Page 56 of Claiming Their Omega

As I’m helping out with a few last minute things in the kitchen, Easton’s grandparents arrive as well. I know them, of course, just like I know everyone in this town—or so it feels like—but I haven’t seen them in ages. I know how much they love Easton, so I’m a little intimidated. This courtship might be fake but I don’t want them unhappy or for Easton to feel that they’re disappointed in his choice of Omega.

Luckily, they seem to be happy, or at least not displeased. They ask me a lot of questions about my work in New York, and are gracious enough not to ask me what I think I’ll do for my job now with the whole Omega thing.

Finally we all sit down for dinner, and we tuck in.

“You look so cute,” Mom gushes at me. “I love the oversized shirt look. Sorry.” She waves a hand. “I know, I know, but I haven’t seen you in so long, my baby girl.”

“I know, Mom. And I actually got this shirt from William, can you believe it? He left it behind and hey, finders keepers.”

The conversation turns to other things, everyone talking over each other and lounging around, chatting in groups as you do—but I feel a hand on my shoulder.

I look up and see Hendrix standing there. “Hey, can you help me with this for a sec?” he asks. His voice is soft and polite, but there’s a steely glint in his eyes, like a fire barely restrained, that I’m not sure I’ve seen before.

“Of course.” I have no idea what I’m supposed to be helping out with, but I get the feeling it doesn’t matter. He’s going to tease me and flirt like he always does.

“Good idea, taking me out of sight for a few minutes,” I tell him as he guides me around to the side of the house, out of view. “We can pretend we were making out or something. That’s what newly courting people do, right? The whole can’t keep their hands off each other thing? That’s how it always goes in the Alpha-Omega romances I saw at the publishing house.”

Hendrix turns around and gestures at me. “Take. It. Off.”

There’s no humor in his voice. No teasing.

I stare at him. Take what off? He can’t possibly want me to strip. What would be the purpose? He doesn’t look like he’s doing it for sexy reasons, or to tease, he looks—he looks angry.

Then it hits me. William’s shirt. I’m wearing another Alpha’s shirt.

I cross my arms. “Oh, absolutely not. What is wrong with you? I have barely any clothes as it is! And you were fine with this shirt five minutes ago.”

“Five minutes ago I didn’t know it belonged to that man.”

“Oh, please, don’t pretend that it’s because William was a jerk. This shirt could’ve belonged to any Alpha and you’d be just as pissed off.”

“Maybe, but I especially don’t want you wearing a single damn thing that belonged to your fuckwad of an ex.”

“You can’t tell me what to wear. For crying out loud, we’re not even really courting!” I lower my voice and hiss this part so that nobody can possibly overhear me. “This isn’t your decision to make, sorry, not sorr—hey!”

I’m interrupted as Hendrix grabs my shirt and literally rips it down the middle. I gasp, staring down at myself. “W-what the hell!” I splutter.

I might protest on the outside, but to be honest, I’m flushed with heat. Hendrix stares at me—at my bare skin, at my bra—and I feel hot all over. I want him to push the shirt the rest of the way off me and get his hands all over my skin.

Hendrix stares at me hungrily, like he’s going to have me for dinner instead of the brisket. And I want it. I want it so badly I can barely breathe with it.

Then he undoes his button up shirt and slips it off, leaving the white undershirt beneath on. My breath freezes in my throat, and hope springs in my chest. Maybe he’s actually undressing. Maybe…

But Hendrix just takes the button-up shirt and puts it on me. His fingers brush against my skin as he buttons it back up. It’s far too large on me, but I can partially tuck it in like I did with William’s shirt, and the pale blue color suits me.

“There,” he announces, stepping back.

“I cannot believe you just did that.”

“You’d better, ’cause it happened. And it’ll happen again, as many times as it takes, until you’re out of shirts from that damn bastard.”

I arch a brow. “So you’ll go absolutely bananas if I wear something that once belonged to my ex, and you’ll put me in your shirt instead, but actually giving me what I want and touching me? Having sex with me? That, you won’t do?”

Hendrix’s jaw ticks. “Yeah, exactly.”

“This is unbelievable.”

“What’s unbelievable is that a mature woman like you can’t see what a bad idea having sex with us would be. What’s unbelievable is that you’re still stuck on this.”

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