Confessions: The Princess, The Prick & The Priest (Confessions Series Book 4)

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Confessions: The Princess, The Prick & The Priest (Confessions Series Book 4) Page 12

by Ella Frank


  But the only response Julien got was the soft, even breathing of his two men, who were already in a deep, peaceful slumber.

  Chapter Twelve

  I want it all,

  and I want it my way ~ Priest

  JULIEN STOOD AT the vanity in the guest bathroom the following morning waiting for the water to heat up. He’d woken around ten minutes earlier, his body still set on an internal alarm of early.

  Last night had been wonderful. Robbie’s family was amazing. From his sisters to his parents, each and every one of them were boisterous, loving, and just plain good fun. They were exactly as Julien had imagined Robbie’s family would be.

  As the water turned lukewarm, Julien put the plug in and filled the basin, and when he went to reach for his shaving cream, he saw the door to the en suite open and Priest fill the doorway.

  With his auburn hair sticking out all over the place, Priest winced against the bright light of the bathroom and clutched at his head. He looked…terrible, and he staggered into the room, shut the door behind him, and slumped back against it.

  Julien couldn’t stop his grin as he stared at his husband in the mirror, and when Priest’s eyes finally adjusted to the light, they found his.

  “Bonjour,” Julien said. “You’re up early.”

  Priest rubbed at his eyes. “The drumming in my head woke me up.”

  Julien chuckled as he shook the shaving cream and squirted some into his palm. “Just drumming? With the amount of alcohol you consumed last night, I’m surprised you don’t have a full-on marching band playing in there.”

  “Fuck me,” Priest said, and dropped his hand down to his side. “I feel like shit.”

  As he pushed off the door and came to stand beside Julien, Priest caught a look at himself in the mirror and grimaced. His jeans were undone and barely hanging on to his hips, and they and his briefs were the only things that remained from last night’s little impromptu striptease.

  “I look like shit too,” Priest mumbled. “Jesus, what happened?”

  Julien swished his razor in the warm water, and as he brought it up to his cheek, he said, “Hurricane Valerie.” He dragged the blade through the white cream and found Priest’s eyes in the mirror. They were narrowed as though he were trying to think back.

  “Ugh,” Priest said, and ran a hand through his messy hair. “I don’t remember.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Julien continued shaving the left side of his face. “What’s the last thing you do remember?”

  Priest braced his hands on the vanity and hung his head down. “Uh…Robert blew out his candles and you went to get us a drink, and then, yes, Valerie. She kept bringing me drinks, and I didn’t want to—”

  “Be rude?” Julien asked, his eyebrow raised.

  “Right. So I thought, I can have one or two, how bad could this get.”

  Julien clamped his lips together but couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled out of him.

  “Oh God. It got bad, didn’t it? What did I do?” Priest groaned. “Please tell me I didn’t sing.”

  Julien eyed him and thought about playing with Priest, but the poor guy looked miserable enough already. “You did not sing, non.”

  “But I did something else?” Priest shook his head. “What?”

  “You just got a little bit…footloose.”

  Priest narrowed his eyes.

  “You were dancing.”

  The expression on Priest’s face conveyed his confusion. He didn’t quite understand what was wrong with that. “That’s not too bad. I didn’t trip over my feet, did I?”

  “Non,” Julien said. “Your feet weren’t what was moving, mon amour. You weren’t dancing dancing. You were more”—Julien put the razor down and turned to rest his hip against the vanity—“bumping and grinding. With Valerie.”

  Priest’s mouth fell open, and for the first time in as long as Julien could remember, his face flamed the same color as his hair.

  “You’re kidding,” Priest said, and covered his face.

  “I’m not. Je suis désolé.”

  Priest shook his head, but then dropped his hands down, his eyes wide. “Were Robert’s parents there? Fuck.”

  Julien moved in until he was close enough to press a kiss to Priest’s naked shoulder. “No, they were inside with a few of the other…adults.” Julien chuckled. “As far as I know, you’re safe.”

  “Oh God. I’m sorry,” Priest said. “Robert must be pissed.”

  “I think you might be surprised.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Robbie’s not mad at you. Although I think Valerie might get an earful today. Plus, you made it up to him last night.” Priest frowned, and Julien grinned. “You were rather amusing once we got back up here.”

  “Amusing?”

  “Amusing. Amorous. Take your pick. Either way, by the time you passed out, Robbie was quite entertained.”

  “Jesus,” Priest said. “I’m so ashamed of myself.”

  “Don’t be. It was good to see you finally unwind and relax. Robbie feels the same. It was nice to know that you felt you could.”

  “I don’t think feeling relaxed had anything to do with taking one hundred shots.”

  “Oui, it did. Even if you were trying to make sure Valerie liked you, you never would’ve had a drink if you thought there was a reason to stay alert. Last night, you were finally free.”

  Priest grunted. “A little too free, it seems.”

  “Mhmm,” Julien said, and reached for Priest’s hand. “I was about to have a shower, and since you owe me…”

  Priest ran his eyes down Julien’s naked chest to the towel at his waist. “Owe you?”

  “Oui. You left me incredibly…tense last night. So why don’t you join me?”

  As Julien walked back toward the small shower stall, he tugged Priest with him.

  “It’s pretty tight in there,” Priest said.

  Julien whipped off the towel, dropped it to the floor, and said, “Yes, it is,” before he stepped into the shower stall and turned on the spray.

  Not two seconds later, he was happy to hear the rustling sounds of clothing hit the tile floor and the door opening, because while he’d been joking around out there, Priest did owe him, and Julien figured the least Priest could do was wash his…back for him.

  AFTER A VERY frustrating shower, Priest and Julien dressed quietly in the room, where Robbie still slept soundly. One thing they’d learned about their princess was that it took some heavy-duty noise, a warm pair of lips, or a hard cock somewhere near him to rouse the beauty from his sleep.

  But with the added aid of alcohol and excitement from last night, he would likely be out for a little while longer, which worked in their favor this morning, because Priest and Julien had something they needed to do.

  Once they were ready, they crept outside and were greeted with the beautiful morning sunrise. Priest was about halfway down the stairs when he stopped and glanced over at the back door of the Bianchis’ house, and as Julien reached the bottom, he turned and looked back.

  “Joel?” Priest refocused on Julien as he took the final stairs down, and then Julien took his hand and said, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  Julien smiled, and when his dimple appeared, Priest reached up to touch it.

  “What do you always tell Robbie about lying?” Julien said.

  “Not to.” When Julien raised an eyebrow, Priest cleared his throat and said, “Point made.”

  “Bien. Then I’ll ask again. What’s wrong?”

  Priest was nervous, that was what was wrong, and as he looked into Julien’s handsome face, Priest found it difficult to admit. “I think you should do the talking in there this morning.”

  Julien frowned and took a step closer. “Why?” Priest went to look away, but Julien moved in his direct line of sight. “Why, Joel?”

  “Because you’re better at it.” As soon as he said the words, Priest knew how absurd they sounded, and so did Julien,
judging by the way his lips quirked.

  “I’m better at it? You’re a lawyer, mon amour. It’s your job to talk to people. Try again.”

  “You know what I mean,” Priest said. “You are more personable, more…likable.”

  Julien cocked his head to the side. “You’re nervous.”

  “I’m—”

  “Nervous,” Julien said again, and his grin grew wider until Priest glared at him.

  “And if I am? Why does that make you so happy?”

  “Because you’re never nervous,” Julien said. “In fact, you were the one who was the most excited to come up here. I almost feel like I should go and wake Robbie for this.”

  Priest shook his head, and Julien chuckled.

  “Je suis désolé,” Julien said, but judging by his smiling eyes, Priest highly doubted it.

  “You will be if you don’t stop taking such joy from my misery. Why is it you’re so understanding with Robert, but my nerves amuse you?”

  Julien leaned in and brushed his lips over the top of Priest’s. “Because it’s nice to be reminded that you’re like us from time to time.”

  “As opposed to?”

  “A hero,” Julien said. “My hero. Two times over now.”

  Priest wrapped his arms around Julien’s waist and said, “I’m just a man, mon cœur.”

  “You’re a man in love,” Julien said, and aimed his eyes up at the guesthouse.

  “You would be right. And that’s why I’m nervous. I was the first time around, too.”

  Julien took Priest’s face between his hands and said, “You have no reason to be nervous.” Priest put his forehead to Julien’s and shut his eyes. “You didn’t then, and you don’t now. The man up in that bed worships the ground you walk on, Joel. His parents have seen that all weekend.”

  Priest reached for Julien’s hands and nodded.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?” Julien said.

  “I think you’re a little bit biased. But it’s in my favor, so I’ll take it.”

  They turned to walk across the driveway, where the lights were still strung and bags of garbage had been collected from the night before, and as they headed up the back stairs to the main house, the door opened and Robbie’s mother called out, “Buongiorno.”

  While Priest and Julien might not have understood a lot of the words they’d heard last night, that one was fairly obvious.

  “Bonjour,” Julien replied, as Priest said, “Good morning.”

  They climbed the stairs, and when they reached the top, Sofia beamed at both of them but reached out to pat Priest on the arm.

  “How are you feeling this morning?”

  Mortified, Priest thought. So much for Robbie’s parents not seeing. Best to apologize now. “A little bit embarrassed,” Priest said, and smiled. “Sorry for my behavior last night. I—”

  “Your behavior?” she said, frowning.

  “Yes. I had a little too much—”

  “Fun, I hope. The girls told us you are quite the dancer. I only wish I’d gotten to see.”

  Julien snorted.

  “I, um…” Priest stumbled around looking for the right words to say to Sofia and ended up going off on a tangent. “I actually really enjoy dancing to the classics. I’m a big fan of Sinatra, so—”

  “Ol’ Blue Eyes?” Sofia’s expression lit up, and she grabbed hold of Priest’s hand, and before he could say another word, she led him inside and called out, “Antonio!”

  Priest glanced over his shoulder to make sure Julien was coming wherever he was being taken, and as they made their way through the kitchen, they spotted Valerie slumped over at the kitchen table.

  “Valerie, where’d your pa go?” Sofia asked.

  Valerie winced and barely looked up as she pointed toward the living room.

  “Ignore her,” Sofia said. “She drank too much last night.”

  Didn’t he know it. But Priest was pleased to note that he looked a little better off than she did.

  “Antonio?” Sofia called out again.

  “I’m in here,” Robbie’s father called from down the hall, and before Priest could pass along his condolences—or tell Valerie he was never taking another drink from her again—Sofia was leading them down the hall.

  When they reached the brightly lit living room, Priest spotted Antonio sitting in the well-worn recliner. He looked exactly the way Priest imagined a father should look on a Sunday morning, with a newspaper open and a pair of eyeglasses perched on the end of his nose.

  He was wearing navy lounge pants, a white t-shirt, and a blue robe, and when he saw Priest and Julien walk in the room, Antonio closed the paper and set it down on his lap.

  “I didn’t think we’d see you two up this early,” he said, and then his eyes landed on Priest, and he smirked, much the same way his son did. “Especially you.”

  Okay, Priest thought. I have some work cut out for me there.

  “We tend to be early risers,” Julien said, coming to Priest’s rescue.

  “I bet Robbie loves that.”

  Julien laughed. “He hates it.”

  “I believe you. He was a nightmare to wake up for school.”

  “He really was,” Sofia said. “Always wanted to be up early enough to get ready, but complained the entire time. He was worse than the girls. Except for Felicity. I swear, those two have always been thick as thieves. They could’ve been twins.”

  At the mention of twins, Priest looked at Julien to make sure he was okay, and the warm smile his husband directed toward Sofia solidified just how far Julien had come over the months.

  “I had a twin sister, Jacquelyn,” Julien said. “So I understand that closeness for sure.”

  As the past tense of that comment registered, Sofia said, “I’m sorry if I—”

  “Non, non. Please don’t be sorry. In fact, this weekend with you and your family has been wonderful. And if it wasn’t for your son, I wouldn’t be able to talk so freely about her today.”

  Sofia looked to her husband, and Antonio acknowledged Julien’s comment with a nod before clearing his throat and saying to his wife, “Did you need me for something?”

  “What? Oh, no,” she said, and then beamed at Priest. “I came in here to tell you that this young man has a soft spot for your idol.”

  “My—”

  “Ol’ Blue Eyes.”

  “You like Sinatra?” Antonio said, and then got to his feet, tossing the paper down in his chair.

  “I do,” Priest said. “Very much.”

  Antonio looked Priest up and down but said nothing, then he made his way over to the large shelf that lined one of the living room walls. “Come with me.”

  When they’d all been in there the day before, they hadn’t really gotten a chance to look around. But as they moved closer to the shelf, Priest noticed it was full of books and photographs, and saw several of Robbie. Some on his own and some with his sisters.

  “Cute, wasn’t he?”

  Priest was once again shocked by Antonio. He was so accepting of his son, and for Priest and Julien, that was such a foreign concept that it was both strange and beautiful to behold.

  “Still is,” Priest said, and Julien added, “But we probably shouldn’t tell him. He’ll use it against us.”

  Antonio let out a booming laugh. “That he will. My boy is shameless.”

  “Your boy is wonderful,” Priest said without even planning to, and Antonio sobered in an instant and pinned him with a look Priest knew well. It was protective and one hundred percent a warning.

  Antonio said, “I’m glad you know that.”

  “We do,” Priest said, and Antonio nodded and reached for the two handles on the shelf.

  As he pulled them open, an old turntable came into view, and on several shelves above it was a vinyl collection that would rival any record store.

  “Mon Dieu,” Julien said. “That’s a lot of records.”

  “Damn right,” Antonio said, pride filling his voice. “I’ve been co
llecting for a lot of years. That shelf right there, that’s my man Frank.”

  Priest’s eyes widened. “I’m impressed.”

  “I’d be disappointed if you weren’t. What’s your favorite song?”

  Priest shrugged. “How can you pick?”

  Antonio whacked him on the arm. “You can’t. But there’s always one or two.”

  Priest nodded as he looked at Julien. “You’re right. I’d say ‘Young at Heart’ and ‘I’ve Got you Under My Skin’—”

  “That’s for other people,” Antonio said. “We all have those songs. What about for you. What’s your song? We all have one.”

  It was slightly uncanny how well Antonio read him, and when Priest opened his mouth to say, Antonio held up a finger.

  “I’ve got it,” he said as he reached for a 45, pulled it down, and handed it to Priest. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  Priest wanted to, but he was too blown away by the fact that Antonio was spot-on.

  “My Way” had been Priest’s favorite Sinatra song since the first time he’d heard it. It was the song he’d always lived by. The one that had given him the courage and strength to work and become more than where he’d come from. To not live his life like his father, but instead his own way.

  “I can’t tell you that. You’re spot-on,” Priest said, and this time when he looked at Robbie’s father, he didn’t feel nervous. He felt a sense of acceptance and a strange sense of camaraderie. And that was the only reason he could think of as to why he blurted out what he did next: “We want to marry your son.”

  The entire room fell silent, and Priest looked over Antonio’s shoulder to where Julien stood beside Sofia. Her eyes were as round as saucers, and Julien looked slightly caught off guard. But not because they hadn’t planned this, more because Priest had gone off script.

  The one person in the room that didn’t appear all that shocked, though, was the one who was regarding Priest very carefully.

  “You want an awful lot, don’t you?” Antonio said, and glanced at Julien. “Both of you do.”

  Julien stepped around to join Priest. It was imperative that Robbie’s parents understood that he and Julien were in this together. That what Priest had just said came from both of them.

 

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