Page 15 of Troubled Skies (Blue Skies #3)

eight

Ren

With his blood buzzing, Ren led the way into the restaurant where he was greeted by the owner with an embrace and kisses on both cheeks.

“If you will give me a moment, I will make sure your table is ready,” Mateu said and then disappeared through the door that led outside.

“Do you come here often?” Adrian asked him.

“My family has anchored a yacht here since my father was a boy, so I have been to most of the restaurants and bars many times over.”

“So, this yacht you are ‘picking up’ is yours.”

“My father’s.”

Ren tried to keep the bitterness caused by his sudden awareness that everything he had was because of his family from his voice, but by the way Adrian stared at him, he knew he hadn’t succeeded and that was oddly disconcerting.

For the first time in his life, he cared what someone thought of him and worried that Adrian would find him lacking.

Ren’s title meant he had never been short of companionship—neither friend nor lover—nor of people who wanted to know him, wanted him to wear their clothes or jewelry, endorse their fragrance, frequent their club.

Without his title, Ren only had himself to offer Adrian.

And if that wasn’t enough to keep this intriguing man by his side?

Ren didn’t want to think about that possibility or its implications right now.

“What does your family do?” Adrian asked.

Lost in his own thoughts, the question caught Ren off-guard. “We…run things,” he replied and was overjoyed to see Mateu come back through the door.

“Your table is ready, if you would please come with me.”

Ren motioned for Adrian to proceed him, enjoying the view as they followed Mateu into the courtyard.

Although he had been with Adrian nearly nonstop for close to twenty-four hours, very little of that time had given him an opportunity to fully appreciate the beauty of this man.

Adrian was slender, several inches shorter than his own six-two, and moved with a gentle grace that spoke not of training, but an ease in his body.

Though Ren did notice a slight limp he hadn’t seen before and wondered if that was an injury from the crash or something Adrian had had all his life.

He tucked it into the back of his head to ask later as he admired Adrian’s ass and the way the light glinted in flashes of gold and fire from his hair as they passed a window.

Mateu seated them in a back corner that was shielded from sight by an abundance of plants, and handed them menus, but Ren waved him off with a smile.

“None of that,” he said. “What does Mama have cooking today?”

“You know us too well, your—”“Pfft,” Ren cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Just bring us whatever she’s made along with two sangrias.”

“Very good.”

Mateu gave a little bow before he turned and retreated toward the kitchen while Ren glanced at Adrian to see if he’d caught the title Mateu had been about to use, but Adrian seemed unaware as he took in his surroundings.

“It’s strange,” Adrian said as he finished his perusal of the courtyard and returned his focus to Ren, something Ren found he liked very much.

He took Adrian’s right hand between both of his own and brought it to his lips. “What is strange?” he asked.

Adrian’s gaze fell to their hands, and his mouth curved into a small smile. “Yesterday, I was in LA and had no idea who you were. Now, here we are, and it feels like I’ve known you much longer.”

“I will take that as a compliment,” Ren said and pulled Adrian close enough for a kiss, nearly growling when they were interrupted by one of Mateu’s daughters bringing them their sangria.

Marina was nineteen and had had a ridiculous crush on Ren since she was a little girl and he was a teenager. She stared at him with puppy eyes, completely ignoring Adrian as she placed their glasses on the table and asked if he needed anything else.

“Non. That is all,” Ren said as he lifted his glass and raised it, waiting for Adrian to do the same before he touched the glasses together. “To what the future may bring.”

“To the future,” Adrian murmured as he brought the sangria to his lips and tasted it, his eyes growing wide at the wonderful blend of wine and fruit.

Marina returned with a basket of fresh bread and butter. She tried to catch Ren’s eye again, but he ignored her in favor of watching Adrian.

“She likes you,” Adrian said after she left the table.

Ren shrugged. “Even if she were not a child, she would not be my type.”

“She’s hardly a child.”

“C’est vrai. Not anymore, at least, but that doesn’t solve the problem that I am not interested because—”

“She’s not your type.”

“…because she is not you.”

Adrian blushed, and Ren waited for him to ask what Ren’s type was, but he remained silent. How refreshing to be with someone who did not fish for compliments or declarations!

Ren was filled with awe at how self-possessed Adrian was, how easily he adjusted to changes, and how little fuss he made when things did not go as he had planned.

Anyone of Ren’s friends would have had a tantrum at their lost luggage, called everyone in the vicinity incompetent, and threated to get whoever was responsible fired if their bags were not located immediately.

Adrian had done none of that. He’d provided the people in the tiny lounge with the information they needed to do their job and thanked them for their help in locating his bag.

The thought made Ren pause as he brought his glass to his lips, and he turned to regard Adrian.

By any measure, the man was gorgeous. Ren had seen it even in the briefest moment as he’d followed the concierge to the VIP lounge in LAX, and that instant jolt of attraction as he’d laid eyes on Adrian was seared in his memory.

As was the kiss they’d shared on the flight.

A kiss he now knew had been influenced by the sleeping pill Adrian had taken, but that kiss hadn’t been Ren’s motivation for assisting Adrian when they landed. At least not entirely.

Ren was honest enough to admit that he had hoped they would have made use of the bed in the suite at Heathrow, honest enough to admit he still hoped they would share more than kisses when they got on the yacht.

But he was also aware his interest in Adrian was not only sexual.

Their conversation on the plane had been delightful, Ren thrilled to be the object of Adrian’s attention.

In only a few hours, Adrian had managed to captivate Ren in a way no one else ever had.

It galled him that their time together in Ibiza was so limited.

He wished it were possible to ask Adrian to accompany him to the Maldives, but Ren was realistic enough to know his father would not approve in the least.

“I wish we had more time,” Ren murmured, and the way Adrian gazed at him in response made him believe Adrian felt the same way.

Before he could ask, though, Mateu returned with sofrit pages, a stew full of savory sausages and cubes of lamb and big chunks of potato in a rich sauce that he ladled into their bowls, fragrant steam perfuming the air.

Ren expressed his gratitude for the food as Mateu hovered waiting for them to take their first bite.

“Oh my God,” Adrian moaned as he went in for a second bite, then a third. “This is amazing.”

Mateu beamed, bowed to them, and told them he would let his mother know they were enjoying her food.

Adrian barely stopped to breathe as he ate, the soft moans he made causing Ren to shift in his seat as they went straight to his dick.

In short order, Adrian was chasing the last bits of the stew around his bowl with a bit of bread while Ren was only halfway done with his meal.

He’d been too distracted by watching Adrian and trying to keep himself under control at the sounds of his pleasure.

Mon Dieu! If Adrian made those sounds over Rachel’s dinner, he would barely be able to control himself.

A flicker of hope warmed Ren’s heart that he would get to find out what Adrian sounded like in the throes of sexual pleasure as well.

“Do you have time for dessert?” Mateu asked as he stepped into their alcove to collect the bowls and tureen.

Ren checked his watch, then looked at Adrian. “We need to go next door, but we will return if we have time. D’accord?”

“The shopping will be quick,” Adrian said. “I don’t need that much. Just a few things to tide me over until my suitcase makes it.”

“Bon. Then we will return after we shop.” Ren said that last to Mateu as he stood and held out his hand for Adrian, a thrill running through him as Adrian took it without hesitation and let him lead the way to the boutique.

As Adrian began to sort through the clothing on display, Ren noticed a deepening frown forming on his beautiful face.

“Are you all right, mon cher?” Ren asked. “Are these clothes not to your liking? Would you like to go elsewhere?”

Adrian shook his head. “This is fine.” He reached for a plain white T-shirt, his face going pale as he glanced at the price tag. “Three hundred euros?”

“Oui.” Ren took the T-shirt off the rack and held it up to Adrian’s torso. “It’s Marcelo Burlon. Come. This is only one shirt, and you cannot exist with just one thing in your wardrobe.”

“But—”

“Non, we don’t have much time if you want dessert.

” Ren was about to turn and head deeper into the store, but the expression on Adrian’s face and the way he was tugging at his hands stopped him.

He knew Adrian well enough by now to recognize the signs of anxiety, and realized Adrian was concerned about the prices.

Ah. Stepping closer to Adrian, Ren cupped the man’s chin in his hand and tilted his head back so Adrian had to meet his gaze. “Do you trust me, poussin?”

“I do, but—”