“I don’t want your charity.”
“Then we won’t call it charity. Call it me making up for leaving you alone when you needed a friend.”
“Friend.” She hated the sound of that, but that’s all they could ever be. She’d been born to betray him after all.
Weston’s jaw clenched as he pressed his body gently against hers. His hands drifted from her cheeks to her neck, and a strange intensity sparked in his eyes. “I want to kiss you right now, but it doesn’t feel right.”
Avery froze. “Okay, I understand. Wait, no I don’t. Why doesn’t it feel right to kiss me?” Because she really wanted him to kiss her right now.
“Because you are dealing with a lot right now, finding out about the council and your car, and the—”
Avery pushed up on her tiptoes and kissed him. Way too hard. She basically bit him. Mortified, she lurched away, ducked her gaze, and apologized.
Weston rubbed his bottom lip like it hurt, but his mouth was stretching into a smile. He was laughing at her again, and she wanted to crawl into a hole and hide for the rest of her life.
But instead of making fun, he squared up to her, rested his hands on her waist, and dragged her body to his. And slowly, so slowly, he leaned down and pressed his lips onto hers. Fireworks were going off in her belly as she slid her arms around his neck and parted her lips for his searching tongue. He stayed gentle, drawing out the kiss as his mouth moved smoothly against hers in rhythmic strokes that turned the fireworks to an erupting volcano. This was it—the best kiss she’d ever had, and it was with the Novak Raven. It was with her Weston. Her inner raven was practically crowing with happiness inside of her.
The rain was falling harder, soaking her hair and clothes, but she didn’t care about that. She didn’t care about anything but how Weston was gripping the fabric of her dress as if he wanted more. And the way his lips were turning urgent against hers, the way his body felt, the way his erection pressed onto her belly, she’d done that—drawn this reaction from him. Her, the broken raven.
Weston thrust his tongue into her mouth one last time, then jerked away. “I’m sorry. This is… It’s just I saw your tits, and I really like your tits, and your other parts, too, but your tits are fuckin’ phenomenal. Just…” He held his cupped hands out over her chest. “Perfect.”
Clearly, Weston was a boob-man.
He cleared his throat and frowned. “And also you’re nice, sweet, and pretty.”
But boobs had topped his list. Despite the gravity of her dire situation, she laughed. It wasn’t a soft polite one either, but a surprised, from-the-core bellowing laugh that drew her up short. She covered her mouth with her hand to hide her giggles. She should not be laughing right now, not with all the bad shit she’d just found out about her life, but Weston was chuckling, too, and all that did was make her laugh harder.
Eyes dancing and dimple deep in his cheek, Weston took his camouflage baseball cap off and put it on backward. He twisted around and looked through the woods in the direction of the road. “I feel…” He inhaled deeply and sighed. “I feel too damn much right now, honestly, but I need to get you warm and dry and fed, okay?”
“Wes, I’m not your responsibility.”
“No, but it would make me feel…good…to take care of you.” His smile slipped into a frown. Looking confused as hell, he rested his hands on his hips. “Right. You don’t have a bra on, and I can see through your dress. Your nipples are perfect, and we should go.” In a rush he pulled off his long-sleeve flannel shirt and wadded it up into a ball, then handed it to her, his eyes averted.
Stunned, Avery took it gently from his offered hand and cradled it to her chest. It smelled like his cologne.
With a quick dick adjustment, he spun on his heel and strode off through the wilderness, leaving Avery to stare down in surprise at her chest. Sure enough, her nipples were drawn up against the soaking white fabric of her cotton dress.
She’d just found out her entire life was a complete lie, and in the same five minutes got the kiss she’d always dreamed about from the man who had stolen her heart all those years ago with nothing more than written words on a page. Maybe the council had something to do with her feelings, she didn’t know. But they didn’t have everything to do with them. This right here—this moment they’d shared together—was important.
Shaking her head at the strange turn her life had taken, Avery followed Weston’s receding figure through the woods and to her car.
She’d never seen Weston stammer or struggle for words, but he had just had the cutest man-freak-out she’d ever witnessed, and all caused by her.
She had no idea why, but she, Avery Foley—relative nobody, bait, and broken raven—had somehow managed to fluster Weston Novak.
Chapter Nine
By the time Avery reached the road, Weston had the hood of her car popped open and resting on the prop. He was talking low into his phone, shielding the little device from the rain by using the hood as an umbrella. His black T-shirt was plastered to him like a second skin, and his back muscles rippled as he poked and prodded around the innards of her car.
It was raining in earnest now. Avery didn’t normally like the feel of chilled skin and damp clothes, but standing here on the side of the road, watching Weston try to save her, was kind of beautiful.
Weston’s dark eyebrows were lowered in concentration, and his lips were so sensual as he spoke into the cell. His baseball cap was wet, there was a constant drip-drip of rainwater falling from the bill to trickle down his back, and his boots were covered in mud.