The Alpha's Cranberry-Kissed Omega: An M/M Non-Shifter Mpreg Romance (Alpha Kissed Book 3)

by Lorelei M. Hart

  My mind drifted back to Hal. I glanced at my watch, mentally groaning at the long hand pointing to the four.

  While we cuddled, his knot still deep inside me, he’d sung me to sleep. I could be myself with him. I could open up and simply be a human, instead of the obtuse doctor who scribbled notes, while other people practically opened their chest cavity and showed me their souls.

  I looked at Erik who had clearly been talking to me. Shit.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  He furrowed his eyebrow but then chuckled, his eyes still red with emotion. “It’s early. We won’t keep you any longer. Thanks for coming to listen. You can bill us for the hour. Isaac would’ve needed this week anyway.”

  I waved him off. “No, it’s fine. But if you have trouble coping, please, call my office and I’ll give you a reference for a family counselor—someone who specializes in adults.”

  When they closed the door behind me, I stood on the stoop, not knowing which way to turn. Before Hal, I would’ve gone to the lounge and relaxed with a few glasses of bourbon, but I didn’t need that anymore. What I needed was my alpha’s arms wrapped around me and his deep bass in my ear.

  Except, I’d left when he was asleep and now felt awkward wanting to go back.

  Again, the thought of Hal made me brazen, and I walked to my car, texting all the way.

  Sorry about leaving. Want to come to my house to have breakfast? Maybe burn off the calories after?

  I giggled at myself and how silly I’d become.

  Two dates and I was a goner—big-time.

  By the time I arrived at home, I’d received two texts, and I lit up inside when I saw they were both from him.

  Missing you in my bed this morning.

  Breakfast sounds great. I’m on my way.

  Good thing I had eggs and bread and coffee. I would make my alpha French toast and coffee and then tell him about my night.

  I hoped he knew how much having him meant to me.

  I would make him know.

  Chapter Nine

  Hal

  I woke up alone. That had not been the plan, and for a few minutes my mind raced with possible reasons my omega would have left. The obvious one, that our night was great only in my head stung the most, and was not the usual thought for a guy like me who’d rarely been accused of humility.

  But I’d never felt so much at stake, either.

  After torturing myself with unpleasant scenarios for a while, I rolled over to sit up and spotted the card on the nightstand. He’d had to work. I hadn’t considered that a counselor would be called out in the night, but now that I thought of it, it made sense. He couldn’t have had very much sleep, either.

  A few texts later, I was on my way to his house for breakfast, determined that after we ate, I would get him to lie down for a rest. GPS led me to a small but neat house at the end of a cul-de-sac. A patch of lawn, probably green in the summer but dull now with a dusting of autumn leaves was broken by a concrete path to the red front door.

  I’d always liked red doors. They said something about the personality of the homeowner. A certain joie de vivre.

  Kipling met me there, opening it before I could knock and drawing me inside for a long, sweet kiss. When we drew back, I became aware of the scent of warm spices. “Smells amazing in here.”

  “My cologne?”

  I sniffed again. “Are you wearing nutmeg cologne? With a hint of cinnamon and ginger? Vanilla? If so, I approve.”

  He thrust his lower lip out in an adorable pout. “I was joking—I never wear cologne when I plan to work out. But if you prefer French toast to me, come right this way.”

  He took a step away, but I dragged him back, that lip too tempting not to nibble on. After a moment he jumped back. “My bacon. It’s about to burn!” Kipling fled across the cozy living room and through a narrow arched doorway. I followed slower, taking in the decor and the touches that made it his. Considering he was a jock and a psychologist, I’d had an image in the back of my mind of a living room crammed with psych journals and exercise equipment, probably lots of tech stuff, but I couldn’t have been further from the reality.

  A white-brick fireplace framed a neat stack of logs, ready to burn, with a blue-and-green patterned love seat flanked by two chairs facing it. A low table held a bowl of nuts in their shells as well as a nutcracker. Sure, a small TV hung above the mantel—he was a guy after all—but I could imagine sitting there on a cold night, cracking nuts and talking, a roaring fire keeping the chill at bay.

  “Hey, you coming? Breakfast is ready,” came Kipling’s voice from the next room. “Hungry?”

  I shook myself free of the fantasy and headed into the kitchen, which had the same air of cottage comfort as the living room. All the makings of an excellent breakfast awaited me. Coffee and fresh-squeezed orange juice—the freshness backed up by the “Starved.” I took the seat he waved me to and lifted my fork and knife, ready to dig in. “You know, I thought you athletes never ate anything good. That you lived on protein shakes and other miracles of modern chemistry.” I poured a drizzle of maple syrup over the triangular slices on my plate.

  “And raw eggs in a blender?” He chortled, grimacing. “True, I don’t eat eggnog French toast and bacon every day of the week, but I’ve never been a believer in better living through chemistry. Don’t tell anyone.” He set the platter of bacon between us and sat opposite me. “Besides, we’ll burn these calories off in no time today.”

  My eyes, half-closed in ecstasy as I chewed a bit of the custardy bread, popped wide of their own accord. Swallowing, I studied his grin. “Sounds fun.”

  “Tsk. I’m not talking about sex, alpha. Although that is certainly something we can do after we get back from the gym.”

  Uh oh.

  “The gym...and you said ‘we’ will burn off the calories?”

  Swallowing a big bite of syrup and butter-soaked toast, Kipling nodded enthusiastically. “I can’t wait for you to give it a try. You really do have the beginnings of a ninja body. I noticed that last night.”

  “Uh, thank you?” Sure, it was a compliment, but I’d spent four years of high school avoiding gym class. I worked hard but I did not work out. I parted my lips to say as much then stopped. Kipling usually was on the quiet side, talking to the kids and the others at Thanksgiving, when I’d watched him at the lounge from across the room...even when interviewed by the TV announcers on the ninja show, he’d come across as very self-contained.

  “I know just what to start you off on. Every ninja has to build upper body strength, so we’ll work on that today.” He downed his juice in a single gulp.

  I’d do anything to keep the sparkle in his eye. Even work out. Once. Because once he finished laughing at my ridiculous performance, I felt confident the subject would never come up again. He’d allow me to hold the pom-poms event-side and cheer him on to victory. Attempting to keep my hatred of all physical activity—when I was the active one at least—to myself, I gave him a smile and grabbed a slice of bacon. “Sounds like a plan although I warn you, I’m in even worse shape than you think.” And for once, I regretted that.

  After we cleared away breakfast, he grabbed a gym bag by the door and off we went to the next town over where a gym I’d never even heard of had its door off an alleyway. Inside, I found myself facing an array of apparatus I’d never dreamed of. And it wasn’t like the TV versions with the bright paint and glitzy lights. This was bare metal, padded walls and floors, and lots of suspended things like rings. On this Saturday morning, there were at least a dozen young men and women in loose tank tops and tight shorts exhibiting a degree of physical prowess that made me want to run home and hide—not that I was in good enough shape to run that far.

  As the alpha, I was used to being a leader in all things. I suspected I was in for a humbling morning.

  “Okay, alpha.” Kipling led me to a piece of equipment that looked like the rings I remembered not swinging from on the
playground. “Let’s start with something easy.”

  Did I say humbling?

  Try humiliating.

  Chapter Ten

  Kipling

  Yeah, Hal was out of shape, but he was trying. I had always been into sports and running, not because I necessarily liked it, but because it was a good way to keep me emotionally fit.

  Even when I was a teen, I knew that a good run could cure the worst of ills.

  “I am not touching that thing again. What is that called, the embarrassment machine?”

  The embarrassment machine he referred to was the pull-up bar.

  “You said you wanted to see me work out, and I wanted to see you work out, so I thought it would be fun. Have some fun. Come on, let’s try the course.”

  He sidled up to me and leaned over to whisper in my ear. I shuddered just thinking about what he might say. “And you promised me shirtlessness, omega.”

  Yep. I knew it.

  “If you try the course, I’ll take my shirt off and show you how it’s done.”

  “Fine. I’ll do it. But only because the reward is so sweet.”

  Hal scooted through the first part, darting between suspended islands of foam but when he got to the monkey-bar-type climb, it all went downhill. He fell into the foam pit with a great yell.

  “Hal, are you okay?” I went to the edge of the pit, intending to go in and help him out. Until I heard him laughing, a big belly laugh that made me chuckle along with him. The sound of my alpha laughing was the best sound in the world. Well, maybe not the best, but nonetheless wonderful.

  “I’m so good. That probably would’ve been more fun if I was stronger.”

  He climbed out and reached for the hem of my shirt. “Your turn.”

  Everyone had left the gym while we were getting started, probably heading off to watch the local university play its biggest rival at football, so I obliged him and slowly took off my T-shirt, only taking my eyes off his while the fabric passed over my face.

  “There. You got your way. Happy?” I teased, going in for a quick kiss.

  “I am. Go for it. Let me see my ninja do his thing.”

  No matter how many times I’d competed, it was nothing compared to performing in front of Hal. His eyes on me made me want to try harder—work faster.

  Be the man I was in his eyes.

  Surprising to me, I went through the entire course without a hitch. I could hear Hal hoot or clap every now and then, but his presence was more fuel than I’d ever had.

  I finished in my best time ever.

  When I got down from the platform, Hal waited for me. “That was amazing. I’m in awe, omega. Truly.”

  That made my chest puff up in pride.

  “Thanks. Actually, I beat my own record that time. I think it was the audience.”

  He grabbed my waist and pulled me to him. “Are you saying you were trying to impress your alpha?” he growled.

  “I think so. I want to impress you.”

  He chuckled. “Not necessary. You already have. Show me some more.”

  For the next two hours, I did. I went through the course a couple more times, but never beat that record again. I showed Hal the entire place, heated pool, saunas, steam rooms, the whole gamut.

  “Maybe I should join,” he said. “Get stronger.”

  “You’re perfect just the way you are, but if you want to maybe get healthier, then, yeah, it would be nice to have you around.”

  He said nothing as I packed up my bag and went to the locker room to shower and get dressed, but followed me inside.

  I showered quickly, knowing he was in the locker room waiting for me, and when I got out, just a towel on, he was sitting on a bench.

  “Did you mean all the time?” he asked.

  “Did I mean it would be nice for you to be around all the time? Hell yes, I did. You doubt me?”

  His hand went to my knee and even the heaviest towel couldn’t have hidden my reaction.

  “I want you around all the time, Kipling. This is more than just dating for me. This, you, I’m falling hard already.”

  He didn’t say in love, but the implication was there.

  “I’m falling hard, too, Hal. Do you sing tonight?”

  He nodded.

  “Sing one for me?”

  He chuckled. “Omega, I think they all will be for you from now on. Not sure I could sing a song and not think of you.”

  Some people walked in, needing to use the space.

  I grabbed my underwear and unfolded it. “I think you earned some lunch. I know a place.”

  He nodded and waited with arms crossed over his chest while I got dressed. I loved how Hal watched me, like he was studying every move. The restaurant was just across the parking lot, so we walked over, hands linked, and I stepped back and let him precede me into the brightly lit foyer. As always, most were occupied.

  I stopped beside him. “This is the best place. I worked here when I was a teenager off and on.”

  “Looks healthy,” he said, with a tone that made me laugh. “There’s lettuce leaves on the logo.”

  “I’ll order. I know this menu.”

  Not only did I know the menu, I knew everyone working there. Everyone came out to say hello to us.

  Of course they did. My dad was the owner.

  “Hal, nice to meet you.” Dad stuck his hand over the counter to shake Hal’s and he didn’t miss a beat. Then Dad looked at me. “Son.”

  He nodded at Hal, who smiled, and his cheeks adorably blushed when he looked at me.

  “Dad, this is my…” I didn’t finish his sentence, but Dad held up his hand. “I know. You said over the phone. I got an earful. About ten minutes on your order. Have a seat.”

  That made me smile.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, as soon as we’d taken a seat at the booth in the back.

  “For what?” Hal said reaching across the table to take my hands in his.

  “I should’ve told you this was my dad’s business.”

  He shrugged. “It’s okay, Kip. I was assuming I’d meet your family someday.”

  I nodded. “And yours? Will I meet yours?”

  My stomach knotted up, waiting for the answer.

  “You don’t want to meet my family, Kipling. They hate me.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Hal

  With Thanksgiving past us, I expected to hear carols everywhere, even in this health food restaurant the Lettuce Leaf, Celtic holiday instrumentals swirled around us as we took a seat and a waitress who turned out to be his sister, Karrie, approached to take our order, interrupting the conversation briefly. I didn’t even hear what Kipling selected for us, my mind on how to explain to this omega that his alpha was a disappointment to his successful parents and not welcome at any family gatherings.

  Of course he would’ve learned about it sometime, but after knowing each other just a couple of days, I hadn’t thought we were to the “family” talk yet. Kipling’s dad was a fit man in his late fifties, bustling around his domain, giving orders, tasting things, chatting with customers. His sister also looked like an ad for healthy living, with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes. “Any other relatives work here?” I asked, trying to turn the topic back to his much more appealing family.

  “My brother is in the kitchen, usually, but he’s hiking part of the Sierra trail this week. He wants to complete the Mexico to Canada mileage this year and he has only about a hundred miles to go.”

  Of course he did.

  “Wow. And your sister? Is she also a fitness nut?”

  His smile dimmed. “You think we’re nuts?”

  Oh crap. “No, I’m just feeling inferior here. I’m amazed we had such an unhealthy breakfast.”

  “We did not. It was whole-grain bread and organic, cage-free eggs and milk from cows never dosed with BGH or antibiotics. The bacon came from pigs that...wait.” He rolled his eyes. “You really don’t want to hear all t
hese details. Just suffice it to say, I have a chocolate addiction my family despairs over.”

  “Somehow, that makes me feel a little better.”

  Karrie returned with two of the most beautiful salads I’d ever seen. Thin slices of rare grilled steak were scattered over the top. I took a big bite and sighed. “For health food, this isn’t bad.”

  Kipling’s dad came up behind us at that point and slapped me on the shoulder. My face heated as I realized we’d been overheard. “That is, Mr. Taylor, I mean…”

  He stood beside me a moment. “That’s Tom, Hal. Even my employees don’t call me Mr. Taylor. But in reference to your comment, a lot of people think for food to be healthful it has to be bland and boring and taste like rope. We source local ingredients where we can, from farmers who treat their animals well, and avoid chemicals on them or the vegetables. If we can’t get it here, we make sure someone we trust can get eyes on the farm or ranch. And we treat the food respectfully. If we want people to eat healthful food, it has to be something they will enjoy.” He slapped me on the shoulder again. “Now, I’ll leave you to it. Save room for dessert.”

  As Tom Taylor moved to the next table and spoke with the two young women there, I grimaced. “I hope I didn’t offend him.”

  Kipling swallowed a bite of salad and shook his head. “He loves to give that speech. You just gave him an opening. And he likes you, I can tell.”

  “It’s lucky someone’s dad does.” I had to get to this sooner or later. “My dad is a lawyer, well an attorney with aspirations for public service. As in, the next administration, if his candidate wins, may give him a White House office. Or possibly a Justice Department position way up the line.”

  Kipling spread softened butter on a whole-grain roll and smiled at me. “That’s nice.”

  “My other dad is a plastic surgeon to the rich and famous.”

  He took a bite and chewed then swallowed before responding. “Well, it’s a job. As long as they like their work, I guess I shouldn’t judge. But why do they hate you?”