Page 52 of Coveted By Cupid

“Like a diesel engine,” Cupid says with a chuckle, rubbing salt into the wound. “You’re my sexy little semi-truck, rumbling away in your slumber.”

With all the bickering happening between us, I hadn’t noticed how close Cupid got until he reaches out for me. I jump back with a squeak, running behind the couch to keep some distance between us. If the man gets his hands on me, I will fold like a lawn chair. I crave his touch too much to stay strong while having this discussion, and I’m pretty sure he knows it, too.

“Stay over there,” I warn, “or I’ll bash in your face. I’m an expert headbutter.”

Cupid throws his head back, laughing. “You’re cute when you threaten me.”

“I mean it,” I say, my voice shaky with rage. I’m also turned on by the feral way he’s looking at me and prowling forward all domineering. But to hell if I confess that to him—he would definitely use my horniness against me.

He looks at me with a wicked glint in his brown eyes. “Butterfly, don’t make me chase you. You know I will, and I really don’t want you hurting any more than you already do. Nor do I want to trigger you with any thoughts from the night before. The shit you went through is trauma enough without having to relive it in your head. Come sit down with me. Let’s talk.”

“No,” I snap stubbornly. “I’m mad at you.”

“It’s okay if you’re mad, but be mad at me on a comfortable couch where you can rest and bitch me out at the same time.”

He’s a sneaky man full of devious ways to get what he wants, and I’m not giving him another inch. I shake my head, refusing him.

I expect Cupid to argue with me, maybe run around the couch after me a few times before we each tired out, but I didn’t expect him to hop over the couch like he had springs on the bottoms of his feet and snag me around the waist in his muscled arms.

“Jesus Christ!” I scream, freezing in his embrace.

“I gotcha!”

The proud asshole sweeps me off my feet, carrying me bridal-style back around to sit on the leather couch. He plants his fine tush on the cushions, cradling me on his lap. I try scooting off him, attempting to put distance between us while we have our crucial confrontation. However, Cupid isn’t having it.

When he notices me pulling away, he repositions me to where I’m straddling his lap and facing him.

“What the hell, Cupid?!” I hiss, shoving at his chest and trying to climb off.

It’s embarrassing how easily he gathers my wrists when I’m fighting with all my might. He restrains me with little effort on his part. It’s not enough to hurt me, but it shows me he’s in control and I’m at his mercy. He places my hands against his chest where I can feel his steady heartbeat through his sweaty, thin t-shirt.

“Easy, Butterfly. We’re going to talk together like this, facing each other—not sitting on opposite ends of the couch.”

“Cupid, I don’t need to be on your lap to talk with you,” I snap back, my nostrils flaring.

“I can’t trust you won’t try to run off again, and any kind of physical activity right now will only prolong your healing,” he argues with a firm voice. “I want you here where I can see your eyes when we’re talking and make sure you’re not lying to me.”

Annoyed, I scoff. “That’s rich coming from the man who literally moved me into his place while I slept.”

“The difference is I can admit I was wrong for moving you without your consent. I don’t regret my decision, and I’d do it again to keep you safe and have us together, no matter how fast things are moving between us. And I sure as hell won’t apologize for doing the right thing at the moment. Unlike you, who continually lies to yourself and me, claiming our relationship is superficial when we both know it’s deep as fuck.”

Bewildered, all I can do is gawk at Cupid, realizing I have no defense against his accusation.

When I don’t argue back, Cupid settles against the couch cushions, still holding onto my hands against his chest. His face relaxes, his lips turning up in a tender smile as he stares at me with warm affection.

“Now, tell me all the ways I’m an asshole for overstepping, and I’ll show you all the ways I’ll make it up to you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CUPID

Goddamn, this woman makes me wild. I knew I would suffer her wrath when she woke, but I had hoped I’d be back from the club’s gym, showered, and back in bed with her to break the news to her gently when she opened her eyes. Having her find out on her own by waking up alone in a strange environment with all her stuff moved in had to be alarming, especially since I wasn’t present to answer for it.

My woman is angrier than a bull at a rodeo, ready to buck me out of her life. If I have any hope of breaking through to her, I need to deescalate the situation.

“I’m sorry I was not here when you woke up. I should have been with you.”

Vanessa’s eyebrows jump in surprise. She either wasn’t expecting me to apologize, or she’s not used to a man taking accountability for his actions.