Page 18 of Altius (The Scent of Victory #2)

Eleven

Morgan

S tanding at my kitchen island, Cal speared another bite of cranberry gingersnap pie. “Is Wyatt always such a smug little shit when he gets something he wants?”

“Language.” I sat across from Cal, answering Rory’s litany of questions about today’s game. It took five texts to reassure him that Landon was fine. We had triple-checked him before he was allowed to leave the stadium.

“Sorry. Is he always such a diminutive blowhard—”

“No height comments.”

“It’s not my fault they’re all shorter than me.” He took another bite of pie. “Shorter and smaller.”

“More boasting, or do I detect a whiff of jealousy?”

Finishing off his pie with a satisfied rumble, Cal set his plate and fork in the sink, then came around the island.

I angled toward him, but Cal ignored those few inches in favor of taking a mile, wrapping himself around my back and leaning down to nuzzle my neck.

“I suppose I am feeling a bit territorial.” Playful teeth nipped at the hinge of my jaw, overwriting Wyatt’s earlier touches. “My girlfriend is developing quite the following.”

“Is that a problem?”

Cal paused, resting his chin on my shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“Honestly,” I sighed, wriggling within his grasp. “Can we do this somewhere I can see you?”

Stepping back, Cal captured my hand, kissing my knuckles before helping me to my feet. “After you.”

I opted for the library nest. This conversation called for a reassuring fortress of pillows.

Pointing to the far corner, where a mound of cushions awaited, I said, “Sit there.”

“Yes, Dr. Van Daal.” Cal removed his glasses with a chuckle, placing them on the bookshelf.

While I made a few quick adjustments to the space—drawing the blackout curtains, turning on the fireplace, and dimming the lights—Cal deftly undid his black leather belt and pulled it off with one hand. He coiled the belt and set it beside his glasses.

“Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself?” I asked, arching a brow.

“Just getting prepared. This thing’s like luxurious quicksand. Once I’m down, I’m down,” he said, lowering himself onto the padded surface of the nest, knees popping along the way.

He took a few moments to rearrange the pillows to his liking and reclined against the reading wedge. Then I dropped down, straddling his thighs without hesitation.

He let out a surprised huff, hands circling my waist. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to be reading into things?”

“You’re not,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck, the intimacy of the gesture at odds with my clipped words. “This is serious.”

My pheromone stud needed to focus. On me—not what our bodies could do together.

His fingers toyed with the hem of my shirt. “Okay, I’m listening. With a little touching.”

I leaned against Cal’s chest and maintained steady eye contact. “Is Wyatt a dealbreaker for you?”

An easy smile spread across his face, followed by a gentle laugh. Yet there was a forced undercurrent, almost as if he resented the question. “No, he’s not.”

“Are you jealous?”

His head drifted to the side, watching the dancing flames. “It’s more…miffed, I think? Irked? His timing’s shit. The scarf swap was too risky. Too many people were watching. He should have stuck to the plan.”

“I hadn’t had a chance to explain—”

“Doesn’t matter. He should have known better than to scent-mark you at work and in public.”

“Better to save that for the tail-end of business dinners?”

“Fair point,” Cal grumbled. “But at least I did it in private.”

“On a city street.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll let it slide. You were in danger, and he’s your scent match. Probably couldn’t help himself.” Cal ran a hand through his hair. “But making a move on their new couch?”

I laughed. “You made a move on my couch.”

“Yes, I did. But your siblings weren’t in the kitchen.”

“Because they were upstairs.”

“True, but there was…a mood, a certain ambiance.”

“Yes, because there’s nothing more romantic than telling a work colleague you can’t meet one-on-one anymore right before you kiss her.”

“Knew you’d see it my way,” Cal murmured before claiming a teasing kiss.

“Hold it, big guy,” I said, scratching my nails along his neck until he behaved. “I have another question. It’s not an ultimatum or anything like that, but I want to know. Are you open to joining a pack someday?”

He nodded—without hesitation.

It was the answer I’d hoped for and almost expected, but I was surprised by the relief such a simple gesture prompted.

“Owen, Joaquin, and I have an understanding, although it hasn’t gone according to plan.

I intended to join Pack Redmond when Spencer turned eighteen.

However, Grandfather has lived longer than anyone anticipated.

Even his doctors. His heart’s been bad for years.

” Cal’s hand slipped beneath the hem of my shirt to stroke the bare skin of my back. “But plans change.”

The press of his lips against mine was firm, reassuring. Definitive.

“If you want to form a pack down the road with Wyatt and anyone else lucky enough to catch your eye, count me in.”

As my omega began to glow, reveling in the promise of our shared future, guilt scratched at the back of my throat.

“But Pack Redmond…”

They’d waited so long and worked tirelessly to get to this point, especially Owen. Buying the loft, taking gradual steps to turn it into a genuine pack home. Fulfilling a promise they made as teenagers to become a family.

It felt like I was stealing Cal from them, depriving him of the future he’d been trying to protect for his entire adult life.

“Selfishly, yes—I’d like us to join the others. But…” A large hand framed the side of my face, thumb tracing the shell of my ear. “You take priority now, Morgan. Being with you is what matters.”

“Same,” I said, rewarding his honesty with a long kiss. “And thank you. I don’t know what will happen between me and Wyatt—or anyone else. Not that I have the mental wherewithal for more men, but I wanted to be sure that you and I were okay…before I desecrate any other new furniture pieces.”

Mischief overwhelmed his amiable features. “Might I suggest Owen’s nest turned server room?”

“No.” Running my nails through his hair, I leaned forward and whispered, “And I’m not letting you fuck me in your truck, either, you perv.”

“Someone found my sticky notes, I see.” He trailed kisses along my jaw before nipping at the side of my mouth. “What about the thorough fingering. Up for that?”

“Mm.” Trailing a hand down his chest, I got distracted by his dense pecs, searching for a nipple to toy with. “I want to go to your favorite restaurant for our first date. A real date.”

“Ugh, you’re perfect.” Cal slipped off my glasses, leaving enthusiastic pecks across my cheeks and eyelids. “It’s a crab shack on the boardwalk run by an ancient pair of beta brothers. Their fried scallops are manna from heaven.”

Eager fingers pulled up my shirt, gaze growing heated as he bared my stomach and breasts to the soft flickers of firelight.

“But you have to wear the blue varsity sweater when we go. I had this vision of you when I was shopping, where you’re sitting at a picnic table at sunset, wearing that sweater and eating their spicy Cajun stew—”

His breath hitched as I stroked his nipple to hardness through his sweater.

“It’s got like seven different types of seafood in it. You’ll love it. And I’m going to take advantage of the all-you-can-eat snow crab Friday special.”

Swiping my thumb across his other nipple, I paused, offering a bemused blink. “Well, that’s specific.”

“Want to know what I was thinking when I picked out the narwhal onesie?” Cal asked with a salacious grin as he traced the waistband of my pants.

I lightly pinched both of his nipples. The hard nubs added delicious contrast to the decadent Merino wool covering his torso. “Not under penalty of death.”

“Spoilsport.” Cal rubbed his crooked nose against mine, then sank back against the pillows, giving my facial features a thorough perusal.

“What?” I asked uncertainly, resisting the urge to wipe my cheeks.

“This,” he said, slowly running a finger along my nose bridge, “is what did me in.”

“My—my nose?”

“Mhm. You were supposed to be off-limits. And being the honorable sort, I tried, I really did, not to notice you. But when your nose looks like a work of art—”

“Cal.”

While I loved that my nose was almost a carbon copy of Piper’s and our Nonna’s, it was a prominent feature: high, arched, and a little long. Nothing like Kelsey’s button nose. Piper had hated hers for years growing up.

“I’m serious,” he said. “The elegant lines, the gentle slope… It’s a masterpiece.”

I tried to silence him with a kiss, but Cal’s litany of compliments would not be deterred, his hand diving inside the cup of my bra to caress my breast.

“You’re especially attractive when you challenge me.”

Not willing to surrender control of the conversation, I changed tactics, cupping the heft of his pecs through his sweater, squeezing and kneading in time with his ministrations.

It backfired, prompting Cal to make quick work of my bra.

“Do you know how hard it is to make you laugh?” he murmured, sweeping his tongue around my left nipple, leaving pleasurable tingles in his wake. “Or how good it feels every time I do?”

His teeth raked across my sensitive flesh, prompting me to inhale sharply, fingers mangling the luxurious fibers of his sweater.

The fiery heat of his cock pulsed against my inner thigh.

“You’re gorgeous when you laugh. Did you know that?”

Cupping his cheek, I angled Cal’s lips to meet my own.

What began with the intention of making him stop talking nonsense soon spiraled into an all-consuming need, losing our underwear and pants in the process.

“Nuh-uh,” I said with a wicked grin when he reached for the hem of his sweater. “Leave it.”