Wyatt slipped his shoes off, set them on the floor. Then he tiptoed to the kitchen, holding his plastic bag away so it didn’t rustle against him.
In the kitchen, Raph stood by the counter with his head bent, eyes closed, sniffing at the pooled wine in his glass. Then he tipped it into his mouth, savoring it.
Wyatt knew the bite of that wine, the dryness of it, the way it would slide down his gullet, all mellow and warm.
“You had to go for the Moulin Rouge,” he blurted.
Raph turned, glancing at Wyatt sidelong. Then he swallowed, licked his lips, leaving a sheen of damp on his skin. “I’ve never had it.”
“Never?” His cover blown, Wyatt stepped into the kitchen, setting his bag of food in the fridge—the buns were still edible, but weren’t fresh enough for the restaurant’s standards. He’d make sandwiches for Hazel and himself with them.
“You’d think I would, with the sort of booze Mom and Dad have at home, but no.” Raph pressed the wine stopper into the bottle, sliding it back into the wine rack. “Good, though.”
“I wanted a taste,” Wyatt said, pouting.
Raph glanced at the kitchen doorway. In a low voice, he said, “You’re pregnant.”
Wyatt’s stomach gave a jolt. It still hadn’t fully sunken in, the pregnancy. Penny had told him this morning, and he’d had some time to get used to the idea. But an actual baby in his belly? A second child in nine months’ time? Raph’s child? All of it was life-changing.
Especially when Raph had sworn he’d raise the child with Wyatt. Wyatt would see Raph again, for the rest of his life.
He didn’t know what to make of that, except it made his heart pound something fierce.
Wyatt rubbed his palm over his flat belly. “I wish I’d known two weeks in advance. Then I’d have drunken my fill before this happened.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t have a taste,” Raph said. He shrugged, glancing away, his tongue gliding over his lip. And the invitation sent a coil of heat through Wyatt’s gut.
“You have such a dirty mind,” he said.
“Not any worse than yours.”
Wyatt chuckled. Unlike the party, and unlike the drive-in, there was no one here. No one to interrupt them, no one who would judge their actions. And the rest of the night stretched ahead, full of promise.
“Drinking this late?” Wyatt asked, keeping his tone light. His pulse hammered in his veins. “I didn’t promise to be your designated driver.”
Raph met his eyes. “Should I be leaving now?”
“No.” Wyatt swallowed. Calm down. Don’t jump his bones yet. “I figured we might have things to discuss. You know, infant care, visitation, things like that.”
“I’ll be here whenever you need me.”
“Even with your work?”
Raph shrugged. “Yeah, I can take days off for family care. The benefits aren’t bad.”
“What about your boss? Grandma?” The mention of her name sent a chill down Wyatt’s spine. Growing up, Grandma had never liked him—Raph had told him why, time and again, when Wyatt had curled up in Raph’s room and cried.
She was Dad’s mom. When Wyatt was three, he’d broken her precious handmade vase, passed down from four generations ago. Two months later, Wyatt had cringed away from Grandma at Mom and Dad’s wedding. The cameraman had caught it on video, broadcast it on the screen in front of three hundred guests. Grandma hadn’t smiled at Wyatt since.
“Hey, stop thinking about her,” Raph murmured. He set the wineglass down on the counter, stepping over.
“I can only imagine what she’d say about this,” Wyatt said. The possibilities scrolled through his mind. You sick child. Raph is your stepbrother. You’d only disappoint your parents—they never raised you to be this way.
“Shh. Look at me.” Raph stopped in front of him, cupping Wyatt’s cheeks. The kitchen light cast his face in a slight shadow, and his eyes were dark, the brush of his lashes exquisite. “Live in the present, Wy. Stop remembering the past.”
“Easy for you to say.”
Raph winced. Took a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t defend you enough from Grandma. I’m sorry I didn’t rescue you from Max.”
It was never his fault—Raph had done plenty. But he was ready to accept the blame for every bad thing that had happened, and Wyatt wanted to lean against him, forget about everything else. “You’ve done enough, Raph. Really. You don’t have to apologize.”
Raph stroked Wyatt’s cheeks with his thumbs. He leaned in, pressed their foreheads together, his breath tinted with wine. Wyatt wanted to taste him, breathe him in, burrow himself in Raph’s arms, and, for the first time in a while, forget who he was.
“I don’t care what everyone else says,” Raph whispered. “I’ll love our baby. And I’ll love Hazel, too.”
Wyatt’s breath caught. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
Why was Raph doing this? Wyatt’s pulse thudded in his ears. “You can’t keep saying things like that. I’ll fall in love with you.”
“Aren’t you already?” Raph grinned, his eyes crinkling, blurred with how close they were.
“Damn you. You know we can’t—”
Raph kissed him. Unlike the moments they’d spent at the office, this kiss was slow, languid, Raph’s tongue slipping along Wyatt’s lips. Then he eased into Wyatt’s mouth, damp and soft, and Wyatt groaned, dragging him closer. Raph tasted like wine, like a hint of soup, and they shouldn’t be doing this again.
“We’re stepbrothers,” Wyatt whispered against his lips.
Raph leaned back, his eyes dark, his body a solid, comfortable weight. “Just for tonight... be my omega.”
Wyatt’s breath rushed out of him. Through the years of raising his daughter, he hadn’t met an alpha he could readily trust. There hadn’t been anyone else he wanted in his life. And Raph had walked back in during Wyatt’s heat, had touched him and fucked him, and his hands had been bliss on Wyatt’s skin.
To be Raph’s omega... To let Raph touch his entire body...
Raph pressed soft kisses up his jaw, nipping at his earlobe. “You want my knot. I saw you looking
