She pulls off the apron, tosses it over a chair, and moves to the couch, where she places her cup on the side table. I lose every scrap of composure because the T-shirt without the apron makes me breathless. The curve of her breasts is visible through the fabric, the outline of her nipples sharp enough for my cock to punch in my pants. She’s wearing no bra underneath. Fuck! I stare at the oven for a full second to get myself under control before I follow.
She sits cross-legged, facing me. I drop onto the couch, looking her way, one leg bent, my arm along the back. My gazedips to her mouth. Lower. The stretch of the cotton T-shirt across her chest. Back to her eyes.
She caught every second of it. Her eyebrow lifts.
Real smooth, mate.
“So,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “New Zealand. What was it like?”
“Small town on the South Island. Arrowtown. Rugby, mountains, everyone in your business. Beautiful but suffocating.”
“Why’d you leave?”
Most people get the short version. But I want to share more with her.
“My brother, Eli.” I grab my cup. “Male Omega, which is rare. In a small town, rare means everyone judges.” I take a sip. “He struggled badly. Presenting, school, all of it. Mum was fierce about protecting him. Dad…” I pause. This part still sticks. “Dad’s decent. Not cruel. Just didn’t know how to handle it, so he went quiet, which is worse than angry because at least angry is honest.”
“And what happened?” She says it flatly.
“I stepped in where Dad couldn’t,” I say, keeping my eyes on the cup between my hands. “Walked Eli to school, shut people down before they bullied him, sat outside his bedroom door during his first heat because he was terrified and Dad couldn’t even bring himself to stay in the house. Mum was at work, Eli was crying behind the door, and I was sitting on the hallway floor pretending I knew what the fuck I was doing.”
“He was lucky to have you.”
I drag a hand over my jaw. “It was stressful. For him more than anyone, but for all of us. Then when I was twenty-three, Eli moved to Australia and told me I had officially done enough brothering and needed to get on with my own life already.” My mouth twitches despite the ache in my chest, because I love thatkid more than he will ever understand, even if he’s a grown man now and still calls me twice a week to tell me things I absolutely do not need to know about his life. “So I left New Zealand. Ended up in the States, found Brody and the pack, and Brody sponsored my visa so I could live and work here while my residency gets approved.”
“Oh, wow.”
“And the guys have agreed that if I don’t get approved, we’re all relocating to New Zealand.”
She laughs. “I love that, and have always wanted to visit New Zealand and Australia, except I’m terrified of those huge, venomous spiders in Australia.”
“I’ll take you there one day and show you it’s not that bad,” I say, and she simply smiles, clearly not believing me, but I mean every damn word. “What’s your background, then?”
“Well, you’ve met my sister, Ivy. From the moment she presented at fifteen, she was the perfect Omega,” she says, pulling her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. “Found her match at eighteen. Bonded, blissful, the whole fairy tale. And I was…” She trails off. Her jaw tightens. “The anxious one. The difficult one. The one everyone had to make accommodations for.”
I reach over, my hand finding her chin, lifting her face until her eyes meet mine. Her skin is soft under my fingers, her jaw delicate. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Claire. Not a single fucking thing, you know that?”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t pull away, so I hold her for a few more seconds, then release her chin, because if I don’t, I’m going to kiss her and never let go.
“I plan to play rugby here,” I add, redirecting before my willpower runs out entirely.
She laughs. “I need to come watch.”
“Yeah? I’d love that.”
“Is it violent?”
“Nah. Maybe.”
Again she laughs at me, lowering her knees to be crossed in front of her, her hands on her thighs. “Then I’m definitely coming.” Her grin is wicked and it’s contagious. I finish my coffee and set my cup back down as she grabs hers to sip.
We talk about her grandmother and her recipes. Brody’s inability to pronounce a single Maori word despite years of correction. She’s giggling at that, and the sound fills the room and sinks into my bones.
She puts her coffee down, then stares at me, her gaze dipping to my mouth. Mine keeps dropping to hers too, and the feral part of me that operates on instinct and the absolute certainty that this Omega is mine is straining forward so hard to claim her.
Her hand reaches out first. Soft fingers grazing my chest, palm flat over my sternum. “I’m really struggling to stay away from you,” she whispers. “I wanted to ask you something, but right now I can’t think straight.”
“What was it?”