11. Vanessa
CHAPTER ELEVEN
VANESSA
Cupid barks a laugh. “Yeah, I noticed, but I wasn’t going to stop you when you were sliding down my dick.”
Freaking out, I shove against his chest until he pulls out of me. I ignore the delicious ache between my legs and the flood of wetness leaving my body. What’s harder to ignore is the long length of his dick hanging down his thigh, glistening with the evidence of what transpired between us.
What in the world was I thinking?!
Leaping from the bed, I run for the bathroom. I turn on the shower, whirling around to face him when he enters the small space. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugs, unbothered, completely comfortable in his nakedness.
It irritates me how distracted I am, transfixed by all his solid muscle covering his tall frame.
Cupid’s body is temptation enough to make me forget about why I’m panicking momentarily until he says, “Why would I? I figured you would’ve insisted on one if you wanted it. ”
My fingers fly into my hair, fisting it with both hands. “We’re strangers, Cupid.”
“Not anymore,” he says, waving off my concern. “Pretty well acquainted, I’d say. But I’m willing to get more acquainted if you’re done with your meltdown.”
“Cupid, this is serious. You know nothing of my medical or sexual history. And I know nothing of yours.”
He folds his arms, leaning against the doorframe without a care in the world.
“I’m a betting man, and I’m betting you went and got tested after finding out dick for brains cheated on you.
You seem like the kind of woman with a moral compass and wouldn’t put someone at risk if you knew you were contagious with anything. Am I right?”
My mouth hangs open, baffled that he had assumed correctly.
“I thought so,” he says smugly, quickly schooling his features to something more serious. “Before you get crazy thoughts in your head about me, my last labs were negative for everything.”
For a moment, I’m grateful he’s taking my concerns seriously. “When were those taken?”
“Nearly two years ago.”
“Two years ago?! A little old, don’t you think? Who’s saying you’ve contracted nothing since then?”
“I say so,” he says, deadpan. “I haven’t been with anyone since my last screening.”
“Wh-What?” I stammer, doing a double-take of the biker before me. “How is that possible?”
“Have found no one worth my time,” he says, holding my eyes, “until now.”
Speechless, I stare back at him as my tiny bathroom engulfs us in a cloud of steam, making him look more like a dream come true than a red flag.
I shake my head clear, focusing on the other issue at hand. “Great. Glad that’s settled. Now all we need is Plan B.”
Cupid’s face goes blank, as if he had never thought about pregnancy until I mentioned it. “You’re not on the pill or something?”
Swallowing down my unease, I shake my head. “I stopped taking them after calling it quits with Boden. I don’t like the side effects.”
Instead of panicking like me, Cupid looks thoughtful, staring off into space with a weird little smile on his face.
Why isn’t he freaking out? Most guys would rush out the door to the nearest drugstore, not chilling like our world isn’t imploding.
“Huh,” Cupid finally says, scratching his beard.
“What’s huh?”
“Bareback brain is wild,” he says, more to himself than to me. His eyes get glassy, as if he’s imagining something in his head. “It’s got me thinking one kid wouldn’t hurt.”
I damn near choke on my tongue. “One kid?!”
“Or two,” he muses with a shrug. His eyes come back into focus, finding me. His smile could split his face in half with how wide it grows.
“Are you crazy?” I ask in a whisper, hoping I’m misunderstanding him.
“Yes, probably,” Cupid says, still smiling. His eyes drift to my flat stomach before coming to my face. “Would you want a boy or a girl?”
Nu-uh! No way.
Unwilling to entertain his absurd question, I wag my finger at him. “Don’t get any crazy ideas. I’m not ready for kids.”
He pushes off the door, creeping toward me with a heated gaze. “What’s going to make you ready?”
“Minimum? Being done with my graduate program,” I answer flippantly.
“Which happens when?”
My stomach dips. “Mid-May.”
“Pretty sure a baby takes longer than a month to bake. Plenty of time to adjust to an alternative lifestyle,” he says in a low, soothing voice, attempting to put me at ease. “You don’t need to take anything. No Plan B. No birth control.”
“And condoms?” I ask, shrinking back. “You’ll wear condoms?”
“Sure, if I remember. Fair warning: I plan on forgetting.”
“Cupid,” I warn, my palms out in front of me like I can stop him from advancing.
“Think of the environment and all the plastic we’ll not be dumping into it,” he murmurs, moving closer to me. “Besides, you feel too good for me to wrap up again. If it happens, it happens.”
“Stop it,” I say weakly when he presses me against the wall, feeling my will crumble to dust around my feet. He’s quickly infiltrating my thoughts, making me want things I never considered before.
“No, I won’t,” he says, cupping my face in his big, calloused hands like I’m something worth treasuring.
“We don’t know each other,” I argue, taking a last stand. “You’re going to leave here and forget about me as soon as you’re out the door like every other guy before you.”
“No way in hell I could forget you, even if I tried.” He tilts my face to his, leaning in.
“This is fast,” I whisper, my heart racing the closer his lips come to mine. I feel my body subconsciously lean toward him, wanting him to kiss me and being powerless to control my urges. “We’re moving too fast.”
“Yeah, but it’s okay when we both want it.”
“I don’t even know your name,” I protest, my voice coming out all wispy.
“Elio. My name is Elio Amor.”
His road name suddenly makes a hell of a lot more sense, and he has struck me.
“Cupid,” I murmur, hypnotized.
“Psyche,” he says back, and then he kisses me.
Every rational thought I had is gone, shattered into smithereens along with my last wall of resistance around my heart. I don’t know what’s happening, whether these feelings we’re experiencing are real or not, but I’m willing to see where this leads us.
Things are turning hot and heavy when Rod Zombie’s Dragula plays somewhere in my apartment.
Cupid groans with annoyance, breaking the kiss and leaving the bathroom.
Is he really leaving me high and dry?
Stunned, I slip on my robe from the hook on the back of the bathroom door and follow him back to the bed where he fishes his cell out of his jeans.
He answers the call with a clip, “What?”
I hear chatter on the other end and loud music playing in the background, possibly a bar or club.
Cupid pinches the bridge of his angular nose. “What do you mean the Mercy Ravens are at my bar?”
There’s more chatter, coming faster before Cupid looks at the ceiling with a heavy sigh.
“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.
Doing as I was told, I locked it, leaning against the door and wondering what kind of man I got myself involved with.