Page 32 of Troubled Skies (Blue Skies #3)

After the bread, they were served bluefin tuna belly and charred octopus, which was followed by slow-cooked Maltese lamb shoulder.

Their ninth course was a light and refreshing granita made with hand-foraged herbs that laid the groundwork for the dry-aged duck that had Adrian practically moaning as he ate each bite.

Ren was thankful their backs faced the other diners and that the table hid his twitching cock from Adrian’s view.

There was no denying that the carefully curated meal, the sounds Adrian made, along with his own heightened emotions were conspiring to tax his control.

He held out the last bite of his duck for Adrian just so he could hear the man’s pleasure as the savory meat hit his tongue.

“Oh, poussin,” Ren whispered. “What you do to me.”

With his remarkable green eyes open wide and innocent, Adrian stared at Ren and slowly licked his lips. He smiled when Ren shivered, then leaned closer, the heat of his chest searing Ren’s arm.

“You do the same to me, Your Highness.”

Though there was a tease in Adrian’s voice, it was the way his breath ghosted in Ren’s ear and brushed over the sensitive flesh that sent another cascade of shivers through Ren’s body and brought his cock fully to life.

He stared into the green fire of Adrian’s gaze and couldn’t help but reach out and run the tip of his finger along the contours of Adrian’s face.

When he realized what he was doing, he pulled his hand away as if he’d been burned.

“I am sorry, poussin, I did not mean—”

“It’s okay. I didn’t mind.” Adrian gave Ren another glimpse of that shy smile, then turned his head and took a sip of the excellent Domaine Matassa Brutal Rouge that had been poured for this course. He stared into the distance as if memorizing the view while Ren stared at him hoping to do the same.

Their server brought the first dessert course, a lavender panna cotta, that was delightfully light after the duck, but it was followed with a velvety smooth chocolate mousse made from Peruvian cacao served with a malted barley crumble, sea salt, and a small sphere of rosemary-infused gelato.

The sound that came from Adrian as he took his first taste made Ren’s cock throb, and Ren groaned.

He scooped up some of the sinful mousse with his spoon and held it out for Adrian.

His cock throbbed again as Adrian made a show of closing his lips around the sweet and slowly drawing them down the length of the spoon, all the while holding Ren captive with the heat emanating from his gorgeous green eyes.

Putain! Ren knew he was in trouble, but that didn’t stop him from continuing to feed Adrian from his plate, encouraging each sexy sound that fell from Adrian’s mouth until he had no choice but to lean forward and ask if he could kiss Adrian again.

When Adrian nodded, Ren wrapped his arms around Adrian, shifting them in their seats so they were face to face, and then…

he truly had no idea who closed the distance or if they both did, but it didn’t matter.

His mouth was on Adrian’s, the taste of dark chocolate ripe on his tongue, and the only important thing was that Adrian belonged to him again, even if it was only for a few moments.

When they parted, Adrian sat back, chest rising and falling with his quick breaths, his eyes bright with desire. “What is it about eating with you that turns food into foreplay?” he asked, and Ren laughed.

“I do not know, poussin, but I have eaten thousands of meals and never had a problem keeping my hands to myself. I think it is you who are the instigator.”

Staring at Adrian, Ren wondered if this was the time to ask him to stay, but before he had the chance, Iconic’s manager stepped up to the table. He appeared so quickly, Ren assumed he had been waiting just out of his line of sight.

“I hope that everything has been to your satisfaction, Your Highness.”

“Absolument! It was perfection. And you, Adrian?” Ren turned to him.

“It was the best meal I’ve ever had. I almost don’t want to eat anything ever again because I don’t want to ruin the memory.”

Both Ren and the manager laughed, and Ren found the blush that stained Adrian’s cheeks completely enchanting.

“I will pass your compliments on to our chef and his team,” the manager said. “And now, I hate to cut your time at Iconic short, but your driver has informed me that it is time for you to return to your yacht.”

Ren’s heart began to hammer in his chest as a wave of anxiety washed over him.

It was too soon. He wanted more time. But he displayed none of his inner turmoil as he rose from his seat and shook the manager’s hand.

“It was a pleasure,” he said as Adrian stood beside him and echoed his sentiments, and then they were back in the elevator and crossing the lobby.

The short trip back to the marina passed as if Ren were in a dream, his anxiety rising as the minutes ticked by, and each revolution of the car’s wheels brought him closer to the time he would have to say goodbye to Adrian.

He glanced at Adrian whose attention was on his phone, fingers flying as he tapped out a message to one of his friends.

The constant buzz of replies was loud in the silent back seat, and Ren longed to ask what they were talking about.

“Poussin…” Ren said softly as they passed through the marina’s gate, preparing to issue his invitation. But Adrian’s phone buzzed, and Ren lost the moment as Adrian squinted at his phone then put the device face down on his thigh, his lips drawn tight.

Rigo brought the car to a stop at the end of the dock, then got out and opened Ren’s door. Ren felt as if his body had turned to lead as he dragged himself out of the car, his heart heavy in his chest as he turned and held his hand out for Adrian.

“I’ll take you to your hotel after you get your bags,” Rigo said as Adrian emerged from the car.

Adrian nodded while Ren glared at his bodyguard.

He knew the man was only doing his job, but his words were like nails being hammered into a coffin.

Did he have to announce the finality of these moments as if it were nothing?

Could he not tell a part of Ren’s world was ending? How dare he not care?

Once again, Ren covered his internal turmoil with a practiced facade of nonchalance.

He was a playboy prince, and this had just been a momentary dalliance, a diversion from what would otherwise have been a tedious few days.

Walking toward the Belle, Ren tried his best to convince himself that that was all this had been, but the sight of Adrian’s luggage brought all of his carefully manufactured composure crashing down around him. He reached for Adrian’s hands.

“Adrian—”