20. Vanessa
CHAPTER TWENTY
VANESSA
I’m seconds away from breaking into a panic attack when I hear the door down the hall between the kitchen and bedrooms open—the one I had yet to explore.
Cupid comes around the corner in athletic gear and a sheen of sweat coating his skin, looking every bit of the Roman god he’s named after. He obviously has come back from a workout, and I would drool at the sight of him if I wasn’t alarmed with him uprooting me from my life.
When he sees me standing in the middle of his living room among all my things, he freezes. His eyes are wide as if he wasn’t expecting me.
Well, I wasn’t expecting to be here either.
Neither of us says anything for a hot minute until I break the silence. My voice is barely above a whisper. “What’s happening?”
Guarded, Cupid steps forward, like he’s afraid he’ll frighten me and I’ll run.
News flash: I’m already scared out of my mind. A man I barely know has moved me into his place without my consent. That’s Dateline newsworthy scary shit.
“Butterfly,” Cupid says cautiously in a deep voice. “Welcome to your new home.”
“My home?” I shake my head, backing away from him. “No, I have my own place, an apartment back in Fort Collins.”
Cupid shakes his head, his expression stern. “Not anymore.”
“Not anymore?” I parrot in confusion, my voice increasing an octave in fear. “What do you mean, not anymore?”
He follows me around the room, refusing to give me space. “I mean, you live here now—with me.”
I shake my head, panic mode activated. “No, no, no. I didn’t agree to this.”
“I never asked for your permission.”
“No shit! Thanks for pointing out the obvious.”
“How could I? You passed out after being attacked. I needed to move you to safety.”
I blink, letting his words sink in. “You brought me here to protect me?”
He nods, his face softening a fraction. “Of course. I want you safe.”
I let out a sigh of relief, placing my hand on my chest where my heart had been racing seconds ago. “Oh, thank God. My mind went a little wild there for a second. I get it now. This is a temporary arrangement.”
Cupid raises an eyebrow. “Temporary?”
“Yeah, as soon as the police find the creeps who tried to take me, it’ll be safe for me to move back into my apartment.
I mean, I appreciate you packing up all my stuff to make sure I had everything I needed while staying here with you.
But you probably didn’t need to move everything, like my kitchen stuff.
I’d be fine without it for the time being.
Although I’m glad you brought my grandpa’s mug. That’s my favorite.”
My biker groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You think this is temporary?”
His words confuse me. “Isn’t it?”
The gorgeous biker looks at me with a firm gaze. “No, Butterfly. It’s not temporary.”
All the relief I felt moments ago has been flushed from my system, leaving me in a state of shock.
As if he can see my guard is down, Cupid steps closer. “You’re my woman. I want you with me. I agree things are moving fast, but you living with me was going to happen eventually. After what went down last night, the move-in date bumped up to sooner, and I’m more than fine with it.”
“What about what I want?” I ask with my stomach in my throat, stepping back when he inches forward. “Don’t I get a say in all of this?”
“Believe me, Vanessa. You want this, too. You’re just afraid of admitting it,” he says casually, confident in his assessment.
A surge of resistance rises within me. “Is this how things are going to be? You’re making life-altering decisions for the two of us without input from me?”
“Would you have said yes if I had asked first?”
“Heck no,” I blurt.
He points a thick finger at me. “And that is why I wasn’t willing to wait for you to wake up if all you were going to do was tell me no.”
My mouth drops open for a moment before I gather my thoughts, fueled with fury. “You’re an asshole!”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Cupid says mockingly. “Look, Butterfly. I know what I want, and it’s you. You want me, too—you’re just denying it to yourself.”
A deep secret part inside of me knows he’s speaking the truth.
I want him and I want to believe we’re meant to be—as dululu as it may sound with only knowing the man a couple of days.
I’m well aware I’m being stubborn out of spite.
However, if I let him think it’s okay to run the show and steamroll over me without taking my thoughts or feelings into consideration, our relationship will never survive the long haul.
“If you think for one second I will let you walk all over me like a damn doormat, you have another think coming, Elio Amor.”
Cupid does a double-take. “Did you just refer to me by my legal name?”
“I sure did. It’s not nice when someone does or says something without your permission, is it?”
“On the contrary,” he says in a sultry voice, “I love hearing my name on your lips.”
Geez. This man is impossible to argue with.
“Do I look like the kind of woman who’s going to roll over and take it?”
“Fuck, beautiful,” Cupid groans, adjusting himself through his athletic shorts. “Don’t talk like that. I can’t have you while you’re healing.”
My nostrils flare, half expecting steam to billow out of them.
Angrily, I launch a cork coaster from the end table at Cupid, hitting him square in the chest. It bounces off his ridiculously chiseled abs, and he watches it fall to the floor at his feet before looking back at me.
“I’m guessing I misinterpreted your question as sexual when it wasn’t?”
I huff, folding my arms over my chest. “You think?”
He sighs, tired as if he’s trying to reason with a tantrum-throwing toddler. “Come sit down and we’ll talk.”
“Nu-uh. I’m not letting you try to sweet-talk your way out of this mess. You want me compliant so I’ll give into your demands easier.”
“Tempting, but no,” he says, eyeing me up and down with a heated gaze. “I like you fiery. If I wanted a passive woman, I wouldn’t be sharing a home with you. But as it turns out, I like testy brats.”
Not going to lie. His words are kind of sweet, in an assholery kind of way.
“We hardly know each other,” I say for what seems like the millionth time. “Living together could be disastrous. For all I know, you might snore. I can’t live with someone who snores.”
Cupid smirks. “I assure you, if I snore, it’s nothing compared to how you were snoring last night next to me in bed.”
Insulted, I gasp. “I do not snore!”
“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.”