“It would be so much easier with anyone but Penny.” Greg sighed, pressing his forehead to Dale’s. “Maybe suggest another omega to him next time.”
Dale chuckled, brushing his lips over Greg’s cheek. “Okay. But let’s not talk about that.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“The onesie. We’re going to have a nursery, aren’t we? And a photo album. And we’ll need to do all the research about raising a child.”
“Yeah, we do.”
“And that’s seven months away,” Dale said, his eyes soft. “Can you believe we’ll be fine until then?”
Greg opened his mouth, hesitating. He remembered Tony again, and the flames razing up the dry curtain. Remembered Tony’s last gasping breaths. Remembered his own carelessness and stupidity, hating himself for it. “I’ll try.”
“Good,” Dale whispered, kissing him. “We’ll take things a month at a time.”
21
Dale
Despite Dale’s fervent pleas for Wednesday to vanish, it didn’t.
On Monday, he distributed the final exam through the exam hall, watching as his students scribbled on their answer sheets, tapping frantically on their calculators. Amongst them, Greg worked steadfastly through his questions, glancing up when Dale passed his desk, recognizing him by scent alone. He smiled, and Dale smiled back.
On Tuesday, Dale made pulled pork, the recipe he’d told Greg about when they’d first had dinner at El Asado. Greg kissed him when dinner was over, tasting like wine.
On Wednesday, Dale paced in his office, his attention anchored to the ticking wall clock. June had banned him from the lab, and Dale needed to take his mind off the dinner. It was three hours away.
Bernard Hastings was shrewd. He would smell his son on Dale, see the way they exchanged glances, and maybe he’d be able to deduce their relationship from that. Or maybe Penny would blurt a detail, and the truth would be laid bare. It would be a disaster.
His knees weak, Dale flopped into his chair, opening his email. The pictures of Greg in the basketball newsletters calmed him a little, allowed him to remember the games he’d attended.
Greg’s games had slowed in frequency lately; Dale had watched every one of them, though. He remembered Greg searching him out during the halftime breaks, remembered them driving to the Highton stadium to watch the NY Rockets. They’d covered their knees with a rumpled blanket and held hands beneath it, and no one had given them a second glance.
Those weeks had been a dream, and maybe with this dinner, it would all be over.
Dale wished he hadn’t accepted Bernard’s invite. It had been a stupid decision. But if he didn’t show up... Bernard Hastings would scorn him either way, wouldn’t he?
At 5 PM, the office door opened. Dale jumped. Greg stepped in, backpack slung over his shoulder, his shirt clinging to his pecs. Dale sucked in a deep breath, smiling. “How did your paper go?”
“Good. Couple of questions I wasn’t sure about.” Greg studied him, his eyes locking on Dale’s face. “You look like you’re scared to death.”
“I am.” Dale wrung his hands. “June banned me from the lab, so I’ve been stuck in here all afternoon.”
“That’s a long time.”
“I think I shouldn’t attend the dinner.”
“You probably should.” Greg winced. “My dad wouldn’t have minded if you declined, but if you accept and drop out, he’ll throw a fit.”
Dale groaned, covering his face. Bernard Hastings would fire him, wouldn’t he? “I’m still convinced he’ll find out about us.”
“He won’t.” Greg set his backpack on the couch. “You still have the scent suppressants?”
“Yes, but I don’t know if they’ll be enough.” Dale pulled the two bottles out from his drawer, setting them by his laptop. Then he rounded the desk, burrowing into Greg’s chest. “Help.”
“Help with what?” Greg locked the door with a resounding click. He wrapped his arm around Dale’s waist, pressing his palm to Dale’s chest. “Shit, your heart’s pounding.”
“You think?”
Greg pulled Dale against his own chest, one arm on his back, the other around his waist. In the tight grip of his embrace, Dale finally felt secure, felt like he wouldn’t shake out of his skin.
“Gods, you feel good,” he whispered, breathing in, then out. Greg’s scent surrounded him, all sharp aspen and musk, and it was a scent that he had come to associate with safety. Belonging. Home.
Greg’s breath puffed through his hair, warm. He pressed kisses to the top of Dale’s head, and Dale tried to sink further into his chest, mold himself to his alpha so they couldn’t be pulled apart.
“Whatever happens today, remember that I love you,” Greg murmured, running his hands up Dale’s back, then down. He worked his thumbs into the knots in Dale’s neck, easing the tension there, one spot at a time. Dale moaned.
“I need... I need more.” Dale curled into his alpha, slipping his hands under Greg’s shirt, just to feel Greg’s warm skin against his palms. Nothing mattered outside Greg’s arms. Not his job, not his tenure, not Bernard Hastings. In the heat of Greg’s body, all Dale wanted was a shred of refuge, and he found it in Greg’s lips on his ear, Greg’s fingers massaging his shoulders. “I need to relax. Or forget. Or something. Please.”
“Yeah, you do.” Greg slipped his arms around Dale’s back, scooping him off his feet. Then he stepped around the room, releasing Dale into his chair.
Before he could lean back, Dale cupped Greg’s face, pulling him close for a kiss. He wanted Greg closer. Wanted Greg to not leave him.
Greg’s lips slid soft against his. His tongue tangled with Dale’s, silky and damp, and electricity jolted down Dale’s spine. He spread his legs, inviting Greg closer. But Greg only pulled away, his gaze raking over Dale’s body.
Then he glanced sideways, at Dale’s laptop screen. Greg raised his eyebrows. “You were looking at me?”
Dale squirmed. He’d left the
