Page 57 of Claiming Their Omega

I narrow my eyes, my pulse racing. “Answer me this: do you even want me? Huh? Because I’m hearing a lot of protests, but ripping the shirt off a woman because it once belonged to another man and replacing it with your own? That generally means you want her.”

I step up closer to him and jut up my chin, refusing to let the height difference prevent me from being intimidating.

“So tell me, Hendrix. Do you want me?”

He huffs a breath, his nostrils flaring. “You’re asking the wrong question.”

“No, I don’t think I am.”

His jaw clenches. “It doesn’t matter if I want you or not, what matters is that sleeping with you is a bad idea.”

“See, you’re dodging the question.”

“You shouldn’t even be asking the question!”

“But I am, so here we are.”

I put my hands on my hips as I speak, a move I know pushes my breasts out a little, and I see Hendrix’s gaze drop to them. A rush of adrenaline floods my veins.

“You know what?” I cock my head to one side, letting a tiny smirk tug at my lips. “I remember when we were younger, we’d always fight over that last piece of my dad’s homemade cornbread. It was such a big deal. You slapped my hand once. I think I bit you another time.”

Hendrix furrows his brows a little, as if he’s trying to figure out the cause of this sudden shift of topic. “You sure did. Pretty sure I’ve still got the scars.”

“Well then, how about this?” I step in even closer, just close enough I can feel the heat of his body as I keep my gaze determinedly locked onto his. “I bet you the last piece of cornbread that you’re hard for me right now.”

Hendrix stares at me for a moment, and I can’t even begin to guess what the expression on his face means.

Then he turns on his heel and storms away.

I let out a breath, my shoulders sagging a bit. Well, that was kind of a disaster, but at least I stood up for myself. If they don’t want to sleep with me, fine, but they’d damn well better commit to it. I won’t be yanked back and forth like this.

I take a moment to get my emotions back under control, then go to rejoin the others. I can feel a lot of people looking at me, but none of them say anything. When I sit down at the table, though, Aiden’s brows just about fly up to his hairline, and I can see my mom smothering an amused smile.

I don’t dare look at Easton, Jesse, or Cade. I don’t want to know what expressions are on their faces. Clearly everyone’s noticed that my shirt is now a cute, light blue button up instead of the oversized t-shirt I was wearing before. But I’m sure as hell not going to be the one who comments on it first.

Instead, I focus on eating and enjoying the meal. My dad has really gone all-out, and I notice that my mom seems to be especially attentive toward the three Alphas, spoiling them a little. I hope it’s not just because of me and because she thinks these men are destined to be her future sons-in-law.

The food is delicious, as always, and we’re all eating like ravenous wolves. I see Mom setting aside a large plate for Hendrix, since he’s still not back. I wonder what he’s up to. I can’t believe I upset him enough with this stupid shirt that he has to walk it off for this long.

If he would just admit that he wants to fuck me, if he’d just do something about it, I’d probably be flattered. I can’t help but admit to myself that it’s hot that he ripped my clothes off, and that he was so possessive. It’s the refusal to admit it, and the refusal to go the distance and sleep with me, that’s so damn frustrating.

Finally, just as I can see Dad gearing up to announce dessert, I see Hendrix return. He seems calmer, more settled, but also like he’s steeled himself for something.

“Hendrix!” Mom holds up the plate that she prepared for him. “We were just going to send out a search party. I saved a plate for you.”

Hendrix gives her a warm smile and accepts the plate. “Thanks, Mrs. Whitmore, I appreciate it.”

“Oh, there’s one more piece of cornbread left,” Dad says, clearing plates to make room for the dessert. “Who wants it? Hendrix?” He grins. “I remember how you used to fight everyone for it. Usually Grace.”

“Actually…” Hendrix sits down. He looks at my father, not at me, but I still feel pinned like a butterfly on display. “That last piece is for Grace.”

My breath catches in my throat.

He’s admitting it. He’s admitting that he was hard, earlier. That I turned him on, that I was the reason for it.

My fingers shake a little as I take the piece of cornbread, but I try to maintain my composure. I don’t want the others knowing what’s going on. Both because I don’t know how the other three Alphas would take it, and also because I don’t need my parents and grandmother and who all else knowing about something like that.

I put the cornbread on my plate and dare to look at Hendrix. Our eyes lock. I feel like my heart is thudding so hard that surely everyone at the table can hear it.

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