by Ella Frank
“He bettered himself. He changed. And he makes me want to change too.”
Henri knew that this battle was over.
The one thing he thought he’d always had in his corner, the one thing he thought Priest loved about him above all others, was that he was the same boy Priest had always known. The one who’d never forgotten him, the one who’d fought off the monsters with him, the one who loved him his entire life…
Who knew that was the one thing that would eventually drive him away.
HENRI STARED DOWN at the photo he’d found tucked in the visor of the car when he first took it. Priest had clearly put it there as a memento. It was of him and Julien on their wedding day, and as he stared at the two of them wrapped in each other’s embrace, Henri felt a lone tear roll down his cheek.
After the day he’d walked in on them, Henri had gone back to New Orleans and disappeared off the map. But instead of falling back into old habits, he’d focused on doing some changing of his own. He’d become a full-time off-the-books investigator for one of the law firms down there, and it had given him the opportunity to use his connections with his old life, even as he cut back on the more illegal shit.
Over the years, he’d kept an eye on everything that happened around him, from those trying to take Jimmy and Victor’s place, to the two men themselves, who were behind bars, and when he’d heard through the grapevine that someone by the name of Priest was looking for him, Henri eventually reached out, and they’d developed this…strained relationship they now had.
Henri put the photo and registration back in the glove box and locked it, and as he sat back in his seat, he twisted the black diamond around his finger, his last tie to the past.
It was time for him to move on. Time for him to stop thinking about a man who would never be his, and instead focus on one he knew could be for a night—with the right amount of persuasion.
Was it risky? Considering his past, and Bailey’s occupation…definitely. But when it came to the men he seemed most drawn to, Henri was starting to realize that the easy, safe route would never be for him.
IT’D BEEN NEARLY eight hours since Bailey received Henri’s text, and he was still no closer to deciding what he wanted to do. Of course, Xander’s initial suggestion had been to text back and think about the consequences later, but that wasn’t the way Bailey worked.
He wanted a minute to think about this, a minute to decide whether this was a path he wanted to go down now that alcohol was not involved. But as he sat on his back deck staring off into the trees of his property, he realized it must’ve been, if he was still thinking about it all this time later.
Bailey sighed and unlocked his phone, then he pulled open the message Henri had sent and stared at the keyboard.
Am I really going to do this? That was the million-dollar question here, because as soon as he wrote back, as soon as he acknowledged that he’d received this message, there was no taking it back, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.
God, what was it about Henri that made Bailey want to throw out all of his usual rules and just see where this crazy attraction took them? Because that was what this was: absolute craziness.
There was a list a mile long as to why he shouldn’t do what he was about to do, and somewhere at the top of that list was the fact that Henri was one of his friend’s ex-boyfriends. But just like all the other reasons he knew he should walk away, Bailey found himself shoving it aside in pursuit of what he really wanted—and that was Henri.
Deciding it was now or never, Bailey typed out two words—Call me—and then quickly hit send before he could change his mind. When the word delivered appeared under his message, he wondered how long Henri would make him wait.
A few minutes. A few hours. A couple of days, maybe? Bailey had no idea, but just as it had been for the past two weeks, his mind was now one hundred percent consumed by a virtual stranger, and he had to wonder what kind of power Henri possessed to make him feel that way.
Bailey grabbed his beer off the side table on the deck and took a long, hard pull of it, continuing his stare-off with his phone, and when the screen lit up and it began to ring a second later, he almost dropped it to the ground from the shock.
Shit. Fuck. Shit. Bailey wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but Henri calling him back right away had not been it. If anything, he thought he might get some smartass, sexy text reply. But no, as he sat there staring at the ringing phone in his hand, he realized he was getting exactly what he’d asked for—Henri, calling him.
Bailey took a deep breath and then quickly let it out before he hit accept on the phone and brought it up to his ear. “Hello.”
“Good afternoon, officer.” Henri’s voice was smooth as honey through the phone, and Bailey shut his eyes, picturing the mouth that had just spoken. “I can’t decide if I’m happy or not that you texted me back. I was kind of looking forward to coming up with a reason for you to use your handcuffs.”
Bailey’s fingers tightened around the neck of his beer bottle as he pictured that scenario playing out in his head. He’d never been turned on by the idea of restraining someone that way with his cuffs, but as his dick stiffened between his legs, he was starting to realize that maybe it had to do with whom it was he’d be restraining.
“Do I even want to imagine the scenarios you came up with?”
Henri’s chuckle was raspy and pure sex, and Bailey bit down on his lip in an effort not to groan.
“I don’t know, do you?”
Bailey grinned despite himself, and took a quick swig of his beer before saying, “You wanted to talk?”
“I want to do a lot more than talk. But I figure that’s where I need to start, considering how I left things between us.”
It was on the tip of Bailey’s tongue to ask why Henri had left things that way, but since they were little more than acquaintances, he figured he’d leave that for some other time. “And what makes you think I’d want to talk to you after everything that’s happened?”
“Hmm. I don’t know. Blind hope? Pure stupidity? Take your pick; I’m thinking both apply.”
The response was so unexpected that a bark of laughter escaped Bailey before he could help himself. Add charm to all the other reasons Henri was trouble with a capital T.
“Come on, Bailey,” Henri said, and the sound of his name on that tongue made Bailey’s pulse speed up. “Let me take you to dinner.”
“To dinner?”
“Mhmm.” The rumble that filtered through the phone vibrated up Bailey’s spine. “Well, we could skip it if you like. But I was trying to honor my words and actually talk to you. To do that, I think we should meet somewhere public first.”
First…? The word echoed around in Bailey’s mind as he placed his beer on the table beside him, and all he could think about was: What comes second?
He rubbed the heel of his hand over his way-too-eager cock and gritted his teeth. Jesus, they’d barely said more than a handful of words to one another, and he was ready to go; he could only imagine what it was going to be like in person. Hell, he didn’t have to imagine—he’d already given in once before, only to be passed over and left frustrated in the end.
“How do I know you’re actually going to show if I say yes?” It was a legitimate question, and the only thing that had kept Bailey from agreeing so far.
“Because I braved a face-to-face with Joel to get your number.”
And right then, Bailey knew he was doomed.
“Let me take you to dinner, Bailey.” Henri’s tone was much more persuasive this time around, or maybe that was just the way Bailey was now hearing it. “Then maybe I can clear up a few of the questions you’re not asking me.”
It’s just dinner, Bailey thought, and before he could change his mind, he said, “What time and where?”
Chapter Eleven
CONFESSION
I’ve never been really good at being polite.
But who wants to be good…or polite?
HENRI PULL
ED UP to the valet of the restaurant Exquisite and put the car in park as the young man behind the stand stepped forward, waiting for him to exit the vehicle. This wasn’t the kind of restaurant he usually frequented—he was more a bar or pub type—but he figured since he was trying to redeem himself with Bailey tonight, the least he could do was take him somewhere nice for a meal.
As he stepped out of the car, Henri looked at the wall of windows and the busy tables inside, all adorned with cream tablecloths and flickering candles, and once again thought, Yeah, this is so not my kind of place.
This restaurant actually reminded him of Priest’s Frenchman. Henri could easily imagine Julien Thornton dining inside with his two husbands, happy as can be, and maybe that was what Henri had been lacking all along for Priest: class and sophistication. He was definitely more the grungy little swamp rat.
Henri shoved that thought aside, though, as soon as it entered his head. He refused to let Priest be the reason he walked away from Bailey again tonight. He was going to go inside, eat dinner, and then—if he was lucky—he was finally going to get Bailey in a bed.
He made his way toward the front doors, and as he stepped inside, he walked over to the hostess behind the stand and aimed a roguish grin her way. She shyly smiled and then said in a soft voice designed to tantalize, “Good evening, welcome to Exquisite. How can I help you tonight?”
“Well”—Henri looked at her name badge—“Claire. I have a reservation for two under the name Boudreaux, and I was wondering if you could tell me if my table is ready.”
Claire’s smile faltered slightly at Henri’s little announcement, as did her eyes as she skimmed the list of reservations in front of her, then she nodded.
“Yes, okay. I see you right here. The other member of your party hasn’t arrived yet. Would you like to take a seat now and wait for her? Or would you like to go and get a drink at the bar?”
“It’s actually a him, and”—he looked at the bar that stretched the entire side of one wall, but then he thought about the night of Priest’s wedding and decided he wanted this one to begin and end very differently—“I think I’ll just go and wait for him at our table.”
She nodded and gestured for him to follow her through the crowd, and as it turned out, their table was more of a booth, private yet public—in other words, it was absolutely perfect for his date with the hot cop.
Once Henri was seated, Claire let him know that a waiter would be by to take his drink order and that she would be sure to show his guest over once he arrived. Henri thanked her and watched her walk off, then he pulled out his phone to check that there were no messages from Bailey saying he would be late.
It was now ten minutes past eight, their agreed meeting time, and the thought that Bailey might stand him up to make a point had most definitely crossed Henri’s mind. But just as that idea entered his head, the front doors to the restaurant opened, and Officer Bailey stepped inside.
Fuck, the man was gorgeous. Even more so than Henri remembered, and he had an unobstructed view of Bailey’s profile. His long legs were encased in pressed grey pants tonight, and he’d paired them with a white button-up with sleeves rolled up his forearms.
The shirt was tucked in at his trim waist, making the outfit simple yet classic, as it showed off the body that Henri wanted to feel naked against his own, and as if he could feel Henri’s attention fixed on him, Bailey looked in his direction.
With his hair still buzzcut short, it emphasized the sharp, bold angles of Bailey’s features, and the stubble that lined his jaw added depth and contrast to an already stunning face. Then their eyes locked, and it was just like it had been that first time.
Instant spark.
Instant heat.
Instant animal attraction.
Henri’s cock punched at the zipper of his jeans, and when the hostess stepped around her stand with a menu, his pulse began to race. He watched with laser focus as she weaved with Bailey around the busy tables, and when she came to his booth, she placed the menu down and stepped aside for Bailey to take his seat.
As his cop slid in opposite Henri, no words were exchanged. But when their legs brushed against one another underneath the table, Henri shifted in his seat, trying to ease the throb between his legs. The move was not lost on Bailey either, if the way he licked his lips was any indication, and that response only intensified Henri’s own.
“Okay, guys, someone will be by to take your order soon. If you have any questions in the meantime, feel free to flag one of us down. If not, we hope you have a great night at Exquisite and enjoy your meal.”
As she hurried off back to her station, Henri took a moment to let his eyes slowly wander down the man sitting across from him, and when he finally dragged them back up to Bailey’s face, he noticed a slight tinge to his cop’s cheeks and smirked. “I thought for a minute there you were going to stand me up.”
Bailey eyed him closely, his silence only adding fuel to the fire already simmering between them. “It would serve you right if I had, wouldn’t it?”
Henri’s lips curved at the bite of frustration in that tone, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Bailey’s annoyance was because of him skipping out that night or from the frustration that’d been left behind.
“I suppose it would’ve. But if you’d done that, then neither of us would finally get what we want tonight, would we?”
“And what is it that you think I want?”
Henri looked around at the tables. Directly to their right were a man and woman sipping on glasses of wine as they talked politely to one another, and behind them was an equally refined group of four who were more than likely there on a double date.
This kind of environment was so foreign to Henri that he might as well have been on another planet, and he had a feeling that Bailey knew that. Henri was not the kind of guy to wine and dine someone and hope for a polite little kiss at the end of the night.
He was the guy at the bar eyeing up his prey, knowing without a doubt he’d have what he wanted back in his bed—if that was what he wanted—and he wanted Bailey.
He’d wanted him that first night, and every night since, and as he sat there trying to put on a polite version of himself for Bailey, he thought, Fuck that shit.
Bailey had been attracted to him that night. Not some guy who sweet-talked him through a meal. He’d wanted the anonymous stranger who promised him a hot fuck with no strings attached, and that was exactly what Henri was going to offer.
Henri brought his eyes back to Bailey’s and leaned across the table a fraction. “I think you want what you didn’t get the first time we met.” Bailey’s eyes zeroed in on his mouth, and Henri touched the tip of his tongue to his top lip. “You want a night where you can forget what it’s like to be good. Where you don’t have to be a cop, you don’t have to follow any rules, and you don’t even have to be you…if you don’t want to be.”
As his words lingered in the air between them, the desire swirling in Bailey’s eyes told Henri he was spot-on.
“I can still give you that,” Henri said. “If that’s what you want. All you have to do is say the words, and I’m there. So, officer, what’s it going to be?”
DINNER. THAT’S WHAT it’s going to be, Bailey reminded himself. With his dark features and daring eyes, Henri brought to mind a sinful seducer who always got what he wanted, and for some unexplainable reason, that just happened to be Bailey.
In stunning contrast to the usual black get-up Henri wore, he’d dressed in a scarlet button-down shirt tonight, and had flipped up the cuffs at his wrists and left the neck open two buttons down. He had a braided strap of black leather around his left wrist, and those silver rings and that piercing glinted in the candlelight. All of a sudden, Xander’s little bet that there was more silver beneath those clothes came to mind, which had Bailey’s eyes darting back up to Henri’s face.
Henri’s knowing smirk made it impossible for Bailey to think of anything other than how his lips would taste, and that was t
he only excuse he could come up with as to why he said, “I want that night.”
That devilish grin morphed into a dangerous smile that made Bailey’s heart thump harder and faster than it ever had before, and when Henri looked to the menu in his hand and said, “And do you want dinner?” the word no was out of Bailey’s mouth before he could think twice.
Henri lounged back in the booth, those gleaming eyes sweeping over the rest of the crowd eating and drinking the night away, then he looked back to Bailey and said, “If we leave now, without ordering a drink or any food, everyone in here is going to know exactly why.”
Bailey agreed. He’d already noticed several other customers glancing in their direction. Not that he was all that surprised; Henri was hard to ignore, and dressed as he was tonight, it was close to impossible not to notice him.
“Does that bother you? That the good, respectable people sitting here in this restaurant are going to know that we’re going home to fuck? That you couldn’t wait, not even through one drink?”
Bailey sucked in a breath. Henri’s words were unlike anything anyone had ever said to him before, and something about that was both freeing and incredibly arousing. It made him want to throw everything he would typically do aside and just…go for it.
“And how are they going to know that?” Bailey said, neither confirming nor denying that Henri’s plan was exactly what he wanted.
Henri slid out from his side of the booth, and as he straightened to his full height beside the table, Bailey saw several customers look in their direction. He didn’t care, though; his attention was fixated on Henri, who now had one hand on the back of his seat and the other on the table.
Henri leaned down until his lips were mere inches from Bailey’s. “They’re going to know because you’re looking at me like you can’t wait to get under me.”
Bailey wet his suddenly dry lips with the tip of his tongue, and Henri made a sound in the back of his throat that was so damn sexy that Bailey’s erection tested the zipper of his pants.