Wesley
Who places a gift in someone’s hand after they’ve called you a spreading disease?
Lily Lopez does.
That sparkly, smiling, and weird assistant of mine is absolutely mad. I chewed off her head in the car earlier, yet she still gave me that sticker. A sticker that obviously means something to her, a token of her optimistic personality perhaps, and now it’s all that I can think about. That sticker has become a symbol of her endurance, and it has made me question my own.
As I sit on my bed, staring at the sticker in the palm of my hand, I wonder what Lily sees in me. I’m a miserable Alpha who has pushed away almost everyone in his life. I’m a chronic workaholic, sacrificing my personal relationships for success. Yet that woman is trying so hard to get to know me, and I don’t understand why!
I rejected Lily as my second chance mate. I’ve treated her like trash and been nothing but condescending in our conversations, yet she keeps trying to get to know me. She just never gives up! She is extremely annoying, and I shouldn’t like her. Lily is nothing like Mirelle, yet the walls in my defense are cracking even though I’m fighting it tooth and nail.
My phone suddenly chimes with yet another text message from a random pack member. I turn around to stare down at my phone on the bedsheets as Mirelle’s face lights up the entire screen. But instead of feeling sad at seeing my ex-wife’s soft face, I grow bitter because I know what Mirelle would have said if she was here, “Everyone deserves a chance, Wesley,” but then again, if Mirelle were still alive, I would never have looked twice at Lily.
I close my eyes and try to shake off Mirelle’s memory. But there’s no denying the fact that I miss her terribly. Mirelle was my heart, my soul, and my life. Losing her in that vicious attack shattered me completely and left me a broken man. I’ve never been able to pick up the pieces and move on.
But as I hold that sticker in my hand, I can feel something stirring inside me. It’s not love, though. More like...irritation. Discomfort. Anger. Yes, it’s definitely not love because Lily is the strangest person that I’ve ever met. And now that I’m annoyed at her again, I won’t be able to sleep.
With a deep sigh, I get up from my bed and make my way to the living room, where I find Lily sitting on my couch, scrolling through her phone. She looks up and glares at me as I enter the room. “Don’t get too close, or you might catch the sparkling Lily disease.”
Disease. Darn, she is using my own word against me, but instead of fighting her, I have to stifle a laugh. I so deserved that one for yelling at her earlier...
I decide not to care about my pride and take a seat on the couch, eyes locked on hers. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
I notice that her eyes are puffy and red even though she averts them. “I couldn’t sleep after someone called me a disease...”
“I’m sorry that I lost my temper.”
“I get that I overstepped my boundaries, but you didn’t have to be so mean...” Her voice is low, but there is no sadness in it—only anger.
“You’re right.”
“And...wait, you’re agreeing with me?” she looks at me like I’ve grown two heads.
It annoys the crap out of me. “Why do you look so surprised?”
“Because you never did that before—this is a first.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t get used to it. I’m usually never wrong, and therefore, I never have to apologize.”
Lily sighs. “You’re such an asshole, but whatever... I’m too tired to argue.”
She pulls her feet closer to her body, and my eyes narrow when I notice there are blisters on her right foot. Are her work shoes too small?
I wordlessly lean forward to grab Mirelle’s old Compeed pack from underneath the coffee table and place it beside me before grabbing Lily’s foot.
“What are you doing?” Lily asks, alarmed.
“I’m helping you with your blisters,” I say, more gruffly than I intended.
Surprisingly, she doesn’t resist. Instead, she lets out a small sigh of relief as I peel off the plastic backing of the Compeed and stick it on her blister. There’s a moment of silence between us as we sit there, her foot in my lap, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
“I don’t understand you, Wesley,” Lily suddenly says.
“What’s there to understand?” I reply.
“I don’t know…why do you have to be so closed off? Why do you push everyone away?”
“I’m not pushing anyone away,” I say, although I know it’s a lie.
“You’re pushing me away,” Lily says quietly, and I can feel her foot twitch in my lap. “And I don’t know why.”
I don’t answer her. I don’t have an answer. Instead, I silently place her other foot in my lap and inspect it for blisters. There aren’t any, yet I don’t push it away.
Lily continues talking. “I mean, it’s not like I expect us to be a happy family, but can’t we at least be friends? We are about to become parents, Wesley!”
She sounds so upset that I instinctively begin massaging the underside of her foot. I don’t even realize I’m doing it before Lily pauses, and then I can’t stop. That would be awkward...right? But Jesus Christ, isn’t it more awkward for me to continue? Why did I even grab her feet?! I guess some habits never die. I used to massage Mirelle’s feet every night when we watched TV. It was our thing.
Lily lets out a content sigh and leans back into the couch, closing her eyes. “That feels nice,” she says softly.
I stop massaging her foot, suddenly feeling like I’ve overstepped a boundary. I don’t want to be like this with Lily, not when everything in me is screaming that this is wrong. But then again, I don’t know why I can’t stop thinking about her, why I’m drawn to her in a way that I can’t explain.
Lily makes another sound low in her throat that sounds a lot like a moan, and my cock stirs to life. Suddenly I remember our night together, and it gets even worse when I smell the air. It’s filled with Lily’s hormones, and her sweet scent hints at her being...aroused.
Oh my god. Is she actually horny? From a foot massage? What is this? And why does she have to smell so freaking good?!
Lily inhales sharply as I continue massaging her foot, and I can feel the tension in her body melt away while I’m in absolute agony. I swear there is pre-cum in my boxers from the inappropriate sounds she is making.
Finally, the temptation becomes too much, and I push her foot away from me. It takes me a while to compose myself before I can look Lily in the eyes again.
“Lily,” I begin, my voice low but firm. “I’m sorry for all the things I said. And for all the things I didn’t say. I will try to treat you better from now on, I promise.”
With a heavy heart, I pull myself up from the couch and make my way back to my bedroom. Lily doesn’t say anything, and I don’t know if she accepted my apology or if she didn’t care at all. All I know is that my feelings for her are growing stronger, and I’m not sure what to do about it.
What I feel for Lily isn’t love. It can’t be...it’s more like...lust. Yes. That’s the word. I haven’t slept with anyone for so long that living with Lily is driving me mad. And let’s be honest: she isn’t bad-looking. She is pretty and seductive, and when I pass her bedroom, I pause.
The door is open, and my eyes land on a pile of dirty laundry on her bed. A tiny red G-string immediately catches my attention. It’s made out of lace and...I shouldn’t. It’s wrong and wicked, yet I walk inside her bedroom and pick up her underwear, pressing them to my nose.
The scent of her arousal is so strong that it sends a shiver down my spine. My cock stirs again, and I swallow the lump in my throat. What am I even doing? I know I shouldn’t be here, holding her panties to my nose, but I can’t seem to resist.
I take another sniff, and when I hear footsteps coming up the stairs, I slip her strings into my chest pocket. This will be my dirty little secret. My guilty pleasure.
I leave Lily’s room and waste no second taking off my clothes as I enter my own. My cock is rock hard against my abs, and I wrap her red G-strings around my length and start to stroke myself slowly, imagining that it is Lily touching me instead.
And I have a problem because the feeling is so intense that I can’t hold back for more than five minutes before I come hard, exploding all over my abs. It has been so long since I last had sex that I come like a hose.
My breathing is labored as I slump against my bedpost, my naked body still trembling with pleasure. God, I can’t believe I just did that. What was I thinking?
Still, even though I hate myself for doing it, I can’t regret it because that was the most intense orgasm I’ve had since...since I had sex with Lily.
Anger swells inside my chest at the thought of that woman. I don’t like her, and neither am I in love with her. So, why can I get her out of my head?