Arrow to the Heart: A Dark Cupid Romance

Chapter 22

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Somewhere in Hell, there's a spot reserved with my name on it.

Man... the look on Bree's face when I told her I was going to bed. I know she took it personally.

I reacted poorly; I just wasn't ready for it. Most people wouldn't consider it a bad thing, but her calling me a romantic got under my skin.

My mom always called herself a 'romantic'. It's a pretty word used to glamorize a really fucked up thing. Romantics are weak addicts who'd chase love straight off a cliff and they don't give two fucks about who they hurt along the way.

I'm nothing like my mother—desperate for attention, blinded by the need to be loved. Fuck that.

But I know I shouldn't have reacted so strongly. Bree was just joking with me. I knew she didn't mean it.

And now she's sleeping alone in my guest room probably thinking she did something wrong.

Fuck.

A quick glance at the clock tells me it's just after midnight. She's probably asleep by now anyway.

I stare up at the ceiling for a moment, willing myself to sleep.

"Errgghh," I groan, kicking the covers off and getting out of bed with a huff.

The lights are off in the living room and everything is quiet, but there's a soft blue glow coming from underneath her door.

I knock softly at the door.

"Bree? You up?" I ask.

For a moment, I think she's going to pretend she's asleep; but I hear some shuffling, then her soft voice.

"Uh... yeah, come in."

When I open the door, the room is mostly dark. Bree is leaning back against the headboard holding her phone, her face lit only by the screen.

"Why you still up?" I ask.

"Couldn't sleep." She chews her bottom lip slightly. "I guess I'm still a bit freaked out about my apartment."

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

Her eyes widen and I can sense the relief pouring from her. For a second, I think she's going to fight me on it, but instead she nods and scoots over in the bed.

Good. I wasn't about to leave anyway.

I slide under the covers as she sets her phone down on the side table. Without thinking, I find myself wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her against me so her back is flush with my front.

No fucking clue why I did that. There's not a chance in hell I can sleep with my dick nestled in Bree's ass.

She smells like citrus and vanilla, and it's so tempting to lick her skin to see if she tastes as good as she smells.

Jesus fucking Christ, Dec, get a hold of yourself.

"I'm sorry if I upset you earlier," she says softly.

Ah fuck. I knew she was worrying about that.

"You didn't do anything wrong. I just... have some hangups about the word romantic. It's complicated."

"Oh. Okay." Her voice is sweet and understanding, probably more so than I deserve. But she doesn't ask follow-up questions or chastise me, she just rests her hand atop mine.