Page 18
“You’re pregnant,”
I say. Of all people, I should have seen it coming. I know exactly what happens when prime match couples go through a heat. But somehow, it didn’t occur to me. I’ve been so obsessed with the loss of Leo, that it never occurred to me that I might be losing even more.
My office suddenly feels too small and airless. One minute I’m staring at a set of legal papers telling me that Leo is filing against custody, the next he appears right in front of me as if he has sprung to life straight out of my thoughts.
He is so beautiful. He looks like an angel with that blond hair and the flush on his cheeks, and that scent... I don’t even pretend to hide the way I breathe in deep, taking it all in. It makes me want to roll my eyes back in my head with pleasure.
Leo’s face hardens, his lip curling in that defiant expression I’ve seen so many times before.
“Yes, that’s what happens when you have unprotected sex. You’re the so-called man of science. You know how it works.”
He shifts his weight, one hand unconsciously moving to his midsection before dropping away.
“I’m not here to talk about that.”
I can’t tear my eyes from the slight curve beneath his loose shirt. Our child. Growing inside him.
“We need to talk about it,”
I reply, rising from my chair, his custody filing clutched too tightly in my hand.
“Leo, this changes everything.”
“It changes nothing.”
He steps further into the office but maintains his distance.
“I’m here about the protest ban. Your press conference with Jones.”
My brain struggles to shift focus, still reeling from the confirmation that Leo is carrying my child.
“The press conference wasn’t my idea. I didn’t know—”
“Save it.”
Leo cuts me off, arms crossing over his chest.
“You literally stood next to him while he announced it.”
“I know. And I’m trying to figure out how to mitigate the damage, but right now—”
I gesture toward him.
“This is more important.”
Leo’s eyes flash.
“Not to me.”
I take a deep breath, forcing my alpha instincts to calm. To focus.
“Leo, please. Let me process all of this for a moment. You’re pregnant with my child.”
“No, not yours.”
His voice rises slightly.
“This baby is mine. I’m carrying it. I’m giving birth and I’m raising it. Without you.”
“Our child,”
I correct gently.
“And I have no intention of fighting you for custody if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Surprise flickers across his features before he schools his expression.
“Good. Because I’ll win.”
“No, you wouldn’t,”
I say gently.
“You’d want to win but you know the system as well as I do. You wouldn’t have a chance but I don’t want a legal battle, Leo. I want to be involved.”
I set the papers down on my desk, careful to keep my voice steady.
“I want to support you both. However I can. You’ll be an amazing dad. I’m not going to take that away from you, but I do expect to be involved in the raising of my—our—child.”
Leo looks skeptical.
“You want to waltz into life and play daddy with me? After everything? Are you mad?”
“I think we created a life together, and I have a responsibility to that life. To you. You can’t stay in that squat, Leo. It’s not safe, not healthy. Not for you or the baby.
“ I run a hand through my hair and draw in a deep breath, breathing the gloriousness of him in with it. “Besides, you’re about to be evicted. Jones is organizing it.”
His posture stiffens immediately.
“So that’s what this is about. Your way of forcing me into compliance?”
“What? No!”
The accusation stings more than it should.
“I have nothing to do with it. I’ve told him I disagree with it.”
“Right.”
The skepticism in his voice is palpable.
“Just like you had nothing to do with the protest ban?”
“I didn’t initiate it, no but Jones did bring me here specifically to trigger protests so he had an excuse to get rid of you all.”
The admission tastes bitter.
“That’s what I thought”
Leo’s eyes are hard.
“I have little choice.”
I choose my words carefully.
“My position here is... precarious.”
“Poor Dr Thorndike.”
Leo’s voice drips with sarcasm.
“Forced to comply with authority. How novel for you to experience what the rest of us live with daily.”
My patience frays slightly.
“Right now, I only care about you and our child, not people who prefer to shout than to listen.”
“I don’t need your protection,”
Leo snaps, but his hand drifts to his midsection again, the gesture seemingly unconscious.
“Maybe not, but you will need proper housing. Prenatal care. Financial support.”
I take a careful step toward him.
“Move in with me.”
Leo barks out a laugh, stepping back to maintain the distance between us.
“Are you insane?”
“I have a spare bedroom. Two bathrooms. It would be temporary—just until you find something suitable.”
I press forward, knowing I’m pushing too hard but unable to stop myself.
“You need a safe place, Leo. Clean. Stable. With heat and reliable plumbing.”
“What I need is for you to stop trying to control my life!”
His voice rises, color flooding his cheeks.
“First you try to force a bond on me, now you’re trying to use my pregnancy to what? Move me into your territory? Mark me with your scent? Make me dependent on you?”
“That’s not—”
“This is not my fault. I’m not the one causing shit on campus,”
I interrupt, anger finally rising through me. Leo shuts his mouth and stares at me. Through everything, I’ve never shouted at him. Maybe I’ve been an asshole in other ways but he’s never seen me angry.
“Tell your activist friends to stop destroying university property. Someone smashed a stained glass window in the humanities building last night. It was over a hundred and fifty years old, irreplaceable. Admissions have dropped by over thirteen because students don’t know if you’re going to block them out of lectures. How is Jones supposed to react to that? Yes, he’s a dick but what is he supposed to do? Give you a pat on the head? Bring you tea and cake?”
Leo’s brow furrows.
“He can give us what we’re asking for. It’s not complicated. And I haven’t smashed any windows. Don’t put that on me.”
“Then you won’t have a problem denouncing it,”
I counter.
“Help me help you, Leo. If you can get people to tone it down, then the administration won’t push back so hard. I’m on your side here. I’m happy to help but—”
“But I need to do as you say,”
Leo shakes his head. His eyes narrow.
“No thank you. I’d rather take my chances with the eviction.”
“Dammit, Leo!”
I slam my hand on the desk, alpha pheromones flooding the room as my control slips again. He drives me insane.
“Why must you fight me on everything? Even when I’m trying to help?”
Leo doesn’t back down. I’m starting to think he doesn’t know how. Instead, he steps closer, his own scent rising to meet mine.
“Help? Seriously? In what world are you helping?”
We’re too close now, barely a foot separating us. I can see green flecks in his blue eyes, count each rapid breath, even catch the subtle changes pregnancy has wrought in his scent. It’s richer, warmer, impossibly more enticing.
“It is help,”
I say, my voice dropping lower despite my best intentions.
“With no strings. No Bureau. No bond. Just support. Safety. Stability.”
“Pretty words.”
Leo’s voice has softened too, though whether from conviction or the chemistry crackling between us, I can’t tell.
“But we both know what happens when I’m in your space. When your pheromones surround me.”
His words conjure memories of the cottage, of Leo’s heat, of his body beneath mine.
“That won’t happen again,”
I promise, though my body betrays me with a surge of desire.
“Not unless you want it to.”
“Want has never been our problem.”
Leo’s eyes drop to my mouth before snapping back up.
A shiver of lust rushes through me. He wants me. He’s as good as admitted it.
I don’t want you. The thought of those four words no longer hits the way it used to. It’s obvious now they were a lie.
Leo steps even closer, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body.
“Back out of Jones’s press conferences. Publicly oppose the protest ban. Put action behind your supposed ethics.”
“My position here—”
“Is more important than the right thing,”
Leo’s disappointment in me is palpable.
“Some things never change.”
“It’s not that simple,”
I argue, fighting the urge to reach for him, to pull him against me.
“Poor .”
Leo’s voice drops to a whisper, sarcasm threading through.
“Always trapped by circumstances beyond your control.”
But he doesn’t step away. He doesn’t increase the dangerous proximity between us.
“I can’t trust you,”
he adds softly.
“You don’t have to trust me to accept my help,”
I reply, equally quiet.
“Let me at least make sure you and the baby are safe.”
“And what do you get out of it?”
His eyes search mine, looking for the trap.
“The knowledge that my child isn’t being raised in a condemned building with no heat or reliable plumbing.”
I want to touch him so badly my fingers ache.
“The chance to be part of my baby’s life from the beginning.”
Leo’s scent shifts subtly, the sharp edge of anger mellowing. His eyes drop to my mouth again, lingering this time.
“Leo,”
I say, his name in a way that sounds like a warning and a plea at the same time.
“I hate that you’re here,”
he whispers, swaying slightly closer.
“On my campus, complicating everything.”
“I know.”
I don’t move.
“But I’m not going anywhere. Not now.”
“Because of the baby.”
It’s not quite a question.
“Because of the baby,”
I confirm.
“And because of you.”
His breath catches.
“There is no ‘because of me.’ That ship sailed when you had me dragged away in handcuffs.”
“And yet here we are.”
I risk raising my hand, not touching him, but letting it hover near his face.
“Chemistry,”
Leo says dismissively, but he doesn’t move away from my hand.
“Nothing more.”
“Is that what you tell yourself when you dream of me?”
Leo’s eyes widen, then narrow.
“You assume a lot.”
“I observe.”
My fingers ghost along his jawline, not quite touching, but close enough to feel the heat of his skin.
“Your pupils are dilated. Your breathing has quickened. Your scent has changed since you entered this room.”
“Basic biology.”
His voice is steady, but the pulse at his throat gives him away.
“Pregnancy hormones.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now?”
For a moment, I think he’ll step away and break the spell. But instead, Leo does the unexpected. He closes the distance between us, one hand fisting in my shirt as his lips crash against mine.
The kiss is pure fire, explosive and demanding. It’s nothing like the desperate couplings of his heat cycle or the cruel goodbye he delivered before walking away from the cottage. This is pure Leo. It’s fierce and unapologetic, challenging me even as he claims my mouth.
My arms wrap around him instinctively, pulling him flush against me, mindful of his belly even as desire clouds my thoughts. His scent surrounds me, intoxicating in its intensity.
He breaks the kiss first, breathing hard, eyes wide as if surprised by his own actions.
“This doesn’t change anything,”
he warns, but makes no move to extract himself from my embrace.
I’ve heard that line before, but I’m not going to say that. We are so close.
“You want me,”
I counter, my hands roam his back, memorizing the new curves of his body.
“You want me the same way that I want you.”
His answer is another kiss, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that makes my knees weak. I back him against the desk, hands moving to his hips, lifting him onto the scarred surface without breaking the kiss.
“Lock the door,”
he gasps against my mouth.
I reach behind me blindly, fumbling for the lock, miserable at stepping away even for a second. The bolt slides home and Leo’s hands are immediately at my tie, loosening it with impatient fingers.
“This is a terrible idea,”
he says, even as he works the buttons of my shirt.
“Probably,”
I agree, my hands sliding under his shirt, finding the warm skin beneath.
“Do you want to stop?”
I want him to admit he wants this.
His eyes meet mine, conflicted but certain. “No.”
“That’s what I thought.”
I capture his mouth again, pouring months of longing and frustration into the kiss. My hands explore the changes in his body: the slight swell of his belly and a new sensitivity that makes him gasp when my thumbs brush his nipples.
“Too many clothes,”
Leo mutters, tugging at my shirt impatiently.
We strip in instants and then he’s naked on my desk, the evidence of our child impossible to ignore.
“You’re beautiful,”
I breathe, unable to stop myself from pressing a hand to the curve of his belly.
Leo’s expression flickers. “Don’t,”
he warns.
“Don’t make this about that.”
“This is about us,”
I assure him. “Just us.”
My hands move to safer territory—the softness of his ass—as I reclaim his mouth. Leo responds with renewed intensity, his legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me closer, the hard evidence of his arousal pressing against mine.
“I’ve dreamed about this,”
I confess against his throat, trailing kisses down to his collarbone.
“About you. Every night since you walked away.”
“Shut up,”
Leo groans, his head falling back to give me better access.
“Less talking.”
I comply, focusing instead on learning his body all over again. I know the spots that make him shiver, the touches that draw out those small, desperate sounds he tries to suppress. His skin is impossibly soft and responsive to every caress.
Leo’s hands are equally busy, dragging blunt nails down my back, squeezing my shoulders, tangling in my hair to direct my mouth where he wants it. There’s nothing passive about his participation. He takes as much as he gives, dominating even from his position on the desk.
“Come here,”
Leo commands, reaching for me.
I step between his spread thighs, groaning as our bodies align perfectly. The sensation of his skin against mine is electric. We’re crossing a line we can never uncross. He’s the one who started this. There’s no heat and no cottage. He came to my office and he kissed me.
“Tell me what you want,”
I murmur against his ear, hands running down his sides to grip his hips.
“What you need.”
I want to hear him say it.
“You,”
Leo admits, the single syllable seeming to cost him.
“Inside me. Now.”
The raw need in his voice nearly undoes me, but still I wait. I want to make him beg.
Leo shakes his head.
“What are you waiting for? I’m already fucking pregnant.”
His hand wraps around me, guiding me where he wants me.
“Just fuck me.”
As begging goes, that’ll do. I’m not a patient man.
I claim his mouth in a searing kiss as I position myself at his entrance, finding him already slick and ready. His body is prepared for me. It is designed for this.
I enter him slowly, reverently, watching his face. Leo’s eyes flutter closed, his lips parting on a soundless gasp as I fill him inch by careful inch.
“Yes,”
he breathes when I’m fully seated within him.
“God, .”
Hearing my name on his lips after so long is its own kind of ecstasy. I begin to move, establishing a rhythm that’s neither too gentle nor too rough, mindful of his condition even as desire threatens to overwhelm my control. I’m going to make him want me so bad, he’s never going to leave again.
Leo’s legs wrap tighter around my waist, his heels digging into my lower back, urging me deeper. His hands clutch my shoulders, nails leaving indentations in my skin.
“Harder,”
he demands. My omega is never content to be passive.
“I won’t break.”
I comply, increasing the force of my thrusts, bracing one hand on the desk beside his hip while the other tangles in his hair. The desk creaks beneath us, pens and papers scattering to the floor.
“Look at me,”
I command.
He obeys his eyes wide open and dark with desire.
“I’ve missed you,”
I confess, the words torn from somewhere deep inside me.
“Every day. Every night.”
“Shut up,”
he says. He’s breathing hitching in a way that tells me he’s close. I slip a hand between us, wrapping around him, matching the rhythm of my strokes to my thrusts.
“,”
he gasps, the sound of my name a warning, a plea.
“I’m going to—”
“Yes,”
I encourage, increasing the pace, driving us both toward the edge.
“Let go. I’ve got you.”
He comes with a shuddering cry, his body clenching around mine in waves that trigger my own release. I bury my face against his neck, breathing in his scent as pleasure crashes through me, obliterating thought.
For long moments afterward, we remain entwined, breathing hard, neither willing to break the contact. My forehead rests against his, our breath mingling in the scant space between us. Leo’s hands have gentled on my shoulders, now stroking rather than clutching.
Reality intrudes gradually: the chill of the air-conditioned office on sweat-dampened skin, the uncomfortable angle of the desk edge against my thighs as I lean between his legs. I straighten slowly, reluctantly slipping free of his body, but keeping him caged within my arms.
“We should talk about this,”
I say softly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.
Leo’s expression shutters immediately.
“No. We shouldn’t.”
He pushes at my chest, creating space between us. I step back, allowing him room to slip off the desk, to begin gathering his scattered clothing.
No. He’s not doing this again. Fucking me and then walking away as if it is nothing, but even as I think it, I know that trying to push him into what I want isn’t the right way to do this.
“Are you going to pretend this didn’t happen?”
He shrugs.
“I’m sure as hell going to try.”
He moves toward the door, then hesitates, hand on the knob.
“About the new policy—”
“I’ll see what I can do,”
I promise.
“No guarantees, but... I’ll try.”
Leo nods, acknowledgment if not quite gratitude.
“And the eviction notice?”
“I have nothing to do it,”
I repeat.
“But I meant what I said about the squat not being safe for you or the baby.”
His lips tighten, but he doesn’t argue.
“I have to go,”
he says again, avoiding further discussion.
“Leo.”
I stop him before he can leave.
“Will you at least consider letting me help? With the baby? With finding you safe housing?”
He pauses, hand still on the doorknob, not looking at me. For a moment I think he’ll refuse outright. Then, he says.
“I’ll think about it.”
It’s not much. Not nearly enough. But it’s something.