Page 51 of Coveted By Cupid

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!”