Sam laughed, shocked and disbelieving. He reached into the cart, heaving up the Parmesan wheel with ease. Plenty of strength in that thin body. Sam balanced it on the corner of the cart, then turned it around. “There’s no price tag on it.”
“We’ll get it tagged at the deli,” Harris said.
Sam frowned. “You can’t be serious.”
“Damn straight I’m serious.” Harris picked up the cheese wheel, watching as Sam’s gaze fell to his biceps. “It’s not that heavy,” Harris said. Hefted the wheel. Sam gulped, still staring at his biceps. In a murmur, Harris asked, “It passes your inspection?”
Sam gave a stiff nod, his throat working. Then he met Harris’ eyes. “Um, yeah. Yes. Uh, the cheese?”
Harris laughed, warm pride welling up in his chest. “Yes, the cheese.”
So yeah, maybe he cared about Sam a little too much.
They stopped by the deli section, got the wheel weighed.
“There’s a bulk discount if you buy it whole,” the omega at the counter said.
“We’ll have it whole,” Harris said.
The omega tapped on the weighing scale, printed out a label, then pasted it on the wheel. “Here you go.”
When it was back in the cart, Sam peered at the price tag. “Nine hundred dollars?”
Harris shrugged. “How do you want to eat that thing?”
“Slowly!”
They walked down the aisles, Harris picking things off the shelves, Sam staring at the wheel of Parmesan. Then he took a picture of it with his phone.
“Want some pregnancy photos with that?” Harris asked. “You know how some omegas do those nudes with their bellies? You could have yours done with this cheese.”
Sam laughed, disbelieving. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Well, start thinking about it now.” Harris grinned. “Once you eat too much of it, you can’t sit on that block anymore.”
Sam touched his belly, his eyes glued to the cheese. Harris could understand. Back when he’d been a young alpha, wet behind the ears, he’d scrimped and saved, too. That had been when he’d bonded with Nicholas, and the future had stretched ahead of them.
These days, he’d learned to live in the moment.
At the cashier, Harris nodded at the credit card reader. “Put it on your card. I haven’t seen you make any purchases with it.”
Sam blushed a deep red. “You’ve been checking?”
The replacement credit card had arrived in the mail last week. Harris had handed it to Sam, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“Yeah,” Harris said. “I want you to be comfortable with using that card.”
Sam gulped. Then he slid the metal card into the reader, glancing at the total on the screen. Came up to a thousand dollars—not that Harris minded. Couldn’t spend that money when you were dead.
Sam signed on the card reader with shaking hands. Then they wheeled their cart out of the store, stopping by the trunk of the Porsche. Above, the sky was turning dark, the moon hanging low above the trees.
“That’s a lot of money,” Sam breathed. “And... and the cheese. Thank you.”
“Consider it a gift,” Harris said. “From Valen and I.”
Carefully, he set the cheese into the trunk. Fit their other grocery purchases on top of it.
“I can’t believe there’s still space in there,” Sam said. “I always thought sports cars had tiny trunks.”
Harris grinned. He opened the passenger door for Sam, waited until Sam was inside, then shut the door. Got into the driver’s seat.
In the dimness of the car, Sam’s pupils were dilated. “That was... a cheesy gift,” he said.
Harris laughed. “It was.”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to keep thanking us.” Harris smiled. “You’re Valen’s omega, aren’t you?”
“And...” Sam wet his lips, his gaze locked with Harris’.
In the small, closed space of the car, all Harris smelled was dahlia, and honey.
“And?” Harris whispered. Glanced at Sam’s lips, wondering if Sam would open for him if they kissed.
“And, um.” Sam looked away. Faint musk bloomed from his skin.
He wanted Harris, then. And Harris wasn’t sure he should make any moves on Sam. He’d drawn Sam close, so Valen would have an omega to focus on, someone better suited to himself.
But looking at Sam, at the sensitive skin of his throat, at the open desire in his eyes, Harris wasn’t sure how long he could turn Sam away. He wanted to breathe the dahlia off Sam’s skin, wanted to taste the salt of his sweat. Wanted to mark Sam’s belly with his scent, because Harris had come to think of Sam as his own.
What if he took Sam for himself? Touched him, made him come? What if he opened his own heart to Sam?
Valen wanted to see that.
Harris leaned in, breathing Sam’s scent off his cheek. Felt the velvety smoothness of his skin, the coil of musk closer to his throat.
He raised his hand, touched his fingers to the pulse point on Sam’s neck. It fluttered under his fingers like the heart of a tiny creature—so fragile.
“Harris,” Sam whispered.
Harris brushed his lips over Sam’s jaw. Lingered at the corner of his mouth, Sam as still as a startled creature against him.
He doesn’t need me.
Harris dragged himself away, breathing in dahlia-scented air. “We’re going home,” he said.
Sam nodded, his pupils dilated.
As they pulled out of the parking lot, Harris wondered if he should’ve chosen differently. If he should’ve kissed Sam, when Sam craved his touch.
And maybe he was getting too close to Sam Brentwood, if he was having thoughts like these. When he’d brought Sam to the mansion, he hadn’t imagined a future with Sam. Sam wasn’t for himself.
He needed to remember that.
“Why aren’t you touching Sam?” Valen asked a week later in the bedroom, while they were getting ready for work.
Harris looked up. “Why’re you asking that?”
“Because I’ve seen the way you look at him,” Valen said, shrugging into his work pants. “You look like you want to pin him down and fuck him ‘til he creams. And then do it again.”
Harris winced. Valen had seen that?
“Go for it, Big H. He needs you, too.” Valen sniffed at Harris’ aftershave bottle—he always did—before he applied his own. Set the
