Without warning, Wesley lifted me up onto the pool table. His hands moved to my shoulders, and a second later, I was flat on my back, staring up at him as he smirked. He shifted so that he was on the table too, leaning over me with his face only inches from mine.“On the pool table?” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “Seriously?”“I can’t resist,” he said. “You know, you’re pretty sexy when you’re pissed at me, Duffy.”First, I was struck by the irony of that statement. I mean, he used sexy and Duffy-implying I was fat and ugly-in the same sentence. The contrast was almost laughable. Almost.