped to Priest’s mouth. For the first time, he noticed how pink Priest’s lips were compared to the auburn stubble surrounding them, and was shocked to realize he wanted to taste them.

“Robert?”

Robbie’s eyes flew back to Priest’s, and he knew they must’ve screamed one thing—guilty.

“Will you come to dinner with us?”

Robbie swallowed and then nodded the best he could with Priest still holding his face.

“Good. There’s a bagel and coffee over on the tallboy. You should eat. Julien will give you something for the headache if you need it. I have to go to work.”

Priest released him, and Robbie was stunned by how bereft he felt from the loss of the touch, as he watched a man he never thought he’d be interested in straighten his suit and head to the bedroom door.

“I’ll see you tonight, Robert.”

It was only after Priest left that Robbie realized he hadn’t once corrected him on his name. But more perplexing was the fact that he kind of liked the way “Robert” sounded when Joel Priestley called him that.

* * *

“THERE, HAPPY? I wished him a good morning.”

Julien turned from the sink and slung a dishtowel over his shoulder, as Priest walked across their living room. He’d buttoned up his suit jacket, but beyond that, it didn’t appear that Robbie had thrown anything at his head. In Julien’s book, that was a success.

“I’m very happy. Positively bursting with joy,” Julien said, as Priest reached around him for his cell phone and then slipped it in his pocket. “And isn’t that what you want? A happy wife means a happy…night.”

“I don’t believe that’s how that saying goes. In any case, my night should be extraordinary after this.”

“Oh? Do tell me more.”

“You have the night off,” Priest said. “We’re all going out to dinner.”

Julien’s eyes went beyond Priest’s shoulder, and he knew exactly what his husband was talking about. The plan. Their plan. This was the first step. “He said yes?”

“To dinner.”

“That’s a start, mon amour. But I think I would like to cook tonight, if you don’t mind.”

“Why would I ever mind that?” Priest said, and pressed his lips to Julien’s. “I have to go. I trust you’ll look after our guest appropriately.”

Julien leaned away from Priest and nodded. “Of course. Are you implying that I’d do something without you?”

“Are you implying that you wouldn’t?”

“I would never… Not if we have an agreement.”

“And we do, don’t we?”

“We do. So hurry up and leave so you can come home.”

When the sound of a door opening filled the room, Julien glanced over Priest’s shoulder as his husband stepped aside so they could both get a good look at Robbie, who had just walked out into their living room.

Wearing nothing but the lowest, tightest pair of jeans Julien had seen, Robbie ran a hand through his messy hair as his smudged eyes wandered around the space.

Last night Julien had taken Robbie’s shirt to wash for him, and as he and Priest stood there staring at the young man, Julien couldn’t help but wish he’d been able to remove those jeans too. He would’ve bet money there was nothing but a flimsy scrap of fabric, if that, under that denim.

“I’ve got to go,” Priest announced, and then he looked at Julien and said, “Remember, appropriate behavior.”

“Je sais. I know,” Julien said, and laughed when Priest looked down at the erection he had no hope of hiding in his loose yoga pants. “Don’t act like I’m the only one. Il est délicieux.”

“Agreed. But I’m leaving. You’re staying. So behave yourself.”

As Priest picked up his briefcase, Julien was about to assure him that he would when Robbie started laughing from across the room.

“Oh my God,” Robbie said as he brought a hand up to his mouth and looked over to the balcony doors. “I just realized why this place is so familiar.”

Priest grabbed his keys off the counter and walked around it to head out the door, as Julien stood at the island, waiting for Robbie to fill them in.

“This is Logan’s old place.”

At those words, Priest’s feet came to an abrupt halt. “Yes. It is.”

“I knew it. It looks totally different now. But if you’d taken me into that room,” Robbie said, pointing to the master bedroom, “I would’ve known straight away.”

Oh shit, Julien thought, as Priest looked at him with an expression that relayed loud and clear that this was information he was not aware of.

“You have to go to work, remember?” Julien said.

Priest’s eyes narrowed as if to say, Nice try. Then he turned back to Robbie, who seemed oblivious to the fact that he’d just kicked a hornets’ nest. “You dated Logan?”

Robbie laughed at that. Once, twice, and then he really started to laugh. When he finally got control of himself, he said, “I wish.”

“Then how have you seen the master bedroom in this place?”

Robbie looked to Julien. “He really is from another century, isn’t he?”

“Robert,” Priest said in a tone that made Julien’s cock ache and Robbie—oh yes, princesse, you like that tone too—blush, from his face down to his neck.

“What?” Robbie snapped.

Priest walked over to Robbie, and Julien admired the fact that Robbie didn’t back up even when Priest got so close that the tips of his shoes touched Robbie’s bare toes.

“I’m going to ask you a question, and I would like you to think very carefully before you answer.”

Robbie looked as though he wanted to tell Priest to take a hike, but instead he kept his mouth shut and waited.

“Have you had sex with Logan?”

Robbie’s eyes darted over Priest’s shoulder to Julien’s, and when he inclined his head, hoping to relay that Robbie should answer with the truth, he looked back to Priest and said, “Yes. We met at a club one night before he knew Tate.”

That vibrating tension that Julien had started to think had lifted was back in full force as Priest stared at Robbie in silence, and Julien wondered if this new piece of information changed his husband’s mind about what he wanted out of all of this. But then, without another word, Priest turned and walked down the corridor and out the front door.

As it slammed shut behind him, Robbie startled slightly, and Julien said, “Don’t worry. He’ll come around.”

“Come around? What was he expecting? A virgin?”

Julien chuckled and shook his head as he headed back to the sink. “Non—he just wasn’t expecting you to have slept with one of his work partners.”

“Uh, news flash. There was no sleeping involved that night. I was awake for all of it.”

Julien looked over his shoulder to see that Robbie had moved to stand behind one of the stools.

“Merely a figure of speech. I’ve only met Logan once, but I can’t imagine sleeping much either should I have found myself in his bed.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Robbie said. “And now that he’s married, you never will. He isn’t like you and—” He bit off his words, and Julien took the dishtowel off his shoulder, wiped his hands, and threw it on the counter.

He walked around to Robbie, and when he got close enough that he could feel Robbie’s body heat emanating off him, Julien said, “It’s okay—you can say it. He isn’t like me and Priest?”

Robbie looked around the room as though he were suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation. “Um, yeah. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like the two of you.”

“Mmm,” Julien said, and ran a finger from the base of Robbie’s throat to the center of his chest. “I would agree. We are—”

“Strange?” Robbie suggested, but if he thought to offend, he was in for a shock.

“I prefer unique,” Julien said, as he trailed his finger over to one of Robbie’s flat nipples, which he suddenly wanted to bite. “We do things a little differently than most. But I think that excites you. You’re curious about us, and that makes you perfect.”

“Oh God.” Robbie’s lips parted and a shuddery sigh left him as he arched his body forward, and Julien scraped his nail over the nipple he was playing with. “Perfect for what?”

Julien slowly shook his head. “I’m not allowed to tell. But you’ll find out if you come to dinner tonight.”

“I, ah…I don’t think Priest wants me at dinner after this.”

Julien’s lips curved at the beautiful way Robbie was responding to him. Breathless, but eager, as he leaned into the touch. “Au contraire. The problem is he wants you for dinner. Yes, he’s upset about this new development, but not because it happened—because he didn’t know about it.”

Robbie blinked as though trying to focus on Julien’s words and not how he was feeling. “I don’t understand.”

Julien moved the final step he needed to place his cheek by Robbie’s. “Control, mon cher petit. It’s all about control. And once you understand that, you will understand Priest.”

Julien dropped his hand and took a step back as Robbie grabbed the back of the barstool for support, his eyes bright with a newfound understanding.

“The only question now is,” Julien said, “do you still want to come to dinner with us?”