Page 22 of Coveted By Cupid

Cupid, as unhinged as he seems, looks at me the way I’ve always wanted someone to admire me. His brown eyes dance across my exposed skin, admiring every freckle and curve. With how wet I’m growing between my thighs, my body is practically weeping to be with him.

I’m overthinking this. It’s sex, not a commitment.

And I really want to have sex with this man.

Getting out of my head, I drop my thighs open underneath him, shocking the hell out of both of us when I boldly say, “I pick the latter.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

VANESSA

Cupid’s face swiftly morphs from stunned to smug. The corners of his lips turn up in a wicked smile, the kind that makes you wet between your thighs and want to rub yourself all over him.

“Proud much?” I challenge snippily, unable to let him fully enjoy his victory.

As upset as I am with myself for caving as fast as I did for the biker, it’s not enough for me to back out, not when I’m about to get off with this Roman god.

“Very,” he says cheekily, my jab rolling off his shoulders like nothing.

He moves in, his face inches from mine. My throat goes dry, growing thirstier by the second for this man. I lick my lips, and he tracks the movement with his dark brown eyes.

“You have no clue what you agreed to, do you?”

Scoffing, I roll my eyes. “Do I look like an idiot?”

I agreed to sex, preferably the fantastic kind where my legs can’t stop shaking from multiple orgasms. I’ve never experienced that level of pleasure before, but maybe I’m looking at the man who will make it happen.

A girl can dream.

Cupid chuckles under his breath. He takes me in with a glint of triumph in his eyes. “Remember, you agreed to this, Psyche.”

Hmm. Cupid knows my name, but he’s called me Psyche a few times now. What does it mean?

I’m about to ask him when, without preamble, Cupid claims my mouth with his.

Holy hell! If I weren’t lying down already, I’d swoon on the spot.

His mouth is aggressive against mine, boldly taking what he wants from me. I moan when I feel his tongue push past my lips into my mouth, sweeping against my tongue in long, fluid strokes. The kiss isn’t rushed, but it is intense, making me crave more. He tastes like cinnamon gum, spicy and enticing—my new favorite flavor.

My mouth moves in rhythm with his, never wanting to come up for air. If I suffocate, so be it—I’ll go out one lucky woman.

Cupid’s lips feel too good not to want to touch the rest of him. I wrap my arms around him, needing him closer, and he obliges. My body melts into the sheets beneath me when he covers me with his muscled frame. His weight is like a weighted blanket, cocooning me in warmth and protection.

It’s funny how a stranger can make me feel this comfortable this quickly. The man is dangerous—I don’t need to know him personally to realize that. But there’s something, an intuition perhaps, telling me to relax and letting me know I’m safe with him.

Cupid must sense my complete submission, releasing a pleased growl against my mouth. He breaks the kiss, pulling away.

“Come back,” I whimper, reaching for him.

“I’m not going anywhere, beautiful,” he says with a smile in his voice before whipping his t-shirt over his head, revealing chiseled pecs, boxed abs, and the most beautiful outline of a black butterfly pierced by an arrow tattooed across his expansive chest. My fingers hover above it, wanting to trace the gorgeous artwork with my fingertips.

My eyes home in on his toned torso, watching the way his muscles flex with each movement he makes. He’s gorgeous, cut in all the right places.

Eager to see the rest of him, I sit upright, grabbing the belt at his jeans and tugging it open.

Cupid removes my hands from his belt, pinning them to my sides. “Nu-uh, greedy brat. I’m not rushing. You’ve been on my mind all day, and I’m going to savor every second I have with you.”

Oh, my. He’s been thinking of me all day?