Chapter 8
Chase
Aknock on Chase’s open door had him looking up from his phone for the first time in an hour.
It was Spencer, dressed all in black, a jacket slung over one shoulder. “Last chance to tag along and claim me as your bartender wingman.”
“I’m good,” Chase told him. “Thought you weren’t getting the good shifts anymore?”
“Deb changed her mind,” Spencer said with a smirk. “Maybe she wants this again.” He gestured down at his body, doing something annoying with his eyebrows.
“You gonna go for it?”
Chase personally thought it was a bad idea getting involved with coworkers Spencer had to see every day, but he’d already shared his thoughts on the matter.
Spencer had let his dick lead the way, as per usual.
And then paid the price when Deb had stuck him with the early weeknight shifts with all the shitty tippers.
But Spencer shook his head. “Nah. She got kind of mean when I didn’t call. Even though I told her what it was.” He frowned down at his feet. “It’s always like that. Hella annoying.”
“Hey.” Chase straightened from his slouch. “You know you don’t have to put up with that, right?”
“I kinda do. She’s my manager.”
“No, I mean … People being dicks to you. If it’s consensual and you made your boundaries clear, then don’t let them guilt-trip you for what you don’t want.”
“Aw, you’re such a sweetie pie, Chasey.” Spencer grinned, immediately shaking off his funk. It was always that easy with him. Chase envied him the quick turnaround. “Hope whoever you’re waiting on tonight treats you right.” He pointed a finger at Chase. “They’ll answer to me if they don’t.”
Spencer spun on his heel, his jacket whirling in the air as he walked away.
“Hey!” Chase called after him. “How do you know I’m waiting on someone?”
His only answer was the sound of maniacal cackling, then the front door closing.
Chase frowned down at his phone, then tossed it face down on his bed. Him staring at it like an idiot for hours was probably how Spencer had known Chase was hoping for a text from … someone.
But Burke was either going to text or he wasn’t, and Chase staying glued to his phone wasn’t going to change the outcome. Chase needed a distraction.
He settled for organizing his closet.
Since Chase’s parents were fronting the majority of their rent, Noah and Spencer had insisted on giving Chase the biggest room, which meant he had the biggest closet.
Sometimes his roommates’ stuff seemed to migrate into it.
The thing was Chase had never seen either of them actually put anything in there.
It was like the objects moved on their own in the middle of the night.
Like this Costco-sized box of condoms Chase had definitely not purchased himself.
He briefly considered pocketing some, but Burke had covered that side of things the night before. Tonight—if it happened at all—would probably be the same. And if it wasn’t …
What would it be like for him to fuck me bare?
All the blood in Chase’s body rushed to his dick at the thought, and he swore, tossing the box of condoms to the side. No thoughts of bareback alpha dick. You’re supposed to be distracting yourself, not ramping yourself up even more.
After he had categorized what was Spencer’s and what was Noah’s, there wasn’t much to go through, but Chase had stuffed a bunch of textbooks and notebooks from the last semester in the back corner, too lazy to do anything with them.
He took them out now, separating them into piles.
He’d toss the notebooks and take the textbooks to the used bookstore tomorrow.
He was always inexplicably tempted to keep it all, as if for some reason he’d need his illegible notes from Ancient Roman History five years down the line.
Chase sorted through what he could reach, then crawled further into his closet. There was a smallish cardboard box hiding in the back, and he couldn’t remember what was in it.
It was his lacrosse uniform.
Chase rocked back on his heels, lid in hand, weirdly surprised to see it. He was pretty sure he’d been supposed to return it when he’d quit. Maybe he’d forgotten.
Chase lifted it out of the box, shaking out the thick fabric.
Lacrosse had been something he’d pretty much always played, thanks to a coach he’d had in elementary school, a man who’d been so warm and encouraging that Chase would have done anything to keep his attention. Including playing long after he was too old for the guy’s team.
Chase had kept with it, maybe for the sake of those memories, or maybe just for something to do—a reason to be out of his cold, empty house in his high school years.
And when he’d caught the eye of some scouts and had been offered a scholarship to college, he’d thought that maybe it would feel good, to do something on his own like that. To pay for school with his own skills. He’d even thought that maybe his parents would be proud.
But in the end, it hadn’t felt like anything at all. Chase had saved his parents money they didn’t need or care about, and the sport he’d always enjoyed as an escape became some sort of transaction instead.
Chase had ended it as mindlessly as he’d started. He’d been at an oppressively quiet Christmas Eve dinner with his parents last year, and he’d wanted something. Without having planned it at all, he’d told them he was quitting. That they’d need to pay his tuition after all.
And his father had just said, “We’ll let the accountant know,” and taken another bite of prime rib.
And that had been that. No anger. No questions. No nothing.
Chase’s coaches had been pissed, and his teammates had been disappointed, but it hadn’t been any life-destroying thing.
Chase was closer with Noah and Spencer than any of the guys he’d played with, anyway.
So there’d been no consequences at all really, other than a vague sense of dissatisfaction with himself.
And now, staring at his uniform, Chase couldn’t say how he felt. He missed his teammates every now and then. Missed the game some days more than others. But he wasn’t sad, exactly. And he wasn’t relieved either.
He should feel something, though, right? Something more than mild confusion.
Maybe in the end, he was just as empty as the people who raised him.
Chase shoved the box to the back of his closet just as his phone dinged.
It was a message from Burke.
Professor Alpha: I’m waiting.
There was something intimidating about standing on Burke’s doorstep.
The other night, Chase hadn’t had to think about it at all. He’d gone to the bar on a whim, and then he’d just … followed Burke’s lead. Chase had followed him into the car, followed him out of the car, followed him into the house.
Even going to Burke’s classroom today hadn’t been a conscious decision. Chase had just … ended up there, drawn to it like a magnet.
But now Chase had to knock. Deliberately. Or maybe press the doorbell.
Before Chase could decide on one or the other, the door opened to reveal Burke, a familiar glass of whiskey in hand. His brow furrowed as he took Chase in. “You’ve been standing on my doorstep for five minutes.”
It had not been five whole minutes, but Chase couldn’t find the words to argue because his brain had just short-circuited.
Burke was wearing casual clothes.
He had on a long-sleeved black shirt with the sleeves pushed up to the elbows and thin gray sweatpants that made it incredibly clear he wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
Burke in casual clothes. Burke barefoot. Burke’s big dick in sweatpants.
Burke stepped back from the door to make room for Chase. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Chase once, and the look in them was … hungry.
It was that look on his face that did it.
Chase stepped inside.
Burke held out his hand as he led Chase into the living room. “Keys.”
“I told you I’d stay,” Chase told him, even as he dropped his car keys into the alpha’s palm.
“And do you always do what you say you will, Chase Adler?”
“Yes.”
“Mm.” Without warning, Burke whirled and stepped close, shoving his nose into Chase’s neck. Chase hadn’t showered—hadn’t washed Burke’s scent off him—and Burke let out a satisfied grunt before stepping back. “Go to the bedroom. Clothes off, like before. I’d like you kneeling by the bed this time.”
“Yes, Alpha.”
There was no seduction. There wasn’t even a kiss this time. But something hot swirled in Chase’s belly regardless. They’d only done this once before, and already his body was associating Burke’s orders with future pleasure.
Chase let himself into the bedroom and undressed, folding his clothes neatly and placing them again on Burke’s bedside table. There was a different novel this time. Chase noted the title to look up later.
Naked, he knelt by the foot of the bed, his bare ass resting on his calves. After a moment of deliberation, he set his hands palm down on his thighs. The position would get uncomfortable fairly quickly, but that was fine. Chase didn’t mind a bit of discomfort.
It didn’t matter anyway—he wasn’t left waiting long.
Burke appeared in the doorway after hardly a few minutes had passed, still fully dressed besides his bare feet, a mostly full glass in hand. He set it carefully on the bedside table next to Chase’s clothes.
For the rest of his life, Chase was going to associate the smell of whiskey and leather with Burke, wasn’t he?
Burke was hard now, his erection outlined obscenely in his thin sweats.
And that had Chase’s own dick filling. Because they hadn’t even really touched yet, so that meant Burke was hard and aching just from the thought of what he was going to do to Chase.
And what he was going to do became quickly apparent as Burke stepped up to Chase’s kneeling form, the movement placing his erection directly in line with Chase’s face.
Burke stroked Chase’s hair back with gentle fingers, a sharp contrast to the ravenous look in his eyes. “Pretty as a picture, sweet boy.”
Chase’s belly swooped, his dick fully hard now from the combination of Burke’s heavy scent and the promise of that clothed erection.