Page 10 of What A Croc
“Just?” I prodded, when he didn’t seem inclined to finish his sentence.
He huffed a small grunt. “Just act like it didn’t happen and go our separate ways. Keep things professional between us. I can just make sure one of the other aides is there in the morning when you drop Aiden off, and I’m gone by the time you pick him up most days. So, it should be easy.”
Did this enticing man think I was honestly going to just let him go so easily?
Looking at his hunched shoulders, the way his arms were once again wrapped tightly around his waist, it appeared that was exactly what my little gazelle thought was going to happen.
Newsflash for him, he wasn’t running this show. While I one hundred percent absolutely understood the magnificent power omegas yielded over alphas, he wasn’t getting the final say in this.
Sliding effortlessly off the stool, I stood to my full height and stalked over to stand in front of him. Gasping, he looked up into my eyes, his own wide. His chest was moving rapidly under the soft material of his t-shirt but it wasn’t fear I smelled on him. No, the pheromones he was putting off were anything but fear.
Arousal. Need. Desire.
Everything I was feeling for him.
The man was a lunatic if he thought I–we–were just going to walk away from the crackling energy between us.
“Give me one good reason,” I demanded, though my voice was low, steady, soft. Husky and throaty.
He blinked once, twice, then whispered, “Our age. I’m way too old for you.”
Throwing back my head, I laughed heartily, the sound filling the silence of his house. “Oh, Robert, that is not an obstacle at all. In fact,” I tilted his chin up with one finger, not allowing him to look away from my steady gaze when he tried, “I like my omegas older. Love it, in fact. Always have. Even in school, omegas my age bored me silly. I was the freshman alpha dating the senior omegas. Levi was ten years older than me.”
He swallowed hard, the movement of his Adam’s apple holding my attention. I could see his pulse point fluttering, like a hummingbird, too rapid. “I’m probably fifteen years older than you.”
“I’m thirty-five,” I told him, keeping a tight rein on my need to run my nose along that fluttering pulse of his and breathe in his scent even more than I was already doing.
He snorted, “And I’m forty-nine. Too old for you.”
“How about you let me decide that,” I growled and he shivered, his pupils dilating even more. “One dinner. Let me take you on one date, and then if you still think we aren’t a good match, I’ll walk away.”
“It’s a waste of time,” he mumbled, but his voice lacked his earlier conviction, and I tried not to smile.
“No more a waste than you tossing what could be something wonderful away, without us even getting to know each other,” I countered.
He shook his head, “What could I possibly have to even offer you, Jackson? I’m a mess! I’m newly divorced–like seriously, the ink is barely dry on the papers. My wife and I were together for a long time. A long fucking time. I barely know my son. I. Am. A. Mess.”
There was a whole lot of baggage to unpack in those sentences, but I came with my own set of luggage. However, one thing he said caught my attention and I had to ask. “Are you not attracted to men?”
It would really suck to find my fated mate, only to discover he preferred women over men. I briefly wondered if that was one of his reasons for saying we wouldn’t work, but I was positive I had seen interest in his eyes.
His tongue darted out and he wet his bottom lip, before he gave a short nod. “I like men.” He cleared his throat, “I’m more attracted to the person, than their sex. Though I do question why on earth I was ever attracted to Jane.” The last was said softly, under his breath, and I surmised that Jane was his ex-wife. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a man, though, but yes, I like them.”
“Are you attracted to me?” The question rumbled out of me, dark and needy.
He swallowed hard. “I don’t even know you.”
That hadn’t been the question, but I didn’t call him on his evasion.
“So get to know me,” I pushed. “One dinner, Robert. Please.”
“Why?” he demanded sharply. “Why does it even matter? I’m giving you an easy out, Jackson. Trust me, you should probably take it. I’m too old for you, my life is a mess, and I’m…too old for you.” He repeated, obviously out of reasons. He did seem to be stuck on our age difference.
“You keep saying that. You’re the only one making our ages an issue. But I’ll tell you why it matters.”
Robert gazed at me with wide eyes, full of emotions I didn’t know how to read from him yet, but one day I would. I would know everything there was to know about this man. “Because you make me feel things I haven’t felt in over four years, Robert. You make mefeel, period. And I was pretty sure I would never feel anything ever again. Not desire, not want, or need, or even the energy it would take to get to know someone. But I feel when I’m near you. I desire. I want. Ineed.”
The air whooshed from his lungs with a small, squeaked, “Oh.”
