Page 62 of Hot for Teacher
“And you’re good at it,” Chase added.
“Some would disagree.”
Chase rested his head against Killian’s shoulder. “I don’t know what I’m good at.”
“I recall you being a very good student,” Killian told him, trying not to sound like a complete pervert and failing miserably.
“Yeah, maybe, but I’m the same in all my classes. I’m a decent student, but I don’t excel at anything in particular.”
“And you’re not going into the family business? I’m not dining with a future real estate mogul?” Killian teased.
Chase shook his head without so much as a smile. “He’s never mentioned. And—” Chase lifted his head, tensing under Killian’s arm. “Um. Well. Speak of the devil.”
Killian followed Chase’s alarmed gaze to find a middle-aged man approaching their table. “Is that your father?”
Killian didn’t know what he’d do if it was. From the little he’d learned, he’d come to loathe Chase’s parents. Killian didn’t think he could be the slightest bit civil, even for Chase’s sake.
“No.” Chase sat up straighter, but Killian kept his arm around him because fuck if he was going to let some stranger scare him into doing otherwise, and he knew Chase was too polite to blatantly shrug him off. “It’s one of his business acquaintances. I’ve had to sit through so many dinners with him.”
The man arrived. He was one of those aggressively fit men in their late fifties that Phoenix overflowed with in the winter, overly tanned in a way that suggested many hours spent on one golf course or another. “Chase, my boy,” he boomed, louder than Killian deemed necessary. “I thought that was you.”
Chase smiled at him politely. His voice, when he spoke, was firm and easy. “Mr. Hansen. It’s good to see you.”
Mr. Hansen’s gaze kept darting between the two of them, and while he was too mannered to blatantly sniff the air, Killian saw his nostrils flare. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”
Chase cleared his throat. Perhaps he was realizing that he reeked of Killian’s pheromones. “Oh, no. Mr. Hansen, this is—”
“Professor Killian Burke, pleasure to meet you,” Killian broke in, holding out the hand not currently wrapped around Chase’s shoulder.
Mr. Hansen didn’t attempt to hide his surprise as he shook Killian’s hand. “Professor, you say? Pleasure, I’m sure. Well, I’ll let you two get on with it. Until next time, Chase.” He made as if to leave, then turned back, a slight edge to his voice. “I can’t wait to tell your father I ran into you. He’ll be so … delighted.”
Chase made some vague sound of assent, and Mr. Hansen walked off with a beaming smile, joining a small group leaving the restaurant.
Chase watched him until he was out the door. “I guess he’s going into Phoenix real estate too,” he said dully.
Their food arrived shortly after, but the easy flow to their evening had been altered. Chase was clearly distracted. He seemed to be waiting for the other shoe to drop, as if Mr. Hansen was going to return at any moment and interrogate him further.
Killian wasn’t sure what the issue was, exactly. It could be weeks before the smarmy asshole spoke to Chase’s father, and Chase’s father didn’t seem that interested in his son’s life in the first place.
But Killian didn’t press. If the publicity was what Chase was worried about, it was possible going slow was no longer an option.
For now, Killian put it out of his mind and focused on helping his beta relax again.
19
Chase
Chase was feeling almost normal by the time they got back to Killian’s house for dinner.
Seeing Mr. Hansen had been … odd, and not just because it had been so unexpected. The guy wasn’t exactly Chase’s favorite business associate of his father’s by any means. He was one of those alphas who seemed to think the world was their oyster based solely on the natural advantage of their designation.
And he’d looked at Chase in a way Chase hadn’t liked, back at the restaurant. It had been subtle, but there’d been a kind of calculating, judgmental tinge to it. It had set Chase on edge, when he’d been so happy and relaxed just moments before.
But that might have been Chase’s raw nerves making themselves known. Killian’s rut had been intense, to say the fucking least. And while part of that had been the way Chase had been pushed to his physical limit, part of it had just been … Killian. The way he’d cuddled and hand-fed Chase whenever his knot went down. The way he’d checked in with bleary eyes and slurred words during his few moments of lucidity. The way he’d triple-checked the locks every time he’d been alert enough to make the rounds, growling at every vague sound from the street.
It had been a concentrated dose of everything that already made Chase weak for him: the intensity of his focus, the strength of his desire, the softness he exuded after he exercised the aggressive lust for Chase that was always simmering just underneath the surface.
So … yeah. Chase had been a little raw. But the chicken pho and getting a breather from the rut pheromones had helped all that a bit.
