“You know about the basketball?” Greg raised his eyebrows.
A traitorous heat crept up Dale’s cheeks. “I’ve heard about it,” Dale said. “I get emails from the team.”
Greg studied him carefully. “You get the newsletter because of me.”
“It’s presumptuous to assume things,” Dale said, looking at Greg’s collarbones instead. But from the corner of his eye, he caught the growing smile on Greg’s lips. Greg’s hands were large around his, comforting, and he wanted to lean closer. “Especially about your professor.”
“What if you were my omega?” Greg asked. Then he lifted Dale’s hand, dragging his lips over Dale’s knuckles, down his palm, to his wrist. Where the unmarked scent gland was.
Dale’s heart kicked. Greg still wanted to mark him. And his instincts bellowed, Yes. “I’m two decades older than you.”
“I don’t care.” Greg kissed his scent gland. Dale’s face burned.
Turned out, he wasn’t over this alpha yet.
“I’m too old for you,” Dale said. “You know that.”
“Fuck what everyone else thinks.”
“You’re saying that to your professor?”
Greg met his eyes. “You’re Dale to me now.”
He’d told Greg his name last week, when Greg had been pressed against him, their cocks sliding together. Right now, Dale’s skin felt three sizes too tight, and he couldn’t look away. “You haven’t found another omega?”
“No. I wasn’t looking.”
Greg pressed another kiss to Dale’s scent gland, his lips damp and soft. For a moment, Dale thought he might bite. His heart tripped.
He wanted Greg to mark him. It was ridiculous.
“Why me?” Dale croaked. “I’m just... I’m just another professor. I don’t know what the pregnancy risks are, but I’m sure they’re bad.”
“Stop that.” Greg frowned, biting down on the side of Dale’s palm. Dale yelped. “I’ve told you before—I like you. You’re different from the other profs.”
“You mean, I’m not as strict and competitive.”
“That too.” Greg pressed kisses onto Dale’s hand, his warmth soaking into Dale’s skin. “You’re nothing like my dad. You don’t care about the achievements. Or rankings. Or results. I don’t have to keep meeting someone else’s expectations with you. You’re all easy-going and you have that couch in your office, and those ink stains on your shirt, and you always wear the same clothes—”
Greg bit his words off, his glance cutting away. His cheeks turned ruddy.
Dale stared, his heart thumping slow and loud. “You have a crush on me,” he murmured. This, he didn’t know. He’d never had a student who was this fond of him.
Greg narrowed his eyes. “Don’t call it a crush. Sounds godawful.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“Then let me know you,” Greg whispered, his breath hot on Dale’s palm. Dale wanted to say yes. Gods, Greg’s eyes held so much want. Dale felt safe with him. He wanted to curl up with Greg, and it was wrong. They belonged on opposite sides of the lecture hall podium.
Dale gulped, pulling his hand away. “I’ll think about it,” he said. “We may be rushing into decisions.”
He rolled forward onto his feet, his limbs stiff and uncooperative. Greg slipped his hand into the crook of Dale’s elbow, steadying him.
“You really don’t have to,” Dale said.
“I’ll treat you as mine.” Greg glanced down at Dale’s belly, his gaze possessive, and a slow warmth bloomed in Dale’s gut, unfurling through his limbs.
He hadn’t realized how desperately he wanted to belong to someone.
Dale swallowed. Greg scooped up the test kits and boxes, dumping them all into the trash can. Then he turned to the sink, washing his hands. Dale stopped a foot away.
“I’m really not holding you to this,” Dale said. Greg met his eyes. “If at any point, you want out, all you have to do is—”
Greg stepped forward and kissed him, his mouth hot against Dale’s. He pulled Dale flush against his chest, dragged his wrists down Dale’s arms, down his back, rubbing right over his ass, and a thrill of pleasure shot through Dale’s nerves. He sank against Greg, trying to fill his lungs with that aspen scent.
Gods, he was insane. They weren’t even in love. This was just... chemistry. Instincts.
“Mine,” Greg whispered, sliding his tongue into Dale’s mouth. Dale moaned, pressing up against him, his body flooding with warmth. So maybe he still wanted this man. Wanted to follow Greg home.
Greg’s phone rang, a quick burst of dance music shooting through Dale’s ears. Dale jumped. Greg leaned away, frowning. “Damn it.”
When Greg pulled his phone out, Dale glanced at the screen. It read Dad, and his stomach hardened like a rock. Greg was Bernard Hastings’ son.
“He’s going to fire me,” Dale whispered, thinking about the presentation he’d done in front of Bernard Hastings four months back. He’d showcased his research group’s ongoing projects, and midway through, he’d discovered that half his slides were blank.
He’d excused himself, looked through his flash drive, and realized he’d brought along a draft copy of the presentation.
It hadn’t just been Bernard Hastings at the presentation. The school’s Board of Directors had been there, too; it had been a performance evaluation. Bernard Hastings had stared hard at Dale, and Dale had felt his tenure slip out of his grasp.
If Bernard Hastings heard about this pregnancy... Dale would lose his job, and everything he’d worked so hard for would go to waste.
Greg rejected the call, glancing back at him. “I’m not answering that right now.”
“Oh,” Dale said, his heart pattering. He needed to sit down. Take a break from his life.
“I’m not gonna tell my dad,” Greg said. “Or anyone else.”
“But your scent is all over me.”
“If you’re carrying my baby, then you can be damn sure I’ll mark you,” Greg said, narrowing his eyes. “People will leave you alone if you smell like alpha.”
“I’ve been smelling like a different alpha for two months!”
“You’re not even with her,” Greg said.
Dale looked at his hands, remembering June and her omega. There had been speculation among the lab students, and Dale had ignored it—better they thought he was with June, than with Greg. “People will talk.”
“You’re going to start looking pregnant,”
