Page 43 of The Queen's Knights

“Wow.”

He grins. “Wow is right. God, Gwen, I never thought we’d wind up here. I love you too—so goddamn much it hurts sometimes.”

ChapterTwenty-Four

Lance

You would think I’d be more comfortable in a jacket and tie, considering my career goals, but no matter how hard I try to make outfits like this work, I still itch. At least Percy looks just as out of sorts in his suit, no matter how well it fits him. He’s more polished than I expected, his hair pulled back into a sleek little manbun, not a strand out of place.

“What?” he mutters when he catches me looking at him shortly after we arrive at the mixer. We’re awkwardly lingering in a corner while Gwen schmoozes with Dean Robertson.

“You look hot,” I say, surprising myself. It’s only been within the last week since our love confession with Gwen that I started looking at him more objectively, appreciating his appearance the way I appreciate hers. She’s as stunning as always tonight, wearing a backless purple cocktail dress with a high halter neckline.

“Are you wearing the plug?” he asks.

My neck heats. “Fuck no. I’d never be able to concentrate with something shoved up my ass. If all goes well, I’ll…” I clear my throat. “I’ll put it in after.”

“Better not wait too long, because your ass is mine tonight.”

His promise causes sweat to prickle between my shoulder blades. I did make a promise, and even bit the bullet and did all the prep for it, which included a couple tasks I know I’ll need to get used to, but that I’m still weirded out by. I got well-acquainted with graduated plugs, for one thing, and the largest one rests heavy in my inner jacket pocket, just waiting until I’m ready for it.

The things I do for love.

The worst part is that I haven’t eaten, and Ican’teat until afterward. As fun as spontaneous butt sex sounds, I didn’t miss the fact that Percy immediately went to clean up when we were done that first night. So it’s nothing but water for me tonight, which is fine, since I need a clear head if I’m going to interrogate anyone.

“I’m going to go find my target. Hopefully this will go fast,” I say. No sense waiting longer than necessary.

“Remember to record the conversation.”

“Got my phone set up already.” I wave my smartphone at him, the voice recording app ready to go as soon as I can track down Dr. Tong.

He isn’t hard to find; his nasally giggle is a dead giveaway. I follow the sound to the kitchen, where he’s chatting with another faculty member and a pair of students I recognize. His bespectacled eyes light up when he sees me. I tap the record button on my phone and slip it back into my jacket pocket before approaching.

“Mister Lacosta, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” He reaches a hand out to shake, so I grip it and nod. He’s relatively unintimidating in stature and manner, and I’ve always liked him well enough as a teacher, but I don’t want to draw any conclusions yet.

“I’m graduating in a couple weeks. Figured it couldn’t hurt to show my face to the graduate faculty.”

His eyebrows draw together in mild confusion. “But you’re pre-law, aren’t you? You should be at the law school mixers.”

“Oh, I intend to go to those too. Just making sure I don’t burn bridges, you know.” I give him what I hope is a confident smile to cover up how utterly full of shit I would be, had I not had an enema a couple hours ago.

“Smart man.” He nods sagely. “We’d love to have you stay with us, if that’s your choice, but with your grades, I’m sure you’ll excel anywhere.”

I shrug and try to come up with a few leading questions to gauge the likelihood of him assaulting Gwen. Thankfully he turns to the others and starts to talk me up as if I’m the best thing since peanut butter. I’m waiting for the right moment to interject when another man slips up beside him, sliding a possessive arm around his waist and eyeing me warily.

He sticks a hand out. “I’m Garrett, Emil’s husband.”

My eyebrows shoot up. I’m dumbstruck for a moment, and it takes a beat before his defensive look sinks in. Evidently, I have absolutelylousygaydar.

“Nice to meet you,” I say, bewildered by both Dr. Tong’s enthusiasm about me and his husband’s attitude.

“Garrett and I saw your last meet. Impressive times!” Dr. Tong says. “Your performance rivals that of Olympic swimmers.”

Garrett begrudgingly nods in agreement.

“Oh. Wow. I had no idea you followed college sports, much less swimming.”

“It’s the outfits,” Garrett says, smirking. Dr. Tong elbows him in the ribs and rolls his eyes.

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