Page 13 of Priest (Confessions 3)

Priest thanked the woman then headed in the direction she’d told him. Perhaps he could stay for a minute or two. He didn’t necessarily have to speak with Julien, but maybe if he caught a glimpse, the image Priest had in his head, the perfection of Julien’s face, might not be as impactful as he remembered.

No. Such. Luck. I should’ve left when I had the chance. That was the only thought in Priest’s head as the crowd of people standing directly in front of him chatting over cheese and wine dispersed, and Julien Thornton came into view.

In a navy-blue suit, Julien looked polished and professional, but the casual way he’d left open his white dress shirt several buttons showed off his smooth olive skin and made the hand Priest had stuffed in his pants pocket itch to touch, tear open, and grab at the lapels. And that was why Julien Thornton was going to be a major problem.

Go now, Priest told himself, as he continued to stand there and stare at the devastating man laughing at whatever the woman beside him had just said. Leave before he realizes you even came, then no harm, no foul. This man is a criminal. He tried to steal your damn car.

But Priest’s feet weren’t obeying the command his brain was sending, and before he knew what he was doing, his legs were eating up the space between him and that gorgeous French thief, needing to get closer. He needed to see if Julien’s eyes were as captivating as he remembered them being that day in his office—the day they had kissed.

“And how long have you lived in America, Mr. Thornton?” the woman asked Julien.

Julien was about to reply when his eyes caught on Priest on the opposite side of the crowd, and when recognition dawned, he said absently, “Since high school, so a while now. Excusez-moi. I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, of course,” the woman said, and just about swooned at Julien’s feet as he walked across the crowd to Priest.

With a sure stride and glittering green eyes, Julien resembled nothing of the sad, inebriated man Priest had last met. He oozed confidence, sex appeal, and a fuck-ton of charisma, as he stopped directly in front of Priest and said, “You came.”

That voice was sex personified, and Priest had a difficult time locating his brain. “I was invited.”

Julien’s lips quirked at the sides, and when that dimple appeared on his right cheek, Priest couldn’t help but think, How in the world was I supposed to stay away?

“Oui, you were. But considering your opinion of me and the last time we saw one another, it could’ve gone either way, non?”

Priest took in Julien’s sculpted jaw line, his perfect five-o’clock shadow, that Roman nose, and those full, pillowy lips, and said, “No. I don’t think it could have.”

Julien traced the tip of his tongue along his lower lip, his eyes twinkling with humor and…something else. “I’m so glad to hear it, monsieur.”

Priest’s body practically trembled with how hard he had to fight back the urge to grab hold of Julien and take that mouth with his. But as he stood there amongst a sea of strangers—and worse yet, a sea of strangers with cameras—he knew acting on that urge would be a really bad idea. No matter how badly he wanted a second kiss from this man.

“I’ve been watching the door for you,” Julien confessed, and Priest’s cock reacted as though Julien had just wrapped his fingers around it.

Jesus. His attraction to this man was unlike any he’d experienced, and Priest was done fighting it. He’d told Julien if, and when, he got his shit together to come see him, and it appeared tonight was the night. Why else send the invite? And it was time for Priest to let his “friendly neighborhood car thief” know that he was ready to follow through on his end of the bargain they’d struck—a night that would remind Julien he was alive. Though Priest wasn’t sure he would be by the end of it.

“And here I am,” Priest said.

“Here you are.”

They stood there for what felt like hours, and when Julien finally took a step forward, Priest had to remind himself again that they weren’t the only two in the bar.

“Follow me. I’ll show you around, Monsieur Priest.”

Priest turned his head, and when their eyes collided, he said, “It’s Priest-ley.”

“Oui, I know,” Julien said, his voice as seductive as a caress, and when he winked, Priest prayed for patience. “But I like getting under your skin.”

As Julien headed off toward a set of glass double doors, nothing could’ve stopped Priest from following. They led into a narrow hallway that Julien was halfway down, and when he got to a side door and pushed it open, disappearing outside, Priest followed.

“Julien? Julien, where—”

---