And just because the world hated him, Greg’s assignment sat on the very top of the pile, smelling faintly like aspen. Greg would be in Dale’s classroom an hour from now.
Dale groaned, closing his eyes. They were fortunate that no one had been in that lecture hall last week. Greg was the college president’s son; there’d be eyes on him everywhere he went. And if his scent lingered on Dale... who knew what sort of rumors would spread? The president would fire his sorry ass.
Class in an hour. Get to work.
Dale cracked his eyes open, sipping some coffee. He’d added extra milk and sugar today, and it was sinfully creamy, rolling over his tongue in a burst of flavor.
He swallowed, making a decision.
He wouldn’t grade Greg’s assignment first. He’d save it for last, grade it if he had time. And if he didn’t, well. That was that.
Dale slid Greg’s homework to the bottom of the pile. Then he pulled his red pen from his white-knight pen holder, and started on the first assignment.
Fifty minutes later and still aching, Dale stepped into the undergrad classroom corridor. Students crowded the hallways, waiting for the classrooms to empty out.
Dale hugged the assignments to himself. He’d managed to grade all of them. Well, most of them. By the time he’d reached Greg’s, it was four minutes to class, and he’d shoved it back to the bottom of the pile.
Greg could probably wait. Dale would return everyone else’s first.
He wove between the chattering students, searching out his classroom. Then his neck prickled like someone was watching him.
Dale didn’t have to guess who it was; the same alpha eyed him every time. He looked up anyway.
Past the twenty-odd students between them, Greg met his eyes, his expression watchful. Dale’s pulse missed a beat. He should’ve grown used to this by now, after two months of Greg Hastings in his classes, but Dale still couldn’t believe Greg was interested.
His body hummed, needing touch. The suppressant he’d swallowed right before class still hadn’t kicked in; he wasn’t sure it would now. And it was pointless, anyway, because Greg would be able to smell his heat.
Dale wished June was still in California. She’d been posting photos of her Oregon vacation on Facebook, sipping margaritas with her fiancée, and Dale should’ve tried to tag along.
A thousand miles away from Portland, Dale was in heat, the alpha of his choice five yards away.
Greg wasn’t someone he could take home.
Dale strode past the students, past Greg, hoping none of them would pay attention to his scent. Except Greg’s eyes never left him. Dale’s insides squeezed. He still had no idea why Greg paid attention to him. Why Greg would watch him this closely, asking him out every two weeks.
He slowed down when he approached his classroom, waiting for the previous class to vacate. They were running late, too, and he needed a teacher’s desk to hide behind. Right now, he was defenseless against twenty-two-year-old alphas. Like the one prowling toward him.
His breath snagged in his throat.
Paces away, Greg’s nostrils flared, his tongue darting over his lips. Like he was sniffing at Dale. Like he wanted to drag his tongue down Dale’s chest, all the way to his cock. Maybe suck on it.
An answering heat flooded through Dale’s veins. Climb him, his body whispered. Take his cock. Fuck him.
Dale clenched his hole so he wouldn’t drip, but Greg’s lips curled in a smile. As though he could smell Dale anyway. Smell Dale’s slick, and how ready he was for Greg. Greg’s gaze dropped right to his hips, and Dale fought the urge to cover up even though he wasn’t hard.
But he was half-hard, and Greg’s smile widened.
Greg stopped inches away, his gaze raking down Dale’s body, from his throat to his hips to his shoes. He was shameless. He ogled Dale just like Dale ogled his basketball photos, so maybe that was fair.
Dale squirmed, needing more of his attention. Needing to spread for him.
With June gossiping in the lab, Dale had learned a few things about this alpha: the college president paid for his tuition and board. He scored As in his schoolwork. He played basketball thrice a week. He didn’t have a bondmate.
“Where’s your alpha?” Greg muttered, meeting his eyes. His voice sounded like rumbling thunder, and Dale wanted it growling in his ear. Against his skin.
“Alpha?” Dale blurted.
Greg’s stare sharpened.
Belatedly, Dale remembered June, how she’d dab her wrists over his face, hug him during his heats. Through the jerk-off fest over the weekend, he’d clean forgotten to buy some birch perfume. Crap. “I’m your professor. That question is hardly appropriate.”
“You’re in heat,” Greg said, his voice barely audible. His gaze dropped to the bonding scar on Dale’s neck, and Dale knew there wasn’t a trace of alpha scent on him. “You broke up with June? I haven’t seen her around.”
“Oh.” Dale gulped. “She’s on a vacation. She’ll be back soon if you need her.”
“Do you need her?” Greg’s eyes bored into his. His scent coiled into Dale’s nose, heady and musky, like loamy aspen, and Dale wanted Greg pressed up against him. Fucking him up against the wall.
The bell screamed above his head.
Dale jumped, his heart crashing into his ribs. Time for class. He was a professor, and all it took was one student to upset his life. He still had this last class to get through. Then he was done for today, and he’d be free to lock himself away and jerk off. Rinse and repeat for the rest of the week.
Gods, he hated being in heat.
He eased away from Greg, watching as students from the previous class streamed out of his classroom. The air filled with the floral scents of omegas, the grassy scents of betas, the woodsy scents of alphas.
Behind, Greg touched his wrist to Dale’s elbow. The leaving students shielded them from the rest of his class, and Greg dragged his scent gland down Dale’s
