Page 31 of Cupid Is A Liar


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I press my palm flat to his chest. Firm.

“No.”

Damian freezes instantly.

That alone matters.

His hands lift, empty, deliberate. He steps back, giving me space. I suck in a deep breath. My pulse is racing—not because he touched me, but because helistened.

I swallow. “You don’t get to decide what I need. Not after what you just told me.”

His jaw tightens. He nods once. “You’re right.”

That word,right, hit harder than any excuse could’ve.

“I have to know something,” I say, forcing my voice to be steady. “Did you ever plan on telling me?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” he admits quietly. No spin. No charm. “I thought I was okay with it. Living by myself. My only real, or not so real, interaction watching you, but I see I was lonely and now that I’ve spent time with you, well… it’s not going to be enough. Going back to how things were. I want more. I want…” He swallows, his throat bobbing, then finishes his thought, “you. I want you, Hannah.”

That honesty is dangerous. It makes me want to run, but it also makes me want to stay…and that terrifies me.

I fold my arms. “You don’t get to keep me by trapping me.”

“I know.” He looks wrecked. “That’s why I’m telling you now. And why I’m not touching you unless you ask me to.”

Silence stretches between us. Heavy. Charged.

I should throw him out.

Instead, I ask, “What else do you know about me?”

He hesitates. “Do you want the truth?”

“Yes.”

He exhales. “Everything.”

My chest tightens.

“Let me prove it to you,” he continues, his voice rough. He glances at the clock over my stove. “We’ve got one hour left.”

“One hour of what?” I frown, baffled.

“Valentine’s Day.” His eyes never leave mine. “Let me prove that I can give you the perfect Valentine’s date. You deserve it. Meet me on the roof. Thirty minutes.”

I laugh once, sharp. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I know.” A beat. “You don’t have to come. I’ll walk away if you say the word.”

I search his face, really look this time, trying to find the man underneath.

Obsessive? Yes.

Dangerous? Probably.

Liar? No.

“What happens if I don’t show up?” I ask.