Page 96 of Feeling the Heat: Part One
His smile turns a bit shy at my compliment. “Thank you. You look as lovely as ever.”
I want to protest that can’t be true, but he holds the bouquet towards me. “These are for you. I know roses are a bit cliche, but these reminded me of you. You’ll have to tell me for next time what your favorite flower is.”
Next time.It’s silly, but I can’t help the little flutter of excitement I get from his casual mention of future dates. The flutters intensify when I see the dozen pale peach and pink roses.
“Roses are actually my favorite. Not red ones, but softer colors. Like these.” It’s a little uncanny how perfect his selection was, but maybe that’s part of being scent matches. Intrinsically knowing what the other person finds pleasing.
“Wow, lucky guess,” he says with a grin. “Why don’t I put these in a vase while you go get dressed? Unless…”
My brow furrows at his hesitation. “Unless what? I don’t think this ancient robe and a messy bun will be up to dress code based on what you’re wearing.”
“What do you think about staying in tonight instead?” he asks gently. With any other guy, I’d think he was trying to take a shortcut to getting laid without shelling out money for dinner, but Ambrose’s expression is filled with concern rather than lust.
The thought of shoving myself back into heels and an uncomfortable dress after the day I’ve had kinda makes me want to cry, but I shake my head. “I’m fine. You got all dressed up. I don’t want to ruin our night.”
Ambrose takes the bouquet from my hands and sets it down on the counter beside us, then steps in to wrap an armaround my waist. “Sweetheart, all I care about is making sure you’re happy and comfortable. We’ll go out to eat another night.”
I blink up at him, flushing at his nearness and eager to go along with his suggestion. “Are you sure?”
He leans down to brush his lips against mine, before pulling back with a panty-melting smile. “Absolutely. Let me take care of you tonight.”
31
Stayingin wasn’t what I’d planned for tonight, but the moment I saw Camille, I knew there was no way I was making her go out. The dark circles underneath her eyes alone set off alarm bells for my alpha.
She’s not getting enough rest.
She’s working too hard.
I need to help her.
It takes all my willpower to casually offer to order food instead of bundling Camille up in my arms, depositing her on the couch, and demanding that she not move a muscle while I get her whatever she needs.
Thank god she agreed without much argument, because I don’t want to come on too strong. My instincts to care and protect are out in full force whenever I see Camille. Not because I think she needs my help—Camille has been fine without me for the last forty years. It’s my scent match telling me it’s my job to give her whatever I can to make her happy.
I try not to stare at the omega in question’s butt as she goes up on her toes to get a vase from the cabinet above hermicrowave, but fail spectacularly. She’s perfect, and the way her plump, peachy ass jiggles as she goes back down to her heels has my mouth watering.
She turns around before I can tear my eyes away, her cheeks flooding with color as she catches me ogling her.
My mouth curves into a sheepish smile and I decide to lean into it, loosening my tie and swallowing hard.
Camille giggles and turns back to the flowers, filling the vase and trimming the stems with careful precision. I want to insist that she let me take care of that, but the way she smiles to herself as she arranges the roses keeps my mouth shut.
Not wanting to get caught staring again, I shrug off my jacket and hang it up on a hook next to her purse. Thankfully, I didn’t sweat through my shirt on the trek up the stairs to her place and ruin my attempt to look good for her. Which would be a shame, considering I tried on almost all the clothes I own to figure out what was the most flattering.
God, I’ve been so nervous about this date. Jackson didn’t understand why I was so stressed, but he had the advantage of his date being a last-minute, casual invite. He didn’t have days to agonize over which flowers to get or look for the perfect restaurant.
You’d think this close to fifty, I’d be done with first date jitters, but apparently not. The last solo date I went on with someone new was River.
Who is the other source of my nerves. For all our talk of having an open relationship, the only people we’ve dated were the few omegas our pack attempted to court. And that was different. We went on a series of pack dates as a group before we spent any time with them one-on-one. I had River by my side instead of waiting for me at home while I’m off with my scent match.
The only reason I’m not more worried about my mate isthat Jackson promised to keep him entertained with a “bro night.” Knowing that let me relax enough to make it over to Camille’s place without turning into a total wreck.
I resist the urge to text and check in with them, focusing back on the reason I’m here. Camille sets the vase on her kitchen table, then approaches me, her fingers working nervously in the hem of her robe. It’s adorable, considering I’ve seen her in a much more compromising position. Or rather, positions.
My cock gives a happy twitch at the memory, but I remind it we’re not here to get off. We’re here to show our omega how good an alpha I can be for her.
“Would you like Chinese, pizza, or sushi?” I ask, pulling out my phone to open up the delivery app.
