Novak Raven (Harper's Mountains #4)(23)

Avery Foley was big. She was crawl-in-his-heart-and-make-a-home-there-for-always big. That kiss out in the woods had done something to his chest—something terrifying and elating all at once. She’d warmed him. More than that, it was like he’d been struck by lightning the second she’d leaned in and kissed him hard. Her lips had set him on fire from his toes up.

And if he went at this full-speed-ahead like his raven wanted, it wouldn’t be like when they were kids. He was a man who had watched the Bloodrunners settle down with mates, one-by-one. And somewhere along the way, he’d begun to want that, too. He’d begun to crave something more than his solitary existence. His raven was ready for more.

And now, Avery had come in right when he was softening to the idea of taking a mate. Was this the Fates toying with him?

“You’re still a quiet man, like when you were a boy,” Avery said.

Weston cast her a quick glance as he turned onto the gravel road that led to Harper’s Mountains. “You only met me once, and that wasn’t the best impression to go by. How do you know I’m quiet?”

She was resting her cheek on the back of the seat, her full lips curved up just for him, her eyes so bright nestled in all those dark lashes. Like a psychopath, he wanted to trace her freckles with the tip of his finger.

“I could tell from the way you wrote. You didn’t give me extra words. Not ever. You only wrote the important stuff. I could always hear your voice when I read your letters.”

“You remembered my voice?”

Avery giggled a pretty sound, like a bell. He wanted to kiss her now, just to taste her happiness. “We weren’t great at talking on the phone.”

Weston chuckled and shook his head. “No, we weren’t. I still don’t like talking on the phone for long.”

“And I was awkward. I didn’t know how to talk to males. Letters were easiest.”

Weston ticked his tongue against his teeth and grimaced. “I don’t like when you call me a male. I’m not like your people.”

“What should I call you?”

“A friend.” He wanted more, but that would have to do for now. Avery was at the beginning of a long road to healing. The last thing she needed right now was a relationship. She needed to focus on herself first.

When he looked over at her again, the smile had faded from her lips. “I missed you,” she whispered, and her eyes were suddenly full of emotion. It was as if he could see her heart right there. Without thinking, Weston drew her hand to his lips and let his kiss linger on her knuckles. It felt so f*cking right to touch her like this. To comfort her like this.

She dragged the back of her index finger down his jaw and giggled softly.

“You want me to shave?” he asked. Her answer mattered. Did she like beards or not? He wanted to know everything about her.

“No. I like you all manly and gruff. Tattoos and pierced nipples and muscles. You turned out differently than I imagined. The whiskers suit you. And they tickled when…” Avery ducked her gaze to her lap. “You know.”

Weston bit his bottom lip to hide the smile there. She was so f*cking cute when she got random bouts of shyness. “When we kissed?”

“Yes, that,” she said breathily. “We kissed. In the woods. In the rain.”

“Technically, you kissed me.”

“But you kissed me back! I thought I made you bleed. I kissed you like a wolverine.”

Weston laughed. “You were very aggressive.” He shot her a smile and slowed down through the front gate to Harper’s Mountains. He pulled up the muddy, winding road and stopped in front of 1010, the old cabin he was convinced held magic. Avery could use some of that.

When he looked over at Avery again, her cheeks were bright red, and she wouldn’t give him more than her profile.

“I liked your kiss, Ave. I liked that you made the first move. I didn’t have to question what you wanted. I didn’t have to feel like I was pushing us too fast.”

Avery’s stomach growled. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“Don’t say that,” Weston murmured. He hated that she’d gone hungry. He hated that she’d been dealing with this all alone, sleeping in her car and worrying over where her next meal would come from. She was a lot stronger than she gave herself credit for. She’d said she was nothing, but she’d gotten herself a job and was digging out. She hadn’t even asked him for an advance on her paycheck. She was just one of those tough souls who wanted to face the storm alone. No more of that, though. Not when he could make sure she was safe and okay.

Weston moved to get out, but changed his mind. Fast, before he turned chicken-shit, he leaned back over the console and cupped the back of her neck, pulled her close. He kissed her and reveled in her taste, the softness of her lips. He basked in the quiet, helpless sound in her throat as she melted against him. Her clothes were still damp and she was shivering from cold, or adrenaline, or both maybe. As much as he wanted to, Weston couldn’t spend all night in the cab of his truck making out with her. His raven wouldn’t let him. His instincts were telling him to take care of her. Make her comfortable so she’d stay with them. So he could keep her.

Weston pecked her lips once, twice, and smiled when she sat there, lips pursed and her eyes still closed as though he’d kissed her into shock. He liked the way she smelled when he kissed her—like pheromones and happiness. He wanted to touch her. Wanted to run his hand down her neck to her tits and see if they were as soft and perfect as they’d looked out in the woods. He wanted to cup her sex and make her writhe against his hand. She was probably so wet right now. Would feel so good gripping his dick. Would feel so good pulsing around him as he made her come. Fuck, he wanted to bury himself inside her, but logic drifted through his muddled mind like a thin fog.