Confessions: Priest (Confessions Series Book 3)

by Ella Frank

  He was so earnest that Robbie automatically nodded.

  “Good. Also, I’d prefer you to be picked up by Elliot when you’re done here. Just until I—”

  “Know more?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” As the light switched to green and they headed off again, Robbie heard himself say, “I just… I just need a moment to myself so I can try and understand what I’m feeling, you know?”

  Robbie counted the silent seconds that passed after that with each beat of his heart. Thump, thump, thump.

  “I understand,” Priest said. “You have every right to feel the way you do.”

  Robbie looked down at his hands. “I wish I didn’t.”

  As Priest pulled up to the curb of the retirement community, he said, “So do I. But that’s on me. Not you.”

  Robbie swallowed and reached for the door handle. As he pushed it down and was about to shove it open, he stopped at the last second and leaned across the car to press a fierce kiss to Priest’s lips.

  When Robbie pulled back, Priest touched his mouth where their lips had just met, and Robbie’s heart ached at the move. “I’ll see you and Julien later tonight.”

  Priest inclined his head, and though he looked like he wanted to say more, he didn’t, as Robbie climbed out and headed into his nonna’s place, positive that the next few hours would feel more like a thousand, since it already felt like an eternity since he’d left Priest’s side.

  Chapter Five

  CONFESSION

  The most effective way to capture my attention

  is to walk away from me.

  AS ROBBIE WALKED away, Priest knew he had to let him go, even though he wanted to call out for him to come back. He had no one to blame for the distance he’d put between them but himself, and even though he knew that, it was still a hard pill to swallow.

  In the past, the two of them had had their fair share of arguments and disagreements, but nothing like this. This one held all the more weight because it had the potential to tear the three of them apart.

  Priest ran a hand through his hair, gripping it at the roots as though that bite of pain would somehow ease his frustration. But all he could think about was how in the world his and Julien’s life would ever go back to normal if Robbie walked away from them for good.

  He was trying not to focus on that very real possibility, but it wasn’t that much of a stretch that their carefree boyfriend would think this all too much and decide not to tie his life to theirs after all.

  Priest shut his eyes and took in a breath, and as he did, he thought back to a time when he’d watched Julien walk away because of something he’d done—or, as was the case with Robbie, something he hadn’t done. He remembered feeling the exact same determination he did right now. That he would do anything he had to, to have that man in his life…

  PRIEST SAT IN the valet line that had been created outside the set of the hottest reality restaurant show, and watched the A-list guests arrive for a night of culinary excellence.

  Tonight, Graham Boyd—world-renowned chef and restaurateur—had invited a select group of guests to the wrap party of his latest project, Chef Master.

  This wasn’t the kind of function Priest would generally attend, the L.A./Hollywood social scene not really his deal. But as he sat there in his car staring at the invitation in his hand, he knew exactly why he was there, and it had nothing to do with socializing and everything to do with one of the contestants of the show—Julien Thornton.

  It’d been months since Priest had last seen the Frenchman—five, to be exact—and he had honestly thought he’d never hear from the man again. So when an invitation to attend tonight’s event had arrived at his office, Priest had almost thrown it out until he’d flipped the envelope over and read who it was from: Your friendly neighborhood car thief.

  His reaction to those five words would’ve been somewhat shocking if he hadn’t had the exact same one every time he saw, or thought about, the man. His pulse had skyrocketed, and his cock had been in a state of semi-arousal since reading the words, and that had been nearly two weeks ago, which explained why he was now sitting outside this studio at eight o’clock on a Thursday night, trying to convince himself that going inside would not be the biggest mistake of his life.

  Priest drove his car forward to where a young man stood waiting for him, and as he came to a stop, he folded the piece of paper in half and slipped it inside his shirt pocket under his jacket. As he climbed out of the car, Priest handed over his keys and thanked the man before he headed toward the front door that was lined on either side with a red velvet rope.

  There were no fans to be held back tonight, since this season of Chef Master had not yet aired—just those “in the know” people who somehow or another were always aware when a party was going on and managed to score an invite.

  Priest walked up to the front door, and when it was pushed open for him, he was instructed to head inside to the hostess stand. As he waited behind two women dressed up for a night on the town, he overheard them talking and caught the blonde of the pair say, “I heard the winner this year is French.”

  Her friend smiled and nodded, her eyes practically glittering at the comment. “Oh, I know. I did too. Can you imagine snagging him as your boyfriend? Bonjour, chérie, what would you like for breakfast?” she said, and then laughed at her basic imitation of the French language.

  “Um yes, a French chef with a delicious accent? Sign me up.”

  Now that’s interesting, Priest thought. Julien had won the competition? The same man Priest had bailed out of jail? Huh. He hadn’t known that. But one thing he did know for sure was the second these women got a glimpse of the French chef they were speaking of, they would melt into a puddle at his feet.

  Yes, Julien Thornton was that attractive, and unless there was another French-speaking contestant this season, he had to be whom they were referring to, which again had Priest wondering why he was even bothering with this in the first place.

  It wasn’t like this thing, this simmering sexual awareness they’d had for one another, could go anywhere. He didn’t get involved in relationships for several reasons. But one of them was how intensely private he was about his life.

  That came from years of keeping one’s identity—their real identity—a secret from the rest of the world, which couldn’t exactly happen if the person you were interested in had just won the biggest cooking show in America and would soon be a household name.

  Priest shook his head. He’d known this was a bad idea from the get-go. The fact that he was even thinking about a relationship in the first place was completely unlike him, and yet another reason he knew he should leave—Julien made him go against his common sense, and that was never a good thing.

  He was about to turn around and get out of there while he still could, but before he got one foot in front of the other, the woman behind the hostess table said, “Good evening, sir. Can I please see your invitation?”

  Shit. It was too late now. Unless, of course, he told her that he didn’t have one—that would be a surefire way to get thrown out of there, but it would also draw a lot of unwarranted attention.

  Priest reached into his jacket and pulled out the invite. Once he handed it over, the woman looked for his name on a computer and said, “You’re at table seventeen. Drinks are being served in the bar area before appetizers, so if you’d like to head through those double doors over there, that’s where you’ll find the rest of tonight’s guests, the contestants, and, of course, Graham himself. Have a wonderful evening, Mr. Priestley.”

  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 peopl
e 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—”

  “Over here,” Julien said from where he was leaning against the wall of a terrace that had lights strung up around the trestles.

  Priest let the door go, and as it slowly shut behind him, the din of the crowd inside faded until there was nothing—just silence.

  “What is this place?” Priest asked, as he took in the patio filled with outdoor furniture. A couch ran halfway around the perimeter of the fence enclosure that had to be soundproofed, because he couldn’t hear any traffic outside, and in L.A., that was close to impossible. There was a fire pit off to one side and a large table with an umbrella on the other that was also covered in twinkling lights.

  “It’s where the contestants used to come and talk things out after each challenge.”

  Priest slipped his hands into his pockets as he walked farther out onto the patio and looked around. “So it’s basically where you argued, gossiped, and—”

  “Sat thinking about everything I’d say the next time I saw you. Oui.”

  Priest ignored the final effort his conscience was trying to put forth for him to walk away, and instead did the exact opposite. He strode over to Julien until he was toe to toe with him. “What did you come up with?”

  Julien lowered his gaze to Priest’s mouth. “Nothing…”

  When one of Priest’s eyebrows rose, Julien pushed off the wall and closed the gap between them.

  “I realized that I don’t want to talk, monsieur. Not anymore. And neither do you.”

  Julien raised his hands and put his palms flat on Priest’s chest; the second they connected, it was like a match had caught, and the fire began to blaze.

  “How private is this patio, chef?”

  “How private do you want it to be?” Julien said, his breath ghosting along Priest’s jaw.

  Priest wrapped his fingers around Julien’s wrists and slowly drew them away from his body. When Julien opened his mouth as though to protest, Priest wedged his foot between Julien’s and brought his hands behind his back. “I want it to be private enough that I can have another taste of you…”

  When Priest’s very obvious erection brushed up against the one Julien had no hope of concealing, Julien made a sound close to a purr in the back of his throat, and then angled his head back, his lips parting on a soft moan.

  “Putain,” Julien said, and Priest finally did what he’d wanted to do from the first time he’d met Julien Thornton: he tongued that lower lip and watched those jade eyes darken with arousal.

  “You are a devastatingly attractive man, Mr. Thornton. Breathtaking.”

  Julien thrust his hips forward, making Priest growl, and then he said, “Embrasse-moi…”

  Priest narrowed his eyes, wondering what that meant, but then Julien’s lips curved into a provocative smile and the message was clear, even before he whispered, “Kiss me.”

  Nothing could’ve held Priest back then. He had been fighting his attraction to this man since he’d found him trying to hot-wire his car, and when he finally touched his lips to the lush ones waiting for him, Priest’s entire world changed course.

  The first thing he realized was that he hadn’t been wrong. That first kiss in his office hadn’t been some delusion he’d made up because he couldn’t get Julien out of his head. He hadn’t imagined that intense passion they’d shared even through the sadness—if anything, he’d underplayed it.

  The second thing: Priest was in so much trouble, because all of the rules he’d ever put in place for himself about getting involved or allowing someone to care for him? He was about to throw them right out the window if it meant having this man in his life.

  Priest released one of Julien’s hands and ran his fingers down his cheek, and as he held Julien’s chin in place, Priest finally sank his tongue inside that delicious mouth and tasted ev
ery inch of it until a groan rumbled out of Julien.

  As Julien’s back hit the wall, his eyes flew open, and he pulled his mouth free, panting. With swollen lips and lust-filled eyes, he continued to move his lower body against Priest. “Ahh, I see how it is …”

  Priest remained silent, but braced his hands on either side of Julien’s head, waiting for whatever he was going to say next.

  “Now that I’ve won Chef Master, you suddenly want me.”

  Priest narrowed his eyes at that assessment. “If you believe that, then you don’t see anything at all.”

  “Non?”

  “No. I’ve always wanted you, even when you were locked in a jail cell.”

  Bold as ever, Julien leaned forward and scraped his teeth along Priest’s jaw, and when he got to the ear, he said, “Prove it.”

  Priest had no problem doing that, and was about to show him. But before he could, Julien slipped out from between him and the wall and said, “I got my life together because you said it was the only way I could have you. But now it’s your turn, Mr. Priest.”

  Caught off guard, as he always seemed to be by this man, Priest turned to face Julien and said, “My life is already together.”

  “Oh, I don’t mean that,” Julien said, and chuckled as he walked away, over to the patio door.

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  Julien stopped, looked over his shoulder, and licked those fantasy-inspiring lips of his again. “Si, you do. It’s your turn now. I did all this for you. So if you want me, and I think it’s pretty obvious that you do, then it’s your turn to work for it.”

  “By…?”

  Julien grinned, and that look alone had Priest close to falling to his knees.

  “By begging, Mr. Priest. I’m about to be a big celebrity. I think it’s only fair you beg after everything you made me do for a date. Don’t you?”

  Yes, Priest supposed he did. But before he could say that, Julien had disappeared back inside, leaving Priest to think about the best way to ensure that man became a permanent part of his life and never walked away from him again.