The Professor's Second Chance Mate

Chapter 26b

“As for the cooking,” he continued as he stored his sauce, “at first I had meals delivered to the suite, like room service. But when Kilani was three she started asking, no, demanding to help cook. All I was doing was removing the cloches, sometimes warming the meals, or at most I boil spaghetti and scramble eggs. So I started asking the omegas to have one night a week where they prepped a meal for me and left me instructions – very specific instructions -like those meal subscription boxes they have now. Our pack actually founded one of those companies. Anyway, so one night a week, then two nights a week, and finally three a week, Kilani enthusiastically, and Anthony, begrudgingly would help me cook whatever the dinner was. It was hard to spend quality time like that with them when they were little. So I absolutely loved those moments together. It was fantastic for bonding. Over the years I picked up a few legitimate skills along the way.”

“You look like a natural,” I cooed. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I batted my lashes, I was so besotted with the man. Plus, this was the first time a man had cooked for me. I felt special.

I ate at the pack house cafeteria often. But I usually sat alone with a nose in a book hoping no one noticed that I was always on my own. Sometimes when the pack noticed and gossiped, I’d have to sit with my family and they would pretend they gave a s**t about me for a couple of nights. Then loudly laugh about how I was so addicted to reading that I couldn’t stop, even to eat. And of course, I’d eat with the family whenever the pack had guests. God forbid that anyone might think we were anything but the perfect nuclear, alpha family.

This was different. It was domestic and comfortable, yet intimate. This was perfect.

“Now, I think the pregnancy was fate,” Kelton continued. “The goddess knew I’d need to wait for you, so she kept my hands full until I’d meet my true love - you.”

“Seems like your kids are still a handful.” I was half joking. Kilani would keep her mate on their toes one day. I was looking forward to seeing that. And Anthony, even though I hadn’t even met him yet, he sure has his dad all in knots worrying about him.

“You never stop worrying about your babies. It’s funny, you watch them grow and you can’t wait for them to be adults. It’s amazing watching them learn and become individuals. But at the same time they are your babies. I’ve always tried to guide them in a way that doesn’t smother them but damn! Sometimes, I just want to shake some sense into them.”

When my laughter faded, I wondered if I’d ever feel that for myself. Kelton was much older than me. He’s essentially lost his youth because he became a father too young. Would he even want more children? I can’t imagine he would. I’d always assumed that one day I’d have kids of my own. That was a discussion we should really have sooner rather than later. What if he didn’t want more kids? Was that a deal breaker for me? No. I have more love for him than I’ve ever experienced before. I think I would be ok.

“How do you like your steak?” Kelton asked, interrupting my wandering thoughts.

“No one has asked me how I wanted my food prepared before. A plate was thrust at me and I ate what I was given.” I wasn’t bitter about that, just thoughtful. I didn’t even realize there were options.

“Well, darling, in the realm of steak temperatures, there exists a spectrum akin to the hues of a fiery sunset,” he explained with a fake French accent. “At one end lies ‘Rare,’ a fleeting moment of seared perfection with a cool, crimson heart. Venture a bit further, and you’ll find ‘Medium Rare,’ where warmth embraces a rosy center, tender and inviting. ‘Medium’ beckons with a pink blush, offering a harmony of juiciness and doneness. Beyond, ‘Medium Well’ reveals a touch of pink amidst a landscape of gray-brown, a compromise between tenderness and solidity. And then, there’s ‘Well Done,’ a journey culminating in uniform brownness, sacrificing succulence for doneness. For those just embarking on this culinary odyssey, I’d recommend choosing ‘Medium’ or ‘Medium Rare,’ where flavor and texture intertwine in delightful harmony, awaiting flavor discovery with each savory bite.” Much to my amusement, he ended his flowery spiel with a big chef's kiss.

“I’ll have whatever the chef recommends.”

Watching him glide around the kitchen with ease and confidence was something I could definitely get used to. Not only was it nice having someone wait on me for a change, but I had a damn fine view.

“Can you cook?” By the cheeky twinkle in his eye, I’m guessing he knows the answer to that question.

“No. I can microwave popcorn and a few other things, but I never really needed to learn. Plus, any free time I had I poured into studies or my garden. Learning to cook would mean entering the kitchen and thus probably bumping into my mother at some point. She may not cook, but she does enjoy the bossing people around part of the Luna job.” Perhaps that was an unfair assessment. She mostly saved her prickly demeanor for me. That, I was bitter about.

“I see,” he said, but his tone suggested he had questions. I wasn’t ready to dive into all that yet. Though it did raise a question in me as I wondered what my father had said about our family dynamics.

“Can you open the wine, darling?”

“Sure,” though I sounded anything, but sure.

After struggling with this fancy lever thing for a few minutes I gave up.

“Uumm, I actually can’t. Sorry.” He grinned wickedly and talked me through the steps of using a corkscrew bottle opening. The feeling of joy at my eventual success did not outweigh the feeling of stupidity for not being able to figure it out in the first place. And I didn’t even need to watch a t****k or youtube video.

That aside, and though I was starving for his physical touch, I absolutely loved these little interactions. So far, we had so many things on our minds; the taboos of the age gap, his position, pack troubles, my exams – all of it added up to limited quality time together. We’d talked, of course, and with every conversation we learned more about each other, but this evening felt so natural, so right.

Thank you, Moon Goddess.

Seconded, Maya added, very unhelpfully with a suggestion that I slip my knickers off and bend over this counter for a quickie.

Tempting as that was, my belly loudly objected.

We took our seats, both grinning like fools. I can see myself eating dinner with him every night, especially if my sexy mate is the chef. Dinner and a show. Really though, it’s a type of domestic bliss I’ve never experienced before. Or at least not for a very long time.

That adorable, boyish grin he gifts me makes me want to jump his bones right now. Maya is right. Who needs food?

“Later, darling. I hear your stomach growling.” I’d wager he smelled my arousal too.

During dinner he asked about my interest in gardening that I’d mentioned earlier. I loved that he caught that. Our conversation flowed beautifully and I loved that I learned more about him and he about me. I couldn’t tell you if time stood still or if it were flying by, somehow it felt like both at the same time.

We’d finished eating a while ago but were still sitting at the dining table talking. My belly, I decided, was settled enough. Adopting my, hopefully, seductive face, I said,“Positively the best meal I’ve ever had but I’m still hungry.”

“What can I get you?” Clearly my attempt at flirting failed.

Thanks again to the old reliable internet, I researched praise kinks, which I think applies to Kelton and I, but I’m still figuring it all out. I shut out Maya’s annoying giggles in my head and tried again. Only this time I tried a more direct approach.

“What I’m hungry for is your god- like body. I miss having your big d**k inside me.” His eyes sparkled gold as he stared with fathomless heat at me. I was proud of myself for being brave and getting more vocal with him.

This time my words hit the mark. Without taking his eyes off me he slowly stands. An instant later he stood beside me, his hand reached out to me in invitation.

I didn’t hesitate.