23. Vanessa
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
VANESSA
When I wake again, it’s late. The drapes I had drawn back earlier are still open.
The sky outside is dark, and the downtown city lights are on, casting the room in a muted, moody orange light.
It’s bright enough that I can see around the room, but not as blinding as the morning sun earlier in the day.
I slowly sit upright in bed, finding Cupid reading in the corner with the floor lamp on to light the pages. He’s wearing black-framed glasses, giving him a more studious appearance.
Sensing he’s being watched, he abandons his reading and looks at me over the rim of his glasses.
He stayed.
My heart skips in my chest, pleased that he kept his word. I give him a little awkward wave from the bed. “Hi.”
“Evening, Butterfly.” Cupid sets his book down and crosses the room toward me, looking smoldering hot in the evening shadows and city lights dancing across his skin. He sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes assessing my face as if he’s making sure I’m okay. “How did you sleep?”
“Good. Better if I wasn’t hurting,” I admit, rubbing at my forehead where a headache is building.
Without me asking, Cupid grabs the pain medicine on the nightstand beside me, handing me two pills and my glass of water from earlier.
I take the meds, gulping the cool water.
He must have refreshed it recently while I slept.
It may seem like an insignificant gesture, but it shows me he cares—that’s a hell of a lot more than most guys I’ve been with.
Cupid takes the glass from my hands, setting it on the nightstand. He tenderly brushes my hair away from my face, his dark eyes softening as he takes me in. “You hungry?”
My stomach rumbles, answering for me. “It would seem so.”
Cupid chuckles. “Good. Oaks and Marlene are bringing dinner in a while. You’ll get to try some items on the menu in my restaurant downstairs.”
“Oh, that’s nice of them. Oaks is your VP, right?” I ask, recalling he said Marlene was his VP’s ole lady.
“Yeah, he is. He’s a pain in my ass, but he means well. Would you like to get cleaned up before dinner?”
Thinking about the spa-like shower in Cupid’s bathroom, I practically groan. Every ache in my body is pleading with me to step into those shower jets. “That sounds marvelous.”
Cupid helps me out of bed, taking me by the hand and leading me to the bathroom.
He turns on the lights, dimming them for my comfort.
He leaves my side to turn on the shower, filling the room with hot steam.
Digging through the vanity cabinet, he pulls out a big, fluffy white towel and washcloth and sets them on the counter next to the shower.
When he turns back around to face me, I expect him to leave and allow me a private moment. Clearly, I forgot who I’m dealing with.
Cupid moves in front of me, grabbing the hem of his shirt I’m wearing and lifting it over my naked bottom.
I gasp, pushing the shirt back down. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you undress,” Cupid says matter-of-factly, reaching down to drag the hem back up.
“I can undress myself,” I state a bit tersely, still uncomfortable with being taken care of.
“I enjoy undressing you,” he says in his deep voice I’m growing quite fond of, pulling the shirt over my head before I can refuse him again.
Standing naked before him, I grow self-conscious, and my body breaks out in a flush.
Yes, he’s seen me naked before and has been up close and personal with my lady bits.
Still, it’s only my second time being exposed in front of him, and the way his eyes are drinking me in like I’m his favorite whiskey has me flushing in more areas than just my face.
To break the lust spell, I march my ass right into the shower, turning my back on him. “Thanks for helping me. I’ve got it from here.”
“Are you sure about that?” his sultry voice says directly behind me.
Shocked, I spin on my heels, coming face-to-face with Cupid standing naked in the shower with me.
How the hell did he sneak up on me without me hearing him? And how did he undress so quickly?
When I open my mouth to ask him what he’s doing, the words get stuck in my throat.
Cupid’s muscled body glistens with water, making him look like an oiled-up cover model on a romance novel.
I watch the water trail down his toned torso to the V in his hips and the semi-hard enormous dick hanging between his legs.
Images of our first time together flood my mind, reminding me of what it felt like to have Cupid inside of me. How this man’s body moved inside of me has me seeing stars behind my eyelids still. I swear. My vagina had a pulse the whole next day, aching in all the best ways.
Realizing Cupid’s watching me, I quickly shake the memory away to confront him.
“Why are you in here? I didn’t invite you. And why are you naked? Put your clothes back on, Sir,” I demand, annoyed with how responsive my body is around this man.
Thank goodness I’m in the running shower to hide the slickness growing between my legs. Cupid seems like the type of man who would call me out on it if he knew.
The asshole smirks at my defensiveness, knowing exactly how his nakedness affects me. “Did you really think I wouldn’t get in the shower with you and miss an opportunity to get my hands on your sudsy body to help you bathe?”
When Cupid says it like that, I feel foolish for thinking otherwise, as well as eager for where these shower shenanigans may lead. My heart jackhammers in my chest, waiting to see what he does next.
“You need to understand something, Butterfly,” he says, lifting my chin until I have nowhere else to look but into his eyes.
“When we’re together, we’re together in everything.
You’ll never eat a meal alone if I’m here.
If you’re resting, I’m either lying beside you with you in my arms or I’m watching over you.
If you’re studying and I don’t have club business, I’ll be sitting near you with a book or listening to music.
If you’re getting in the shower, you damn well bet I will be in the shower with you, giving you all the attention I can.
And if you’re naked for whatever reason, I’m stripping down and we’re going skin-to-skin. ”
Whoa! I’m pretty sure tears of joy are running down the inside of my thighs.
Some women might take Cupid’s words as controlling, even smothering. For me, as a woman who has always wanted an active partner involved in all parts of my life, you’d think I ordered the man from my wish list with how perfect he is.
Still, the bossy ass needs to be put in his place for getting too pushy.
Placing my hands on my hips, I pull my face free from his hold on my chin and challenge him. “And what if I want space?”
His eyes darken at my defiance, and he crowds me, placing his hands on either side of the shower wall and trapping me between his arms. “You’ve had space from me for twenty-three years.
There’s no more space. You’re with me—always.
If you get pissed at me, you hash it out with me right there.
You feel like crying, you’ll do it against my chest. And when you’re happy, you’re sharing your joy with me. Ya hear me?”
“Loud and clear. But what if I get sick?” I ask with fake concern, mocking his territorial behavior.
He leans forward, rubbing his nose against mine. “Then I guess we’ll be sick together ‘cause I’m not letting you leave my side. Do I make myself clear, or would you like a demonstration?”
“A demonstration would be nice,” I say with saccharine sweetness, fluttering my eyelashes.
Surprised by my reaction, he pulls back an inch. His eyes dart between mine, trying to get a read on me. His confusion transforms into a frown once he realizes I’m teasing him. “You were baiting me, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” I say with a victorious smile, running my finger down the center of his abs. “But I still want that demonstration. Bathe me, shower boy.”
My biker is having a hard time fighting the smile on his face from forming. “You’re a brat.”
“I’ve already told you, I’m not a brat.” And then I stick my tongue out at him.
With a shake of his head, Cupid takes me by the hips, moving me backwards into the shower jets blasting from the tiled walls.
The hot water cascades over my head and down my body, washing away the grit left on me from the night before.
I release a deep moan, enjoying the heat and spray on my aching muscles.
“That’s it, Butterfly. Relax and let me take care of you,” he coos against the shell of my ear, leaning in to kiss the crook of my neck.
I shiver where his lips press against my already sensitive skin, warm tingles of pleasure spreading through my body and lighting a fire deep inside my core. His gentle touch makes me crave more of his attention, and I lean into him, seeking more.
Unfortunately, Cupid pulls away right as I’m ready to climb him like a tree and seat myself on his growing cock.
He reaches for my bottle of shampoo—mine, from the looks of it.
He must have unpacked it for me earlier.
The fact that Cupid knew I would appreciate my shower supplies over his manly ones and put them out for my use has scored him big brownie points.
He pours a generous amount of shampoo into his palm, lathering his hands. “Head back.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say automatically. It’s one thing to have him make me lunch or help get me settled, but having him provide personal care is a foreign concept to me.
Ignoring me, Cupid turns me until my back is to his front. “I want to. Be a good girl and tilt your head back for me.”
Good girl?! If it were any other man calling me that, I’d tear him a new one. However, Cupid calling me a good girl has my pussy quivering with need.
Obeying, I drop my head back, closing my eyes as he carefully works the shampoo through my hair. He gently massages my scalp, using his thumbs to make small circles around my head.
“Feels so good,” I praise in a mumbled voice.