7. Vanessa
CHAPTER SEVEN
VANESSA
It’s well past ten at night when my shift ends. I yawn into my hand as I make my way to the front door. George holds it open for the remaining staff before locking up for the night.
“Night, George,” I say in a tired voice.
“Goodnight. Stay vigilant on your way home,” George says, reminding me there’s someone on the loose abducting women from campus.
With a little wave, I say goodbye to the rest of my colleagues and exit the deli and head straight home. A shower and sleep are the only remaining tasks of my long day.
My feet drag as I take the steps to the second floor and down the hall to my apartment. I unlock my door, stepping inside to a dark apartment. With a tired sigh, I lock the door behind me, slumping against it.
What a day. What was supposed to be a low-key Saturday, getting my bike fixed and working a full shift, turned into a road race with a one-percent biker and a food fight with my ex in the deli.
I’ve had worse weekends, but this was certainly the most eventful. As scary as it was to be chased by a potentially dangerous man on a motorcycle, it was nice to feel desired by a ruggedly handsome stranger, if only for a fleeting moment.
Not bothering to turn on the lights, I kick off my sneakers, too tired to line them up on the shoe rack by the door like I normally would. Tidying up can wait until tomorrow.
My apron comes off next, hanging it on the hook near the door.
As I head towards the bathroom, I pull my shirt over my head and unzip my pants.
I turn on the bathroom light, throwing my clothes in the hamper, before heading out of the bathroom to grab some pajamas from my dresser to change into after my shower.
As I’m rummaging through my drawers, I hear a buzzing behind me.
What the…
I turn towards the noise and nearly leap out of my skin when I see an enormous shadow sprawled across my bed.
Scared shitless, I stagger back against the wall, my voice stuck in my throat. I’m shaking so damn hard my knees are knocking.
The buzzing stops. The silence that follows is deafening, making my nerves stand at attention.
Swallowing the lump of dread in my throat, I croak, “W—Who’s there?”
The buzzing starts again, taunting me, only to stop after a few seconds.
Is…is that my vibrator? Oh my word, why is someone playing with my vibrator?!
“Who are you?” I ask again with a squeak in my voice.
The shadow rises from the bed, huge and daunting. I bite down on my lower lip to stop myself from whimpering.
The figure moves slowly toward me. I shrink against the wall as if I can make myself smaller and disappear.
The buzzing starts, stops, starts, stops…and then nothing.
A sickly sweet-smelling sweat creeps across my skin, pluming the surrounding air with my fear and chilling me to the bone. “What do you want?”
“To play,” a deep, rough voice says easily, sounding oddly familiar. “Question is, are you going to run away this time?”
My fight-or-flight response finally kicks into overdrive, and I bolt for the front door. I don’t make it a few feet before a steel arm snakes around me, dragging me against a solid, muscled body.
Before I can scream my head off, a heavy palm clamps over my mouth, silencing me.
“Shush, Vanessa,” the strong, familiar voice purrs. “We don’t want to wake the neighbors.”
Hearing his voice again, I stop struggling. There’s no way it’s him.
“Good girl,” he croons, feeling me go limp in his arms. “That’s right, relax. I won’t hurt you.”
For a moment, I get lost in the soothing voice of my trespasser, breathing in the spicy notes of leather and musk coming off his muscled body.
My intruder removes his hand, spinning me around to face him. I strain my eyes in the muted light filtering out from the bathroom to see the face I have been daydreaming about all day.
Cupid smirks, leaning in close enough to my face that his warm breath washes over my skin. “Did you miss me, Psyche?”
I shove against his hard chest, attempting to put distance between us, but he doesn’t budge an inch.
“You asshole!” I shout. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Naw. I don’t believe little Miss Terror on Wheels scares easily.” He chuckles, releasing me. “Where’d you learn to ride like that, anyway?”
His question catches me off guard. “My grandpa. He was a mechanic in a garage. Bikes were his specialty. He had me riding dirt bikes before I was twelve, motorcycles by sixteen.”
Cupid nods like he expected my answer. “He raised you?”
“Yes,” I clip, hating the trajectory of his probing, yet unable to stop myself from answering.
“And your parents? Where are they?”
“Dead,” I say flatly. “They overdosed at a friend’s party when I was a toddler. My dad’s dad took me in and raised me like his own. He was all I had.”
Cupid’s hard face softens. He glances at my shelves filled with psychology books and old photos of me with my grandpa, eyeing them as if he’s putting the pieces of a puzzle together.
“Sounds like your granddad was a good man.” He takes a step back, giving me room, yet does not leave me alone.
The surrounding air feels cool without his warmth near me, and I shiver.
Suddenly, I’m hyperaware I’m standing in front of him in my underwear.
“Jesus,” I mutter, lunging for the emerald blanket on the back of my couch and wrapping it around me like a burrito. “You couldn’t have made your presence known sooner, like before you watched me undress?”
Cupid shrugs, unashamed. “I wanted to see if you could sense my presence.”
“Bullshit. You wanted a peep show, you pervert,” I accuse heatedly.
“That, too.” He gives me a broad grin, his eyes trailing over my now covered body. “It was a fabulous show while it lasted.”
I huff, tightening my grip on the blanket around me like it’s a shield of security. “Why are you here?”
The biker moves in, but I hold my ground, going toe-to-toe with him. “I wanted to pick up where we left off.”
“So you tracked me down to my apartment like some obsessed stalker?”
“Uh, yeah? What else was I supposed to do?” he asks, frowning, like I’m the confused one. “It’s not like you gave me your address or number.”
The audacity of this man… “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
“Hey, you started this,” Cupid says, waving his hand between us. “I’m just following through.”
My eyes roll. “I winked at you. That’s it. You’re making it into something it’s not.”
He gives me a heated look, one that makes my skin flush like a wanton woman. “We both know it’s not nothing.”
I ignore him, doing my best to calm down my inner slut. “Whatever. I’m sure hundreds of women flirt with you daily. I’m just one of many.”
The grin on this man is enough to melt panties. “Are you jealous, Vanessa? Thinking about all those women hitting on me daily?”
I scoff, folding my arms over my chest to hold my blanket up and hating how he picked up on my dislike for anyone who has ogled him. “You wish.”
He chuckles, ducking to get right in my face. “I do. I like a territorial woman. Jealousy suits your bratty attitude.”
“I am not a brat,” I hiss, squaring my shoulders.
“You are and I like it,” he says with a cocky smile, reaching out to grab the knot I tied in the blanket near my chest. “But it ends now. Drop the attitude before I make it drip out of you.”
My mouth falls open. “Excuse me?!”
“I warned you.” Cupid yanks the blanket open, exposing my nearly naked body to his view again.
“The fuck do you think you’re doing?!” I screech.
Without warning, Cupid grabs me behind my thighs and hoists me into his massive arms. I instinctively grab on to his shoulders, afraid of falling.
“That’s right. You hang on tight.”
He spins us toward my bed, unfazed when I smack his chest.
“Put me down!”
“No problem.”
He dumps me on the bed, unceremoniously. I bounce on the mattress on my back, gasping with shock. Seeing his hulk-size shape looming over me, I scramble to my knees to get off the bed, but Cupid slaps my ass when I roll to the other side to avoid him.
Spinning back around, I’m afraid of how much my body enjoyed the spank. “OW! You, asshole! You spanked me!”
“Keep it up and I’ll give you a dozen more,” Cupid warns again with a hint of humor in his sultry voice.
He crawls onto the bed like a tiger on the hunt, and I’m his prey. I scurry backward on the mattress, stopping when I hit the headboard. My eyes are fixated on him, mesmerized by the way his bulky muscles move under his clothes.
Having me right where he wants me, Cupid hovers over me. His body is so close, but not touching me. His lack of contact only heights the ache growing between my legs.
Cupid holds my stare, his chest heaving like he’s barely controlling himself, and that somehow makes me want to do wild things with this man.
“You’re at a crossroads, Vanessa. One way this plays out is you telling me to fuck off, and I’ll honor your wish. The other way is that you finally give in to me, and we both get what we want. Either path has no return, so choose wisely.”
I know what I should do. I should tell him to get the hell off me and to leave me alone. It’s the smart choice, the safe choice.
But the way this man looks at me has me feeling things I’ve never felt before, not with any of the guys I’ve crushed on, hooked up with, or dated. What I feel with Cupid is a need to be wanted, to be desired. A need to be someone’s everything, no matter how short the time together is.
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.”