Ride Wild (Raven Riders 3)

He held up his hands, his mind an absolute storm of confusion. “Hey. Cora. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

A tear spilled from one of her bright green eyes. Just a single, fat, slow-rolling tear. She fisted it away and unleashed a shaky breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—” She shook her head and hugged the pillow tight, like maybe it was the only thing holding her together.

“Why are you apologizing?” he asked, something uncomfortable stirring in his gut. Because this seemed out of proportion for having been scared awake. “You did nothing wrong.”

Still trembling, she gave an awkward little shrug as the fight drained out of her posture. “I . . . I don’t kn-know.” Her breathing hitched.

“Cora—”

Her bottom lip shook. Another fast head shake. “Please.”

Still standing across the room, he frowned. “Please what?”

She peered up at him with those green eyes so glassy with unshed tears, and it nearly broke his long-dead heart.

“Cora, what’s wrong?” Cautiously, he stepped around the opposite side of the coffee table and gestured. “Would it be okay if I sit?”

She managed an eye roll. “It’s your couch.”

He eased himself down like it was the sofa that was fragile, and then he looked at her again.

Little footsteps pattered down the hall. “Cora?” came Ben’s sleepy voice from just outside the room.

Fast swipes at her eyes. “Aw, hi, Bean. You can come in.”

“I heard a noise. Did you scream?” Feet scuffing the floor, Ben came in wearing a pair of Spider-Man pajamas, bear in his hand. “Oh, hi Dad.” He sat between them, then peered back and forth like he was at a tennis match. “What happened?”

Cora gave a watery smile, but as Slider watched, she was already buttoning herself back up. “Nothing. Just a bad dream.”

“Oh,” Ben said, holding out his stuffed animal. “You should take Blue Bear, then. He’ll make you feel better.”

Cora took the bear and hugged it to her chest. And then she leaned against the kid. “You’re the sweetest.”

He sighed. “I know.”

Slider watched the two of them together for a long moment, and damn if it didn’t unleash an unexpected warmth inside his chest. Odd for a man who’d felt cold to his very core for so long. “It’s still nighttime, Benji. Go get some more sleep,” Slider said. “It’s gonna take a lot of energy to eat all those pancakes in the morning.”

“Okay,” he said, his ready willingness proof that he was still tired. He gave them both hugs and kisses and then was gone again, leaving a stilted awkwardness in his wake.

“I’m sorry I freaked out,” Cora finally said, looking down at Blue Bear like it was suddenly fascinating.

Slider drew one leg up on the couch, turning toward her and coming a little closer. “Look at me,” he said, his gaze running over her pretty blond waves. Out of nowhere, the urge hit him—hit him hard—to slide his fingers into her hair, haul her close, maybe even into his lap, and . . . Jesus, the universe of things he wanted after that was suddenly, surprisingly, and dizzyingly infinite. But he held himself still, because where the hell had that come from? And because, just then, his needs weren’t what was important. Finally, Cora looked up. “You’d knocked the blanket off, and I was afraid you’d be cold, but I scared you awake. Nothing to apologize for, Cora. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“You believing me or just telling me what you think I want to hear?” He arched a brow.

She gave a little smirk that probably wasn’t supposed to come off as sexy but did. “Hello, Talkative Slider, nice to meet you.”

Now he was the one smirking. “Hello, Humor as a Diversionary Tactic Cora. Pleasure’s all mine.”

She sighed. “Well, damn. I believe you, okay?”

He gave a single nod. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“It was just a nightmare. I’m fine. Just feeling like a giant idiot,” she said, the self-deprecation another of the defense tactics he’d noted in all the time they’d spent together.

He wasn’t buying the nightmare line, not at all. And he wanted to push. Like, really fucking wanted to push. Because his gut demanded there was way more to it. But Slider didn’t know this woman that well, and their relationship had almost never veered into the personal. He’d been convinced he didn’t want it to, either.

But now, God help him, now he was thinking maybe he did want it to.

He wanted to know what Sam knew about her past. He wanted to return some of the amazing care this woman had shown his boys—and him—all these months. And if his protective hackles hadn’t been up over her living alone at the clubhouse, they were fucking up now over the gut-deep belief that there was a reason his waking her had scared her so bad.