“No. I’m still angry at you for what you did. Flirting with me when you’re married.”
Julien’s raspy laugh made its way through the phone, and as Robbie bit down on his lip, trying to hold back a sigh, he swore that laugh turned to a groan before Julien cleared his throat.
“Don’t be like that,” Julien said. “I was there by my husband’s request. And I’m glad I was. You are…lovely.”
“Don’t try and sweet-talk me,” Robbie snapped, when what he really wanted was to invite Julien to come and meet him at the bar. Ugh, those Bitches. He really should’ve stopped at the margaritas tonight, or given Elliot his phone. He wasn’t of sound mind to be making decisions. Especially if Julien was going to keep groaning in his ear like he was. Why is he groaning?
“I’m not joking, Julien. I don’t want to talk to you. You made me feel like an idiot. You both did.”
“We know. And we apologize. But you see, you called my phone—”
“And your husband answered,” Robbie said. “I’m pretty sure that’s a sign this was a bad idea.”
“Yet you did it anyway.”
Robbie felt his face flush from mortification—and alcohol.
“Do you do that often?” Julien asked.
“Do what?”
“Things that are a bad idea?”
“I’m still talking to you, aren’t I?”
Julien chuckled, and the sound was so sexy that Robbie was surprised he didn’t melt off the seat into a puddle on the floor. He knew he should end this. He was chasing trouble by even thinking about the possibilities here. But for whatever reason—maybe the third Bitch?—he stayed on the phone.
“Oui, you are. And I can be bad, Robbie. Tu n’en as pas la moindre idée.”
Shit. What does that mean? Robbie wanted to ask. But it didn’t really matter. Every time something French came out of Julien’s mouth, Robbie’s pulse skyrocketed. It was so fucking hot.
As he tried to think of something to keep his wandering mind off Julien naked and hard and being, well, bad, the first thing that came to him was: “Where’d your other half go?” There… Think about how much you hate his husband. That should do the trick.
“Priest?”
“Well, yeah,” Robbie said, rolling his eyes. “Unless there’s someone else with you right now.” When another groan met his ears, Robbie’s mouth fell open. “Oh my God. Is there someone else with you?” Then he hiccupped as the alcohol caught up with him the same time his outrage did.
“Non, no one else is here but ahh…Joel,” Julien growled in his ear, and Robbie quickly looked around to see if anyone else had just heard what he knew was a fucking sex groan. “Can you hang on a second, princesse?”
Is he serious right now? Robbie thought, the liquor making it difficult for all of his crazed imaginings to make any sense.
Are they? No… Oh my God. They so are.
The cursing. The heavy breathing. The groans. He was no stranger to the sound of hot sex, and as the two at the other end got louder, Robbie knew exactly what he was listening to.
End the call, he told himself. There was no way he should sit there and listen to Julien get off to God knows what. End it now.
But he didn’t, and he decided he’d blame that on the alcohol. Instead, he slipped off the stool and looked around for a dark place to go and— What? Enjoy this?
Hell fucking yes, who am I kidding? I totally wanna enjoy this.
Robbie headed over to an alcove away from the bar and dance floor and leaned his back against the wall as Julien said, “Oui. Encore. C’est tellement bon, Joel… J’y suis presque,” and Robbie couldn’t stop himself. This time, instead of putting a hand against his erection to stop the ache, he began to massage his palm up and down his throbbing length.
He had no idea what had just come out of Julien’s mouth, but it sounded sexier than anything he’d heard in his life. Then Julien went and added in Priest’s name, and the images in Robbie’s head had him close to coming—just as he suspected Julien was. Which got Robbie wondering—what exactly was Priest’s role in all of this? Robbie couldn’t hear the other man, so maybe his mouth was…full?
And sweet mother of all that’s holy, that thought had him—
“Fuck me,” Robbie said, and squeezed his eyes shut as he ordered himself to let go of his dick, and then dug his nails into his palm until it hurt.
It wasn’t until his breathing calmed that he realized the other end of the phone was now silent, and then he heard, “Is that an invitation?”
As the no-nonsense voice filled his head, Robbie realized he was no longer talking to Julien but to the man who troubled him most of all—Priest. With Julien, Robbie knew he could flirt and joke around and no harm would come of it. But Priest? He was another story. An infuriating, uptight, intimidating story. Not in the sense that he would hurt Robbie, but in the sense that he could see right through him.