Cora reached up and kissed him. "I'm sure about this, okay?"
"I'm not," he said. "Fuck, I don't want to hurt you or scare you or-"
"Don't you see though? You never could. I need you, Slider. Make this new memory with me. Make it good." She turned onto her stomach and lay flat.
He shifted above her, his thighs going to the outside of hers, and stroked his hand down her spine from neck to ass. "So fucking beautiful, Cora. Do you hear me?"
"Yes," she whispered.
He guided himself between her thighs, and his cock found her center and sank deep. She moaned at the tightness and the goodness of the sensation, his slow thrusts dragging his head against that delicious place inside her.
But as good as it was, it wasn't enough. "Please," she said. "I need you."
He came down on her then. Not all at once. His legs around her legs, his stomach against her lower back, his arms curled around hers. "It's me, Cora. Loving you. So damn much," he said, and then he lowered his chest against her shoulders, his whole weight pinning her down.
She couldn't deny the jolt of adrenaline, the tendrils of fear, the fingers of the past reaching out for her. And he must've sensed it, because he guided her face to the side so that they were looking eye to eye.
And, Jesus, that look chased the past away, leaving only them-and the fact that Slider had used the word love.
"Say it again," she said.
"It's me." His eyes flared with understanding. "It's me, loving you. And, Jesus, Cora. I do. I love you so fucking much."
"I love you, too," she said, emotion knotting in her throat so tightly that it brought tears to her eyes. "I love you, Slider."
Their fingers laced, their faces almost touching, Slider fucked her then. Soft and slow at first, harder and faster when neither of them could resist.
"I'm gonna come, Cora," he rasped, his cock driving deep. "Fuck, I'm gonna come."
"Yes, let yourself go," she said, already flying from the triumph of being able to take him this way, of putting the memory of his love in the place of one of her pain. It was the greatest gift anyone had ever given her.
He shouted out his release, his hips plowing into hers on punctuated thrusts that forced her to brace her hands against the headboard. His cock kicked inside her again and again, and his body shuddered above her.
Slider was off her in an instant. But just as she was about to protest, he pulled off the condom and threw it aside, and then he lay down, grasped her by the hips, and pulled her over his mouth. "Ride my face, Cora. Get off on me while I watch."
"Holy shit," she said, the words alone spiraling the arousal she already felt. And then she centered herself over his mouth and he banded his arms around her thighs, forcing her down.
With one hand on her breast and the other on the headboard, she rocked her core against his mouth. His stubble tormented her. His tongue lashed and licked and penetrated her. His teeth nipped her. Looking down, she found those pale green eyes blazing up at her. He growled against her, a wordless, masculine command. Cora thrust her hips and rolled her nipple and finally, finally lost her mind in a release that was so intense she had to slap her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.
Gently, Slider shifted her off him and sat up, and then he pulled her into his lap. He stroked the hair back off her face and searched her eyes for a long moment. "You okay, sweetheart?"
"The man I love just told me he loves me, too. I've never been more okay than I am at this very moment."
His smile was soft. "I do. I thought it was impossible for me to feel this way, but I do, Cora. I love you, and I would do anything for you."
She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Just be with me. That's all I want."
"Consider it done for, oh, I don't know, the next forty years."
Cora's heart was suddenly a runaway train in her chest. Because Slider Evans was talking about forever. Forever with her. "You know you'll be seventy-five but I'll only be sixty-three then." He chuckled and kissed her, and she moaned at the decadence of tasting herself on his skin. "Your mouth is a deadly weapon," she whispered.
He quirked a grin. "I'm happy to torment you with it any time you like."
"I'll keep that in mind," she said, grinning right back.
"I'm just happy, Cora. For the first time in years, I'm truly happy. And I owe it all to you." His big hand stroked her face, her hair, her shoulder. She felt like she must be glowing with the way his words warmed her up inside, that warmth touching places inside her she'd thought might always be cold and lonely.
"You're the first person who ever truly wanted me, Slider. So don't think I don't feel the same exact way."
He ducked his chin, a little smile on his face.
"What?" she asked.
"Will you . . . will you be my person, Cora?" he asked, somehow making her fall in love with him even more. Because she didn't have to ask what he meant.
When no one had ever wanted you before, ever claimed you, ever valued you, all you craved was that one person who would. Who would give you a place to belong, who would love you no matter what, who would be your safe place to land.
"I already am your person, Slider. And you're mine."
For the first time in her life, Cora finally had a family, love, her person. And nothing could ever take the specialness of that away.
Chapter 21
Slider had taken off work so that he could keep an eye on things until the night of the fight, so he drove Cora to her shift at the animal shelter and was just pulling away when the text came in from Dare.
PI identified who did the dumping. Meet at the clubhouse in 30 and be ready to ride.
Fucking finally.
He beelined it back to the house and traded out his truck for the Cross Bones, making it to the clubhouse with five minutes to spare. Dare, Maverick, Phoenix, and Caine were already there, sitting on their bikes and ready to go.
"What's the word?" Slider asked as he braced his heels against the pavement.
Straddling his matte black Dyna Street Bob, Dare gave him a nod. "Here's what the PI learned. Our guys are three twenty-something punks with a long list of priors, mostly misdemeanor bullshit, but some drug charges, too. And get this-they're fucking skateboarders."
Caine squinted. "What does that even mean?"
Dare chuffed out a humorless laugh. "It means that's pretty much what they do with their lives. Go around taking dares and doing tricks and skateboarding on and off of shit that wasn't made for skateboarding."
"So, what, on the side, they take on low-level criminal jobs to pay for this lifestyle?" Phoenix asked.
"That and shoplifting, apparently," Dare said. "Fucking skateboarders."
"Jesus, I think I've seen these guys around town," Slider said. "Skating off of railings in front of businesses and over at the park, too."
Dare nodded. "Well, they apparently built some sort of course, and our guy says they're there today."
Maverick's face was set in a deep scowl. "How'd he finally find these assholes?"
Putting on his sunglasses, Dare said, "He was tailing Davis and saw him meet with them. Looked confrontational, so the PI talked to them and threw fifty bucks their way. They folded like a house of cards in a strong windstorm."
"Sonofabitch," Slider said, stunned that they kept finding Davis everywhere they looked. Which made him having hassled Cora that much less acceptable. "All the pieces are just lining up."
"Yeah, they fucking are," Mav said. "And I'm going to bury Davis with them if it's the last thing I do."
Twenty minutes later, they rolled up to a fenced-in concrete course filled with hills, dips, curves, rails, and obstacles. About a dozen guys skated around, music blaring over a loudspeaker.
They dismounted, and Dare said, "We're looking for Bam, Bucky, and Mikey Mo." He gave them a droll stare.
"Seriously?" Phoenix said with a groan, and Slider got it. Because these were the lowlifes who'd landed Jagger in jail? "Mikey fucking Mo?"
Inside, Dare asked the first guy they came to and he pointed to the far side of the course. They found who they were looking for without any trouble.
The first of their targets who noticed them scrambled off his board and reared back, his red-rimmed eyes going wide. "Oh, shit," he said, pushing blond dreadlocks out of his eyes. He wore a pair of knee-length shorts hanging low on his hips, a pair of sandals, and nothing else.