Page 77 of Hot for Teacher
It was with deep, belly-shaking laughter. The kind that took a moment to sound like anything at all, stuck in the person’s throat until it erupted in guffaws.
It lasted a really long time too.
Chase furrowed his brow as he watched Killian completely lose it.
Like, it wasn’tthatfunny, was it? Maybe Chase needed to put Killian to bed for real now.
“Oh, Christ.” Killian wiped at his eyes once when he’d calmed down. “Don’t tell me you’re just realizing thisnow?”
Chase stared at him in bemusement. “Should I have realized it sooner?”
The look Killian gave Chase was unbearably tender. “I guess I’d be in trouble if you had.” He rolled over, forcing Chase onto his back, laying his considerable weight on top of him. It was nice. Warm and secure. Chase wiggled underneath him, just to revel in how trapped he was.
Killian cupped Chase’s cheeks with his broad hands. There was no trace of mirth in his expression anymore. “Obsessed doesn’t begin to cover it. You have me by the balls, sweet boy.”
“How romantic.”
Killian only grinned, nuzzling Chase’s cheekbone with his nose. And then he was whispering in Chase’s ear, like it was a secret too precious for even the empty room to hear. “I’m going to claim you one day, Chase Adler. You’re going to have my ring on your finger and my mark on your neck.”
The words traveled through Chase’s body like liquid fire.
It turned out it was still painful, in its way, to be wanted this much. Like it was forcing muscles Chase had never used before to awaken after a lifetime of atrophy. But it was a welcome kind of pain. A growing pain, maybe.
Killian was somehow still hard, his cock resting heavily on Chase’s hip. Chase widened his legs in invitation. “You saidyou’d do it all again after taking me to bed,” he reminded Killian.
Even after what they’d done in the living room, Chase craved it. He craved the reassurance of it, his alpha’s cock and his alpha’s praise.
Killian hummed his pleasure, grabbing a pillow and tucking it under Chase’s hips without losing any of their skin-to-skin contact. “What a good fucking boy you are, Chase Adler.”
Chase satat the kitchen table, his phone in front of him. Looming. Or as much as a small rectangle could loom while placed horizontal on a table.
A glass of orange juice appeared next to it, and Chase gave Killian a brief, tired smile. “Thank you.”
Killian remained standing behind him, his warm, possessive hand resting on the nape of Chase’s neck. “I’m going to start breakfast, but I’ll be right here.”
“I know.”
Chase had originally suggested making the call outside, but one look at Killian’s face and he’d recanted immediately. Apparently his alpha was feeling protective, and Chase was feeling vulnerable enough to allow it.
Neither of them had really slept long enough considering how late they’d been up the night before, and their fatigue was showing. Killian was already on his third cup of coffee in almost as many minutes, and no doubt he’d be bullying Chase into a nap later in the afternoon.
That sounded fucking perfect, actually. Chase’s eyelids were heavier than they should have been, and for the first time, he envied Killian his caffeine addiction.
But before breakfast or naps or any of the rest of it, Chaseneeded to take care of this. He didn’t want the mess with his parents lingering at the back of his mind, distracting him from getting resettled with the man he’d just decided to commit to a future with.
Chase picked up his phone, quickly unblocking his parents’ contacts. Whatever messages they might have sent him while he’d had them blocked were lost forever. And there was always the strong possibility they’d hadn’t tried to contact him at all.
Maybe it was better not knowing.
Chase hit his mother’s number, not sure if he was surprised or not when she picked up quickly. It wasn’t like she’d ever refused his calls. She just hadn’t made many herself.
“Chase,” his mother greeted calmly, no hint of emotion in her voice that might point to how she’d been feeling about not being able to reach her son for a week. “Your father’s quite upset.”
“I know. So am I.”
His mother’s sigh was genteel enough to sound calculated. “I understand he spoke with you in anger, but really, we’re both quite concerned.”
Concerned? That was a funny choice of word. They’d never seemed concerned with very much when it came to him before. When he’d been a child crying over a scraped knee, it had always been the nanny who’d come to put the Band-Aid on over the wound.
