Can't Fix Cupid

by Raven Kennedy

  “I know. I’m sorry that you have to keep saving my ass like that. I’m not used to…” My words trail off.

  “Not used to what?”

  “Life, I guess,” I answer in a small voice.

  Something indecipherable crosses over his face before it disappears again, and he clears his throat. “Eat and get ready. I’ll be waiting for you downstairs.”

  He walks out of the room, leaving me alone, and I sigh slightly as I look down at the breakfast. I don’t know how to handle my convoluted feelings for him, so I guess I’ll just eat. French toast doesn’t come with emotional strings. At least, not that I know of.

  When I dig into the spread, there are no dainty bites or ladylike chewing. I gobble the shit like I’m a damn turkey.

  But if I thought the food was good, it’s got nothin’ on Warren’s shower. I always knew it looked kickass, but that thing deserves an award.

  It takes some serious self-control to pull my ass out from under the amazing streams of water and into a towel. I can’t help but look back longingly at the shower head as I dry off.

  Digging through his drawers, I manage to find a small brush, and I comb out the tangles in my hair. The length of my hair only reaches my chin, but I don’t know what to do with it after I brush it, since Blue has done my hair for me for the past several days.

  I try to braid it, but apparently, that’s just not a skill I’m capable of. Knowing that I’m running out of time, I decide to just let it air dry and hope I don’t end up looking like a ball of cotton candy.

  The outfit that Warren brought me is a simple black dress that hits me mid-thigh, the square neckline modest and professional. The fabric is nice, and I feel important, like one of the many successful people that work in his office. Unlike the stuff I’ve gotten from the communal bin, this fits me perfectly. Even the black lace panties and bra are the perfect size.

  I wonder where the clothes came from and grimace a little when the thought crosses my mind that this could be his own communal bin, left behind from women he’s had over. I sincerely hope not, but I don’t have any other options to wear, unless I want to put on the denim dress again. Which I don’t, because it reeks of weed and reminds me of Sparrow.

  When I walk downstairs, wearing the short black pumps he left for me, I find Warren in his kitchen sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee in his hand. I peer over his shoulder to look into the cup as I pass by. “Of course you like your coffee black,” I tease.

  Warren looks up from his phone, and his dark eyes assess me. I run nervous hands down the dress. “Do I look okay?”

  His brown eyes lock on mine. “You look great.”

  I breathe out a little sigh of relief and smile. “Thanks. That would’ve really sucked if you said I looked crappy,” I say with a little laugh.

  Instead of matching my amusement, Warren simply shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter what you wear, you could never look crappy.”

  The familiar charge in the air leaps up between us once again, making my breath catch in my throat.

  I’m leaving, I remind myself over and over again. I’m leaving, I’m leaving, I’m leaving.

  I don’t know what expression he sees on me, but Warren’s face suddenly shutters, and he looks away. “Are you ready to go?” he asks without looking at me.

  I silently chastise myself for my reaction and how dismissive I acted. Before he can walk away, I quickly reach out and grasp him by the wrist, stopping him in his tracks. “You could never look crappy either,” I tell him, my voice shyer than usual. Man, I’m such a nerd. I’m supposed to be a love goddess, and the best I could come up with was, you could never look crappy either? Sev would facepalm so hard right now.

  Warren assesses me again, like he’s trying to see if I’m being sincere or not, and then a flicker of amusement crosses over his face. “Yeah? Do I look better than that jerkoff last night wearing the turtleneck?”

  I grimace at the memory of Sparrow’s hands on me, and I shiver slightly. “Definitely,” I say without hesitation. “There’s no way that Sparrow could match your level of debonair, Mr. Knight.”

  Warren scoffs with derision. “Of course the fucktard’s name was Sparrow,” he says scathingly.

  “I thought he was artsy and different,” I admit. “But it turns out he was just a douche with really strong weed,” I chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. It doesn’t work.

  “Well, he better hope that he never sees me again, because the next time I do, I won’t let him off so easily.”

  I tilt my head, studying him curiously, but then the pieces quickly fall together, and I smack a palm to my forehead for being such an idiot. “So that’s why you got so mad at me that day,” I say, dropping my hand. “You...I hurt you,” I say with a bit of awe, because honestly, it’s unbelievable.

  I’m not the only one in this unlikely duo who’s developed feelings. His temper, the way he reacted when I tried to set him up again...I should have recognized it for what it was. But I suppose when we’re closest to each other, that’s when we’re often the most blind.

  Now I feel awful.

  “I didn’t realize that you had feelings for me,” I say, taking a step towards him. He shifts on the barstool, turning his body towards me as I step between his legs. “Honestly, it doesn’t make any sense. I mean, you’re you,” I say, waving a hand up and down at him.

  His dark eyebrows pull together. “What does that mean?”

  “Well, look at you. You’re Warren Knight. The ridiculously hot, successful, rich, aloof, asshole bachelor. You date Hollywood stars, and even then, you never seem to like anyone you date.”

  He looks away uncomfortably and gets up, moving around me to put his cup in the sink. “We should go, or we’ll be late.”

  My eyebrows practically shoot to my hairline as I look from him to the sink and back again. “Oh shit, I totally have you flustered,” I say as a slow, flattered smile spreads across my face. I’m right. He does like me. He never leaves dishes in the sink. Ever.

  “What are you talking about now?” he demands.

  I grin. “It’s true. You have a massive crush on me.”

  When I realized I had feelings for him last night, I never imagined that he would actually reciprocate them. But based on the way he’s nervously pulling on his tie and the red blush that’s creeping up his neck, I know I’m right.

  He shuffles me out the front door, and I follow him to his car, where a driver is already waiting. He holds the door open, and I get in, letting my fingers run over the smooth leather seat as he slides in after me.

  “Now that I know the reason, I think it’s cute that you got all huffy puffy mad at me,” I say as the car pulls out of the driveway. The back is completely private, with a fancy partition separating us from the driver.

  “I don’t huff.”

  I scoot closer to him, letting our thighs touch, and he tenses slightly.

  “There was definitely huffing,” I say pragmatically. My eyes drop down to the front of his slacks before raising again. “Next time, you should just tell a girl that you have a big, gigantic, throbbing crush on her.”

  He chokes a bit and looks over at me incredulously. I just wink at him because making Warren Knight flustered is basically the most fun I’ve ever had. “Don’t worry, I have a super big crush on you, too, Mr. Asshole Bachelor Dud.”

  He skips over my nickname. “You do?” he asks suspiciously.

  “Yep, I realized it last night.”

  “When?”

  I tap my lip in thought, noticing the way his eyes lock on my mouth. “I guess it was right around the time I saw you playing footsies with your date.”

  He blinks at me, his eyebrows pulling together. “I was not playing footsies.”

  “Eh. It was dark. So who really knows?”

  “Me. I know. Because I wasn’t playing footsies with her.”

  I cock a brow. “You got something against footsies?”

  “What? No, that’s not...I
mean…” he trails off, totally befuddled. See? So much fun.

  I laugh. “Oh shit, you’re so easy to rile up. I love it.”

  He shoots me a look. “What am I going to do with you?” he asks, though it seems like it’s a question more for himself.

  “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “But you better figure it out quick.”

  “Why?”

  I let out a sigh and relax back on the seat. “Because, I’m leaving,” I admit, my expression turning sober.

  He straightens his black tie against his shirt and leans back as well, his knees spread wide enough that our thighs are still touching. That innocent connection alone makes my pulse race.

  “I’m only here for a little while…for work,” I explain lamely.

  He runs a hand over his jaw. “I see.”

  “But I wondered…” I lick my lips nervously before my eyes drop down to my lap. Shit. What am I thinking? I need to stop. I need to—

  I startle when he’s suddenly right there, his curved finger tipping up my chin. My breath catches in my throat at our close proximity as my eyes lock onto his. He’s completely crowded my space, our faces so close that I notice little spots of gold in his eyes. I can feel the heat of him, like it wants to wrap around me. The intense masculinity of his entire being tries to encompass my whole world, and I think I’m going to let it.

  “You wondered what? Tell me,” he says, and the quiet order from his demanding lips sends a shiver down my spine. His touch moves from beneath my chin until his palm is cupping the back of my neck.

  I swallow hard, trying to get my brain to form coherent words, but it’s so hard when he’s touching me like this. I’ve never experienced these sensations, but I don’t need my tingling cupid mark to tell me what it is.

  Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t—

  “I wondered if we could...do this?” I blurt out, and my brain sucker-punches my heart for being such an idiot. “I’m leaving anyway, so you don’t have to worry about me hanging on. I know you don’t do commitment.”

  “I don’t,” he admits.

  That admission should make me sad, but I’m too wrapped up in the way his thumb is stroking the back of my neck, and the way his legs move so that my knees shift between them.

  I convince myself that this is fine. That this solution will work. We’ll just enjoy each other for a little while, have fun.

  “So that’s okay,” I tell him shakily, so full of desire that I’m practically trembling.

  I want him to kiss me. I want it so badly that I’m sure my eyes are pleading with him. My lips are basically on bended knee. My tongue is ready to kiss his feet and beg for it.

  Of its own volition, my hand snakes out, and my fingertips gently run against his delicious stubble. I’ve been dying to do it all morning. His eyes darken, and that electrical charge between us seems to spike.

  “You’re leaving, and I can’t commit,” he says quietly, making my eyes follow the movements of his lips.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Did I lean in closer, or was that him?

  His fingers move up, threading through my hair. His other hand goes to my waist, digging in like he’s afraid I’ll slip away.

  “So maybe—”

  I interrupt whatever he was going to say by not so gracefully slamming my lips to his.

  And...I’ll just say this. Apparently, I need practice.

  Stunned, Warren blinks at me for a moment while I totally blowfish all up in his mouth. Even I’m cringing as I stay there, frozen, my mouth half-open like a busted screen door slammed one too many times.

  Startled, I rip my mouth away from his, because holy mole on a fat roll, that was bad.

  Chapter 21

  Trix

  I gape at Warren, and I swear to sex, I can feel Sev laughing his ass off at me all the way back in Cupidville.

  I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand as humiliation pinches my cheeks like an overzealous grandma.

  “Oh shit,” I breathe. “I’m a bad kisser.”

  He tries to be sneaky about it, but he totally reaches up and wipes my saliva off his chin. I don’t even know how it got all the way down there. The startled look on his face is enough to let me know the truth.

  “I am a bad kisser!” I cry, my eyes welling up with tears.

  This. This is now the most embarrassing moment of my second life.

  “W-What? No,” he says, shaking his head as he tries to reach for me again.

  I smack his hands away. “You hesitated.”

  “I was...caught off guard.”

  I cover my face in my hands and groan. I’m a damn cupid. I’ve watched thousands of people kiss, yet my own lip-locking debut was about as slimy and uncomfortable as tentacle porn.

  I don’t know if I can come back from this.

  I feel his hands come up to wrap around my wrists, and then he’s gently pulling them down, forcing my face to come out of hiding. I know I’m blushing. I can feel so much heat in my cheeks that I’m surprised I haven’t caught on fire.

  And what do I see? A smirking Warren Knight.

  I narrow my eyes on him, blinking away the blur. “Don’t make fun of me! I just attacked your mouth like a damned goldfish trying to swim in it, and you just sat there, letting me take the fall!”

  His smirk widens until it’s a full-blown grin. Now he’s a grinning Warren Knight. It’s one of those incredibly rare sightings of comets or endangered animals mating in the wild. I can’t look away because I don’t know when it’ll come around again.

  And here’s the thing. Brooding, pissy, aloof Warren Knight is gorgeous. But a smiling Warren Knight? It’s life-changing. Iconic. I swear, the sun comes out from behind the clouds to fricken shine down on his glistening teeth.

  “You did sort of go full-goldfish mode,” he says, still grinning, the beautiful asshole.

  I nod pathetically. “I know! It was bad. I thought I was really going to nail that kiss, too.”

  “Dare I suggest we try again?”

  I frown at him. “Don’t tease me.”

  He chuckles. “I’m not teasing. You were just a little...overenthusiastic. I get that response a lot.”

  I smack him on the arm, but that just makes him laugh harder. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. I was going to add, Give Warren Knight an epic blow job to my to-do list, but I’m scratching that right off.”

  “Considering your oral skills, that might be for the best.”

  This fucker.

  When I try to smack him again, he catches my wrist this time and then hauls me off my seat and into his lap.

  My yelp freezes in my throat as I find myself straddling him, my once demure black dress now looking obscene where it’s bunched around my hips.

  “You’re so easy to rile up. I love it,” he says, echoing my earlier words as his hands grip my waist.

  “Ha ha,” I say dryly. “So clever.”

  “I like to think so,” he replies. “Now. What were we discussing? Oh yes,” he goes on, as his hands start to move up and down my sides, drawing symmetrical lines on either side of me. Just that simple, deliberate touch makes me wholly aware of him, and he takes me from my mortified state to the stirrings of heat again. “You’re leaving, and I don’t do commitment, so we’re going to enjoy each other for the time being.”

  “Even after the goldfish incident?” I ask dubiously. “Which, let’s be real, was half your fault,” I add.

  I’m rewarded with another grin. “Even so.”

  I pretend to mull it over, and then I let out a long-suffering sigh as I twine my hands behind his neck. “I guess. But you really need to get better at this whole kissing thing.”

  The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkles in amusement. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Good—Oof!”

  The car suddenly turns a corner, making me fall against him, my hips shifting so that I can now feel his very impressive arousal beneath me.

  “Sweet schlong, your dick is already fly
ing at full-mast?” I ask incredulously.

  He gives me a deadpan look as he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Let me just tell you all the ways you’ve been tormenting me, shall I?” he says. “The first time I met you, you were naked in my office, and then you grabbed my cock. You’ve slept in my bed. Twice. You were naked in my shower this morning. Then you’ve been sitting here next to me, eye-fucking me this whole ride, while wearing the black lacy panties I had delivered for you this morning. Now you’re straddling me, and your hips keep rocking back and forth over my dick. Of course I’m fucking hard.”

  The heat that was present in my cheeks seems to have hightailed it down to my nether regions and jacked up the thermostat, making itself right at home.

  “Oh.”

  Damn, he’s sexy. And he feels good under me. Getting sexed by Warren Knight just moved right up to the front of the line on my to-do list. Also, I’m completely elated with the news that I’m not wearing sloppy second clothing from one of his conquests. It makes me like him even more.

  “You just rocked over my cock again,” he says.

  “I don’t think I did,” I say breathlessly as I lean in closer, my fingers playing with the ends of his hair.

  I move my hips over his erection again, forcing a groan from his throat. “You definitely did.”

  “Hmm. I think it’s in your head.”

  “Yeah, the head of my cock. Because you’re definitely doing it.”

  “You’re mistaken.”

  Using my arms on his shoulders for leverage, I lift up slightly and then sit back down on him, grinding into him to get that wonderful friction my center seems to be craving.

  He groans louder this time, and then in a swift move, he grips the back of my head, taking complete control, while his fingers dig into my waist. “I shouldn’t be doing this with you, but I fucking want you too much to stop it,” he admits.

  “Don’t stop it. I want you too,” I breathe.

  His eyes flare at my admission. “Every time I think about the way you were under my desk, naked beneath my jacket, with your hands teasing over my cock...I get so fucking hard it hurts.”