Can't Fix Cupid

by Raven Kennedy

  My pulse jumps. My breath stutters. Everything in me is like a live wire, ready to snap with a spark at just a single touch.

  “Kiss me the non-goldfish way,” I plead.

  His lips twitch in amusement. “Alright, just follow my lead.”

  Then his mouth is on mine, and my eyes are closing from the overwhelming sensations, and damn—he’s a good kisser.

  I feel him everywhere.

  Unlike before, there is no clumsy joining. There is no faltering or hesitation. Warren Knight owns me.

  Using his grip on my head, he angles me in that perfect way, just as his tongue plunges into my mouth. I gasp around the sudden invasion of him. He teases my tongue. Nips at my lips. Sucks me between his teeth. Moves my head this way and that. Helps to guide my hips as I shamelessly grind against him. Every single thing he does is deliberate, and I respond to him on instinct alone.

  Somehow, he got my embarrassed, ignorant self to kiss him back like a boss.

  I clutch him by the neck, pull at his black hair, rock back and forth over his cock, all while he devours my mouth and makes me feel things that I never knew were possible.

  My entire front is practically glued to him, but I want more. So much more that it hurts. It’s all I can do to hold on and pant between kisses as he tongue fucks me for all I’m worth.

  And then suddenly, he’s pulling back, and our kiss ends, and he chuckles at me when I try to recapture his lips.

  “We need to stop, Trix,” he says, his voice low and husky, nearly pained.

  That sounds like a stupid idea. “Why?” I whine.

  Yeah. I guess I get whiny when I’m horny.

  “Because all I want to do is fuck you in this car right now, but we’re in front of my building, and you deserve better than that.”

  Aww. After that statement, I can’t even be whiny horny anymore. “Fine,” I sigh.

  Okay. I’m a little whiny still.

  He helps me off his lap, and I readjust my dress and panties while he adjusts the front of his pants. I look at his straining cock with glee.

  “Stop looking so proud of yourself,” he reprimands.

  “What? He likes me. It’s a total compliment because that dick is picky.”

  He rolls his eyes. “How do you know?”

  “Oh, you know. Tabloids. Stories. General knowledge. Plus, I basically stalked you for the past two months,” I add with a mischievous smile.

  He scoffs and tightens his tie. When his hand lands on the door handle, I stop him. “Wait, you can’t just walk out there without first commending me on how good of a kisser I just was. Like...did you see that? I did awesome that time.”

  That earns me another megawatt smile. “Apologies,” he says, leaning towards me and placing a chaste kiss on my lips. “Consider yourself commended.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now we really need to go inside, or Tonya is going to squeeze me by the balls for bringing you in late.”

  I make a face. “That sounds painful.”

  “It is,” he agrees, but then he looks at me one more time and curses before leaning forward and kissing the daylights out of me again. “Stop looking so fucking cute,” he says after pulling back again.

  “I can’t help it,” I say, forcing my eyes to peel open after his sexy onslaught.

  He gets me so fuzzy-headed and hot. With every swipe of his tongue, I can feel how much he wants me, and that alone is heady and addicting.

  I run a finger over my swollen bottom lip and attempt to finger-comb through my mussed hair, but let’s face it, I probably look like I’ve been making out in a car.

  Warren legitimately groans as he forces his hands off me and reaches for the door handle again.

  “How about just one more kiss?” I ask, trying my luck.

  He pushes open the door while swearing under his breath again, and offers his hand to help me out. With a disappointed sigh, I slip out of the car and onto the sidewalk.

  I look him up and down appreciatively in the sunlight, but when I make it to his face, I see he’s already glaring at me. “Stop giving me fuck-me eyes right now, or I’m going to end up dragging you into a supply closet.”

  I throw my hands up and then let them drop again. “My eyes can say whatever they want, and supply closets aren’t that bad.”

  He shakes his head at me and starts leading me towards the front of his building. “You’re going to ruin me.”

  I smile. “But it’s going to be worth it.”

  Chapter 22

  Warren

  This isn’t going to end well.

  But fuck, I can’t seem to stop myself from starting this anyway.

  When I saw her last night talking to that douche at the bar, I tried to tell myself that it was for the best.

  We don’t fit together. We have nothing in common. She’s all color, and I’m black and white. She’s a smile to my scowl and optimistic to my usual pessimism. She’s full, while I’m empty.

  I can’t do commitments. I can’t do something real. And I came to terms with that fact. But ever since I found her bare ass in my office, she’s tilted my world on its axis, and I find myself wanting again. Wanting her.

  Despite my best efforts to feel indifference towards her, I can’t. I’m inexplicably drawn to her, the way wind is pushed with the clouds, and the way the moon touches the night. She’s like my very own sweet regret wrapped up in a bubblegum pink package of lighthearted life.

  Which is why, right now, instead of working from my phone as I wait for Tonya to do her thing, I can’t take my eyes off her.

  I kissed her.

  With her body poised on top of mine, her breasts shoved against my chest, and her heat pressing against my cock, I kissed her like I’ve never kissed anyone before in my whole fucking life.

  I meant what I said to her. If we hadn’t stopped, I would’ve taken her right then and there. But she deserved better than the back seat of my car, while my driver no doubt sat in the front, playing one of his games on his phone. She deserved more than tinted windows separating us from a crowd of people walking by outside. Deserved more than the sounds of traffic as our backdrop.

  So, as hard as it was to pull away from her delicious mouth and drop my hands off her curves, it was the right move.

  But try telling that to my dick, which hasn’t gone down since I had her straddled on my lap.

  It doesn’t help things that she looks like a damn angelic wet dream right now.

  As soon as I escorted Trix inside, Tonya’s team swept her away for hair and makeup and clothing.

  She’s now wearing a skintight white dress and a pair of pale pink wings that match her hair. White heels accentuate her long, tan legs, and the dress is doing some major favors for me, showing off the perfect amount of cleavage beneath her sweetheart neckline.

  Her makeup is dewy, her hair is in relaxed, voluminous curls, and every time she looks over at me and bites her lip, I have to shift in my seat like I’m a damn preteen catching accidental nipslips at the pool.

  Tonya had white and red backdrops installed in the basement of my building—which is just a nickname for the empty bottom floor that she uses for photo shoots whenever we need to do some promo or marketing campaigns. Expensive lighting shines on the space, each one being manned by several different people. One person is even the designated fan blower.

  There are several male and female models around, all of them dressed in date attire, waiting for their turn as they hang around by the food table.

  Blue is also dressed up, sporting a vastly different outfit than her overalls that she wore during our real date. She’s now dressed in a breezy summer dress and has her dreadlocks pulled over one shoulder and secured with a band.

  It’s a madhouse down here. Tonya barks orders left and right, the photographer moves people constantly, while everything from lighting, wind, props, and models, are directed to play like instruments in an orchestra.

  Yet despite the dozens of people, the noise,
and the hectic distractions—despite the fact that I have pressing work I should be doing—all of my attention is on her.

  I promised myself no commitments, and I never had a problem with that before. But now, I find myself wishing I could break that promise. My saving grace is the fact that Trix is leaving. I try to tell myself that I’m not being a selfish ass by taking advantage of that. If she’s leaving anyway, then there’s no harm in enjoying each other while she’s here.

  Tonya is hollering out orders to the photographer, who in turn hollers out orders to the models, Trix included. Personally, I thought the wings were a bit over the top. But Tonya insisted Trix wear them.

  The dating app is ready to launch, and I can’t help but agree that Trix is the perfect face to represent CupidShuffle. After just a few minutes of entering in your info and uploading a photo to the app, you’ll be matched by our resident cupid. Don’t like the match? Just press shuffle, and a new date is selected. The platform is crisp, the interface is modern, it’s easy to use, and based on our beta users, Tonya thinks our launch will be successful.

  Trix’s voice suddenly cuts through my thoughts. “I’m just saying,” she goes on, talking to one of the hair stylists as she fixes her hair, “cupid wings should be red. Not pink.”

  The hair stylist just nods before spraying her with what looks like an entire can of aerosol. Trix wrinkles her nose, looking goddamn adorable as she waves a hand in front of her face. “Yuck. That stuff tastes awful.”

  I have to bite the inside of my cheek, since smiling openly at her would probably freak out most of the people in here. I’m not a big grinner, but I find my lips constantly tugging up every time I’m around Trix.

  I’ve known her for such a short amount of time, but it seems longer—which is a fucking cliche thing to think, but it’s true.

  The photoshoot has taken hours, though I got my bit done during hour one. Trix has the difficult part, forced to endure thousands of photographs, while Tonya puts her in every pose imaginable.

  Harvey left with Blue a long time ago, eyeing me curiously as to why I was still sitting here like a schmuck. I know I’ll catch shit for it later, but I don’t care. Now that I gave myself the go-ahead to enjoy her, that’s exactly what I intend to do.

  When we finally get the all-clear that the photographer has what he needs, Trix practically tosses off the wings and sprints in my direction. “Quick,” she says, glancing over her shoulder like she’s trying to be stealthy. “Sneak me out of here before Tonya changes her mind.”

  I chuckle and rise from the chair, placing my hand on her back so I can lead her out of the room.

  “I’m so hungry I could eat a whole Moroccan stew right now,” Trix tells me.

  I grimace a bit at the memory of said stew projectiling all over my shoes. “Please don’t.”

  She tips her head back and laughs as we go into the elevator. No one follows us in, so we have the small space all to ourselves. It’s the first time since the car ride that I’ve had her alone, and I’m itching to touch her.

  Without warning, I reach out and press the button to stop our ascent, and her brown eyes widen. “What...what are you doing?”

  Instead of answering, I crowd her into the corner of the elevator, placing my hands on either side of her to grip the railings and box her in.

  “You look beautiful,” I murmur as I run my nose up the column of her neck. She smells like spun sugar. “Sexy,” I add, letting my tongue dart out to stroke the sensitive part of her skin. “Completely fuckable.”

  She blushes prettily, the pink tinge to her cheeks matching her hair.

  “Really?” she asks nervously as she pats her curled hair and smooths down her white dress. “I wasn’t sure if I looked too over the top.”

  “In this dress? No. You look fucking delectable. There’s never been a better cupid than you.”

  “That’s debatable,” she mumbles under her breath.

  I lean in and nip her bottom lip, causing her to gasp, and she fists her hands in my shirt.

  “You look good enough to eat, Miss Valentine. And I intend to devour you.”

  She bites her lip, her eyes darkening with desire. Her perky tits are right there, her nipples pebbling for me through the fabric of her clothes, just begging to be touched. Licked. Bitten.

  I can’t hold back, and by the look in her eye, neither can she. I want her.

  But before I can fall into my baser desires, the loudest fucking stomach growl known to man erupts from her small body.

  We both freeze, me with my mouth an inch from hers, my hand poised to dip beneath the top of her dress, and her with her left leg hiked up over my hip, her eyes wide.

  Just like that, my overwhelming lust turns to amusement, and I rest my forehead against hers as a chuckle comes out of me, mixed in with a groan of longing.

  “We better feed you before your stomach starts picketing in protest.”

  A shaky breath leaves her moistened lips. “Yeah. Food. Hungry.”

  I smile at her stunted speech and release the stop button on the elevator. When it reaches the lobby, I find myself placing my hand on the small of her back again as I lead her out. I keep finding excuses to touch her, and by the look on some of my employees faces, they’ve noticed.

  I’ve already texted my driver, so the car is waiting at the curb outside the building for us when we step through the doors. But instead of heading towards the car, Trix turns to me suddenly, stopping on the sidewalk.

  Her demeanor has altered drastically. She’s wringing her hands in front of her, biting her bottom lip, her brow puckered in the most adorable way. She looks so fucking cute that I want to haul her back into the elevator, pin her up against the wall, and kiss the breath out of her, stomach growling be damned.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  Her big brown eyes lock onto my face. “Okay, I’m just going to say it,” she begins, blowing out a breath. “I really like you, okay? You’re the first person I’ve ever liked, so I’m new at this. But I meant what I said, Warren. I really am leaving.”

  “You said as much in the car.”

  “Right. I just want to make sure you understand.”

  “I don’t do commitments, Trix. That’s why this works,” I reply smoothly, sounding way more nonchalant than I actually feel.

  She nods slowly, letting out a breath. “Okay. Good. So we do this thing, fast and fun and heated. But with the knowledge that in a few weeks, it’s going to be over for good, because I won’t be coming back. Deal?”

  I don’t know why my gut twists at her words. On paper, it’s exactly what I need. In reality, I have a feeling it’s not going to be enough, and it’s going to fuck up things exponentially.

  I find myself nodding anyway. “Deal.”

  Emotion flits over her face. Relief, desire, excitement, and maybe a little bit of sadness too. But then she smiles, letting the better parts of her emotions take over. “Okay then, Warren Knight. Let’s do this thing.”

  Without warning, she pulls away and starts walking down the sidewalk, in the opposite direction of my car.

  “Where are you going? The car is right here.”

  She turns around but doesn’t stop walking to reply. “Come on, Mr. Knight,” she says with a smirk. “I’m not a lie-down-at-your-feet kind of bunny,” she says, confusing the fuck out of me. “I’m the kind that’s going to make you run. So that means no stuffy five-star restaurants. I’m going to keep you on your toes with spontaneity.”

  “I don’t do spontaneous,” I point out as I catch up with her. “And I thought you were hungry.”

  “We’ll find food on the way.”

  At my scowl, she laughs, even as she threads her fingers through mine. I can’t remember the last time I held hands with a girl. It always seemed like a juvenile gesture. But right now, holding Trix like this, it makes me feel buoyant.

  “Don’t be such a grouchy pants. It’s gonna be fun,” she says, tossing me a wink.

  “I don’t
do fun either.”

  “You do now,” she says, tugging me down the sidewalk.

  I look back at my driver and signal him that we won’t be needing the car after all.

  “We’re going to make the most of our time together, Warren,” she tells me with joyful confidence.

  And you know what? I believe her.

  That’s what scares me most of all.

  Chapter 23

  Trix

  “I’m probably about to win a million dollars.”

  I look over at Warren from my spot on the stool, and he’s surrounded by a smoky haze that seems to be everywhere in this casino. After dragging him all over, I saw a billboard earlier about striking it rich, and since I need money, it seemed like a sign from Destiny.

  “You’re actually down five hundred, and it’s only been five minutes,” Warren points out.

  I sigh at his negativity. “You have to spend money to make money, War and Peace,” I tell him pointedly. “And anyway, I’m also winning at life, because I just got to cross off play a video game from my list.”

  Warren looks at me from where he’s leaning against the slot machine. He’s a real good leaner. All strong biceps and pecs pulling against his shirt, and he’s even doing the ol’ one ankle crossed over the other move. He looks hot.

  But what’s really hot? The way he looks at me.

  I can’t believe that after all this time of watching him, I’m on the receiving end of that delicious intensity I knew he’d be good at. Warren Knight wants me. And that fact is heady, and flattering, and so damn intoxicating.

  “I’m not sure that playing the slots counts as a video game,” he says dryly.

  I point at a digital screen that has a scantily dressed woman walking back and forth and holding a 777 sign. “What do you call that, mister hotshot CEO?” I ask him. “That’s a video. And this is totally a game.” I punctuate my fact by yanking down the lever once again and watching the numbers spin.

  I’m so excited that I’m practically bouncing in my seat. Warren seems to appreciate the movement that it creates with my boobs, because his eyes are locked on them. Then the slot machine stops spinning and…