Filed to story: The Alpha’s Pen Pal Book
I swear this female will be the death of me. Her and her smiles and her gumption. The way she doesn’t take any of my shit and meets me toe to toe, blow for blow, without batting an eyelash, without a perfectly curled hair falling out of place. Her constant presence is a curse, because I crave more of it. Even as I push her away and claim that I can’t stand having her around, even as I claim she’s a nuisance and a detriment to my routine and my stability, I find myself desperate for the unpredictability she brings. I find myself desperate to act with the same unpredictability.
So I do what any desperate male would do. I head upstairs to my room to eat my potato chips and play my guitar in solitary silence.
However, each step I take feels like trudging through molasses. The further I get up the stairs, the harder it is to climb them. There is a tiny, thin thread wrapped around my heart, and it tightens as the distance grows.
But I make it. I make it to the top of the stairs and into my bedroom.
Where Cassandra has placed a vase of tulips on my dresser, right beneath my bedroom window.
That’s it. That’s the straw that breaks my back. I leave my guitar and chips behind and storm out of the bedroom and down the stairs. A trail of water droplets lies between her bedroom door and the bathroom, but I ignore it and pound on the bathroom door.
“Cassandra!” I shout, biting my bottom lip and hitting the door with my fist again.
“What?” she asks from behind me.
I spin around, fist still lifted. Cassandra raises her chin at me, framed in her bedroom doorway, body and hair damp, wrapped in a white towel that barely covers her body. My eyes widen and I freeze, unsure of where to look.
I can’t look down, because that towel ends at the tops of her thighs, revealing those smooth, endless, perfect legs to me. And I can’t look at her chest, at the swell of her breasts and the cleavage peeking out from the towel, because fuck, that would just about ruin me. And I can’t look at her face, because the fiery defiance in her stunning eyes draws my wolf forward and has me yet again questioning why there is so much space between our bodies and our lips.
Her fists grip her towel, pulling it tighter around herself, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips as I try to look anywhere but at her. Try, and fail.
It would be so easy to cover the two steps keeping us apart. That towel is nothing but a minor obstacle, one I could rip from her body in half a second, leaving her naked and panting and pinned against the door at her back. I’d cup her cheeks and slide my lips over hers, lifting her into my arms and opening the door, where I’d toss her on the bed and sink my cock deep inside her, keeping her flush against me and in my arms all night.
But I do none of those things. No, all I do is gesture at the floor and glare at her, diverting my thoughts away from the things I
can never let myself do with her. “You’re getting water all over my floor.”
She jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “I thought I left my comb in the bedroom.”
“You thought you did?”
“Well, it wasn’t on the dresser where I’ve been leaving it, so I guess I—“
“Didn’t I tell you no flowers in my room?” I snap, no longer able to hold that complaint in.
“Daisies,” she says, standing up taller and squaring her shoulders.
I blink. Once, then twice, then a third time. My arms cross, and I angle my head to the side. “What?”
“You said you didn’t want daisies in your room.”
I nod. “And?”
“And those are tulips.”
“Those are—” I shake my head, pinching my lip between my fingers, my other hand on my hip, a derisive laugh huffing from my chest. Leave it to Cassandra to find the loophole in my “no daisies in my room” comment. “And what about the chips?” I ask, once again changing topics as I take a singular step towards her.
She shrugs one shoulder. “Salt and vinegar chips are my favorite, too.”
I stalk closer, and her chin lifts higher so she can hold my gaze. I press my palm into the wall and lean towards her, lowering my face until we’re only inches apart. She’s unexpectedly petite, considering how long her legs are—I have to lean down further than I thought I would to be this close to her—and I’m shocked at how much her small stature delights me. She’d fit right under my chin if I pulled her into my chest and wrapped my arms around her, creating a little pocket of comfort and safety for her to snuggle into.
Goddess, could my thoughts wander any further from the actual issues at hand?
“You can’t just slap your name on something and claim it’s yours,” I say, my hand curling into a fist against the wall so I don’t act on my raging impulses.
“Sure you can.” Her green eyes glitter and swirl with her wolf’s presence, calling out to mine. He pushes against my restraints, whining for me to let him out to interact with her, but I shove him away, back into the recesses of my mind. “Isn’t that what we do when we mark another as our mate?”
I involuntarily glance at her neck. Or, at least, I tell myself it’s involuntary. I’m not entirely sure it was. She stiffens, and her throat bobs, her heart pounding and her pulse thrumming beneath the skin of her neck as she grips that tiny, insignificant towel closer to her body, and her legs squeeze together.
Before I know what I’m doing, my body shifts closer to hers, so our torsos almost touch, and my hand lifts to her damp hair, fingertips playing with the ends of it where it lies on the fabric of the towel. Even while wet, it’s silky beneath my touch, and the faint hint of daisies with the undertone of something light and sweet fills my lungs. I thought before that the scent of the daisies she keeps bringing into the house is what always lingers on her skin and in her hair, but I’m realizing it’s just her. She’s a true breath of fresh spring air, promising new beginnings and second chances.
And I deserve neither.
Cassandra continues to stare up at me, the glittering in her eyes shifting to something deeper, something heated. It calls to me, awakening desires for her beyond what was already there. The desire to take, to claim. Desires I can’t act upon or give in to.
Even though everything in me screams in protest, even though my wolf pleads with me to move forward instead of backwards, I tear myself away from her and back up against the far wall again,
arms crossed and eyes downcast. A growl of frustration escapes me, one I can’t hold back, fueled by the combined aggravation of my wolf and me.
“Pizza,” I say at the tail end of my growl. “You mentioned something about pizza?”
She tucks her hair behind her ears and nods. “I went ahead and ordered it when I didn’t hear back from you. It should be ready soon.”
“Pick up?” I ask, and she nods again. “I’ll go get it,” I offer, desperate for any excuse to get as far away from her as I can before I do something I can’t take back.
“Thanks,” she says.
I turn and walk to the front door, and her bare feet pad across the hall and into the bathroom, the door clicking shut and locking only seconds later.
And I grit my teeth and leave the house to grab our dinner, my head and my heart still at war with each other over what to do about the seeds Cassandra is planting in my life.
CASSANDRA
New Book: Veiled Desires of the Alpha King Novel
Dayson was the alpha of the largest pack in North America. Powerful figures from other packs sought to offer gorgeous girls as potential mates for Dayson. He steadfastly rejected these advances, he was not a pawn to be manipulated. But eventually there came a mysterious girl he could hardly say No. Who was she?