Page 47 of His Sassy Omega
Love? No one said anything about love. Lust? Yes. A firm desire to get to know him better? Absolutely. Wanting to be buried balls deep in his ass, every second of every day? Sign me the fuck up.
“Slow your roll, lady,” I snarked. “We’ve known each other a hot minute, no one is in love yet. Half the time I’m not even sure he even likes me.”
With a tilt of her still blonde head, my mom snickered. “He likes you. From what you’ve said he wouldn’t have agreed to a date with you if he didn’t like you.”
“He kicked me out of his bed?” I was back to the reason I was pissed. “Who does that?”
“I do,” my mom reminded me with a laugh, and I sank down in my seat, defeated and deflated.
“So, what are you doing here?” she questioned. “Go get your omega.”
“Have you heard nothing I’ve just been telling you?” My voice was incredulous.
“Every word.” She poured another cup of coffee for herself, leaning a hip against the counter, relaxed and calm and rational. At least one of us was. “Do you know what I see when you talk about Quinn? I see a light in your eyes I haven’t seen in, well for a very long time. I see an honest to Goddess smile on your lips, and I see your shoulders relaxed. I see youhappy. You need to hold onto all the happiness you can get in this world, Lachlan, for whatever time you have. Hold onto it tight. With whoever gives it to you.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and it became crystal clear to me why my mom had never remarried, and why she threw lovers out of her bed, before the light of day. She may question if she had been in love with my dad, but I think she’d just answered that question for me.
“He is testing you, trust me on this. He wants you to stand up to him. If he’s feeling anything like you are, he’s probably confused and scared,” she chided me, practically pushing me out the door, into the cold. “Now, go get your omega. And bring him to Christmas Eve dinner.”
Which was how I found myself standing on Quinn’s front porch, a pastry box of donuts in my hand, pounding on his door. Well, I’d actually kicked it by accident. When I’d tried to knock and nearly lost the box, I had kicked the door with my foot instead.
I looked down at the box in my hand, from the grocery store, and wondered if it was weird to bring a bakery owner donuts from another shop. I shrugged. It was almost nine, and he needed to eat. I couldn’t explain how I knew he needed to eat, but I did. I felt it. I couldn’t cook, so donuts it was.
I heard footsteps and the door was yanked open with enough force, it hit the wall behind it. Quinn was standing in front of me, glaring. He was wearing faded gray sweats and a ragged t-shirt. His feet were bare and his hair a mess, still damp from a recent shower. There was just the faintest hint of purplish bruises under his eyes.
He looked sleep rumpled, tired and grumpy, and like the most delectable thing I had ever seen.
He peered at me with bleary eyes. The dark circles under his green eyes, which I’d noticed the night before, seemed darker this morning in the harsh morning sunlight.
“Hi!” I waved the box in his direction, my voice extra cheerful. “I brought breakfast.”
He ran a hand over his face. His tone was surly but had some sass in it. “You’re back.”
I frowned, then moved past him, essentially letting myself in. “I’m back.”
He didn’t look all that happy to see me, but I was standing my ground.
“Uh, I’m on my way out.” He didn’t even try to conceal the irritation he was feeling for me. I chose to ignore it.
I glanced at his bare feet. “Without shoes?”
He huffed, annoyed. “Someone started beating my damn door down, and interrupted me.”
There were a pair of socks on the couch. A pair of running shoes sat on the floor and a bakery box of something was on the coffee table. Maybe it wasn’t a lie just to get rid of me. I set my box on the coffee table, breathing in the scent of him. I loved the smell of this man. Chocolate chip cookies. The scent of cinnamon was stronger this morning and there was an underlying hint of citrus. Hmmm, that was new.
I felt like an idiot when he just kept standing by the open door, staring at me. I ran my now sweaty palms down my jeans. I fought the urge to fidget from one foot to the other. This had been a bad idea. I should have just gone home and nursed my anger with a bottle of something strong. He just kept staring at me, the oddest look on his face.
He was annoyed I was back for sure, but there was something else in the shadows of his eyes. As if he was excited and happy I was back, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it. Did he really think I’d just wine, dine, fuck him, and that was it? He tosses me out, and that’s the end of it? He never hears from me again?
What was it Jamie called that? Hit it and quit it?
“Do you want me to go?” I took a step towards the still open door, that was letting in the cold December air.
Quinn shut the door before I could make a break for it. I’d just asked him outright what he wanted. I didn’t want to second guess him anymore. It was exhausting. He and I were not on the same page about anything. At this point, I’m pretty sure we weren’t even reading the same book.
“No, stay.” He flopped onto the couch, picking his socks up. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired. I didn’t expect you to come back. It threw me for a loop.”
I let his words sink into my brain. Hehadthought once he threw me out, he wouldn’t see me again, at least not today. Is that what he was used to? Is that what he wanted?
