Page 32 of Coveted By Cupid

“Fine. Tell them I’m coming. I’ll be there within the hour. Send away any remaining customers—we don’t want any eyewitnesses if shit goes south. Keep them entertained until I arrive. Just don’t piss them off, alright?”

Cupid ends the call, turning to me with apologies in his soft brown eyes. “I need to go, beautiful. Something has come up at the club I need to take care of.”

“With the Fort Collins bikers?” I ask, suddenly worried for Cupid’s safety.

Everyone in my city knows the local MC and respects them for the work they do in the community to keep it safe. It doesn’t mean they’re a safe group for other bikers, especially a one-percenter MC from a neighboring city.

He nods, gathering his clothes from the floor as he mutters, “Fucking Mercy Ravens.”

My hands wring together. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

“The timing is shit, but our meeting is long overdue,” Cupid says, yanking on his pants. “And if I’m riding into town to see you, they need to know who I am and trust that I’m not a threat.”

“You really plan on coming to see me again?” My heart flutters at the idea he’s truly interested in more than a one-night stand.

“One thing you’ll learn about me is that I don’t make false promises. I told you, you’re mine, and I meant it.” He waves a hand between us, his face hardening with severity. “This thing between us is happening. You had your chance to back out before we fooled around, and you chose me. I’m not going anywhere. You best get on board fast.”

I run a hand down my face, still struggling to wrap my head around what’s happening between us.

“Come home with me,” he says, pulling me out of my head.

My eyes jump to his, widening. “You want me to go with you?”

“And have you in my bed tonight? Yeah, no-brainer. I can introduce you to the rest of the crew—they’ll want to meet you once I tell them you’re my woman.”

I hold up my hands, palms out. “Wait. You actually want me?”

“Have you been listening to anything I told you? Yes, I want you—brat baddie and all,” he says nonchalantly while pulling his shirt over his head and making me miss seeing all his bulky muscles flexing. He steps toward me. “Where’s your cell?”

Dazed, I move to the front door where my cell is still in the pocket of my deli apron and pull it out.

He takes it from me, syncing our contacts before handing my cell back. He holds his phone out in front of us. “Smile, Butterfly.”

Responding with a knee-jerk reaction, I smile at the camera on his cell as he takes a photo of the two of us. Cupid swoops in to plant a wet one on my cheek, snapping the picture. He glances at the image on his screen, nodding with approval before pocketing his cell.

“Grab an overnight bag and we’ll hit the road.”

A flurry of excitement has me almost doing it when I remember my schedule for the next day. “I can’t. I have an early morning lecture tomorrow, followed by my internship at the counseling center and work at the deli afterward.”

Cupid frowns, looking put out. “And I suppose none of these things on your schedule can be skipped?”

I shake my head. “I can’t, not this close to the end of the semester. My internship hours are mandatory for me to graduate on time. And I need to work to afford my rent.”

He nods, thankfully understanding and not pushing to have it his way. “What time will you be done tomorrow?” He asks, lacing up his biker boots.

“I work until closing again.”

“Then I’ll be here when you get done.” He says, standing upright and placing a gentle kiss on my lips with a softness I never thought a rugged biker like him could possess. “Lock up when I leave. I don’t trust fuckwad not making another appearance after I go, and I need you safe. I’m bringing an extra deadbolt to install tomorrow.”

“My landlord said I can’t do anything to alter the exterior door.”

“Fuck your landlord,” he says firmly. “I need my woman safe when I’m not near. I’ll pay the fine for you.”

I say nothing, accepting that my safety is something he’s not willing to compromise on.

Cupid wraps me in his thick arms, pulling me against his firm chest. He kisses the top of my head, breathing me in as if he’s committing my scent to memory. “I need to go. The club is waiting on me.”

Without another word, Cupid slips out my apartment door, shutting it behind him.