A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1) (20 page)

He leaned over her, his arms above her head, gripping the bark with his fingers, while the apples of his cheeks turned a ferocious red. Kat’s anger turned quickly to concern when she watched him peering cautiously around the tree, mumbling and cursing.

“Carter, what’s wrong?” His eyes darted from left to right while he tried to hide her with his body. He shook his head. “Carter, talk to me,” she urged, placing a palm on his shoulder. “Who is it?”

“My cousin,” Carter answered in a quiet voice that belied his huge frame.

Kat jumped when his palms slammed against the bark above her head. “Goddammit.” He blew out his cheeks and leaned harder against the tree, trapping Kat with his arms.

“Calm down.” She rubbed her palm a little from side to side before moving it down until she could feel the hard edge of his left pectoral against the side of her thumb. He was so strong.

“I wanna see him on my time, ya know? On my terms.” Carter’s eyes pleaded with her to understand.

“It’s all right,” Kat soothed with a soft voice, keeping the motion of her hand. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Gradually, his body started to relax under her stroking palm. He continued to look at her in a way that made her skin prickle. As yearning washed over her, Kat was suddenly aware of how close they were standing. Their chests touched when each of them breathed, and his nose hovered by her hairline.

“You smell good,” he whispered. “Do you know that?”

Kat swallowed. Her hand stilled on his chest.

“You do,” he said, dropping his shoulders farther, bringing his face closer to hers. “You smell really fucking good.”

“Thank you,” she replied, shifting her back against the bark of the tree.

Her body was burning up, even with the breeze around them. He was so close. She knew she should push him away, but every time the thought entered her mind, she wanted to do the complete opposite. She wanted him closer.

“What are you thinking?” Carter’s hands slid down the tree until they were resting above her shoulders.

The blue of his irises reminded Kat of the Caribbean Sea, and the pucker of his top lip ached to be licked. She noticed a small scar on his chin, and her fingertips itched to touch it.

“I’m— I’m thinking that we need to, we need to get— I need to go home,” she stuttered and his nose grazed her left temple.

“Do you want to go home, Peaches?”

“I should,” she replied. “I need to.”

Carter moved his head back, his eyes hooded and sexy. “Can I tell you something?”

Kat could do nothing but nod. Carter’s stare prowled down her face, coming to a dead stop at her mouth.

“I really, really, really want to kiss you right now.”

“Cart—”

“I know I shouldn’t, and I don’t usually kiss, but, fuck, I want to.” He trailed his thumb across her mouth. “I want to find out what your top lip tastes like.” He licked his own. “And then compare it to the bottom.” He exhaled. “I’m desperate to know if your tongue tastes of peaches.”

Kat’s eyes fluttered closed at his words. “We— I … please,” she murmured. “Don’t.” The word fell from her but it made her stomach clench all the same. She was amazed she had the energy to utter the one syllable at all.

“Would it be so bad?” He moved, his breath washing over Kat’s face like a lusty fog. “God, you’re so pretty.”

Everything in Kat’s body was surging toward the man in front of her. Her core purred, her pupils dilated, and her heart beat wildly. She knew they were about to cross a line—a huge dangerous line that had her career written all over it.

“Carter,” she whispered again, in one final attempt to stop what she knew in her heart was inevitable. “We can’t do this.”

“I know,” he answered, cupping the side of her face. He tilted his head, his mouth a luscious whisper across the edge of hers. “Just one taste. Just one. That’s all I want.”

And then his lips pressed against hers.

Oh God.

She was kissing her student.

Her beautiful, lost, broken, angry student who’d tickled her and bought her a popsicle. Who’d told her he thought she was pretty and given her a precious gift for her birthday. A man who was so full of contradiction it made her head spin.

She knew it was stupid. She’d promised she wouldn’t be stupid and there she was. There she was with … oh shit, his tongue in her mouth. His taste. His dark, rich taste with a hint of smoke. It was sublime. It was as though she’d been searching for it her entire life. He made her feel light and heavy, excited and terrified, all at the same time.

Despite her thighs clenching together with desire, her lust couldn’t erase the panic rising up the back of her throat.

She placed her hand on his shoulder and pushed. “Please,” she muttered against his lips.

“Peaches,” he moaned, taking her hand and words in the wrong way. He kissed her harder, plunging his tongue farther into her mouth and pressing his hips firmer against her stomach.

Kat shook her head, making their lips slide against one another. “Please stop.”

But the words didn’t reach Carter’s ears. She knew. He was too far gone.

“Please, I can’t,” Kat said again, pushing a little harder. “Stop, Carter.”

Her words finally met his ears. “What?” he asked through his daze, his lips barely stopping.

“Stop.” She pushed again and he moved back, but not far enough. “I said stop!”

She pushed with all her strength and, this time, he stumbled back.

* * *

Carter stared at her in utter confusion, taking in her perfectly plump red lips, before she covered them with her hand. Gathering his wits, he realized with a terrifying jolt that she was crying. Carter’s heart dropped to the soles of his shoes.

“Peaches,” he murmured. He took a step toward her but stopped when she held up her hand. “I— What the …? Shit, did I hurt you?”

She shook her head. “No. You didn’t hurt me.”

“Then what?” He risked taking another step and breathed easier when she didn’t stop him. The urge to be near her, now that he’d tasted her, was so fucking strong.

“We just … I can’t believe—” She looked up. “Do you realize what could happen if people knew what we just did?”

Yeah, he did know, but right then he couldn’t have given a shit. “Peaches,” he said, holding out a hand, which she didn’t take. “It’s okay.”

Her head snapped up. “Okay?” she exclaimed. “There is
nothing
okay about this, Carter. I’m your teacher!”

“Don’t yell at me,” he fumed, his temper rippling. “I know exactly what you are. I also know that you liked it just as much as I did.”

“Regardless,” she snapped, “it can’t happen again. It
won’t
happen again.”

Searing pain sliced across Carter’s chest, and he covered it with anger. “What-the-fuck-ever. Like I give a shit if it happens again.”

Her eyes met his and he immediately saw the hurt. He swallowed down his pride. “Peaches, I— Shit— I …” He hesitated, feeling that, somehow, “sorry” wasn’t nearly enough to fix the moment.

“I’m going home,” she muttered.

Carter noticed how tired and small she looked. He was almost desperate with need to take care of her and make it better.

She started to turn from him, and he took another step toward her. “Peach—”

“Don’t,” she begged, closing her eyes. “Just … don’t.” Her shoulders fell. “Carter, I’m sorry that I—I didn’t mean to lead you on. The kiss was— I need to go home.” Her eyes opened slowly. “I’ll see you on Tuesday.” She kept her eyes on his for a beat before she turned away.

Carter stood silently and watched her walk away, certain that she was taking half of him with her.

Carter’s entire apartment shook as he slammed the door shut behind him. He launched his keys and jacket against the wall, threw his helmet on the sofa, and collapsed against the breakfast bar of his loft. He’d been struggling to breathe properly since Peaches had walked away from him.

She’d walked away.

Christ, that had hurt.

When Carter had put his mouth to Peaches’, he’d lost himself. She felt so good pressed against him and yet, he could do nothing but handle her as though she would fracture under his fingertips. He’d never kissed a woman that way before. He’d surprised himself at his own tenderness. The hunger for her that resided deep within him was desperate to take her wild and hard against the tree, but the moment they touched he knew there was no way he could do that to her. He beat the hunger back and held her as gently as he could.

Their lips had moved together so slowly and tentatively. But Carter had wanted more.

With her pulse thrumming under his fingertips, he’d kissed her with everything he had. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted to feel more of her. He wanted her to touch him.

He’d fucked up. He shouldn’t have kissed her. Peaches had even told him not to. But he’d done it regardless. He just didn’t have the fight left in him anymore.

He knew, now that he had experienced the feel of Peaches on his lips, he had to have it again. And he knew that was an impossibility, just as she had told him. Nevertheless, Carter couldn’t help but suspect her determined promise that it wouldn’t or couldn’t happen again was a carefully constructed front that hid her own desires for him. She’d kissed him back, for fuck’s sake. She wanted it, too. Didn’t she?

He rubbed his brow at the realization that the situation just wasn’t on their side.

Carter wasn’t stupid; he understood she had a lot more to lose than he did and that, should their kiss be found out, she could be in a whole heap of shit. But he didn’t have to like it. His temper and selfish side started to escalate.

He thought back to what he’d said to her.
What-the-fuck-ever. Like I give a shit if it happens again.

He was a lying son of a bitch.

The fact was her words had hurt. He’d been hurt before, by many people in his life, but Peaches seemed to know how to cut him to the quick. He wasn’t so much of a dick that he couldn’t admit it. She’d hurt him and he was pissed.

He glanced at the clock, a bitch of a headache starting in his temples. It was just before five, and he needed something to help him chill out and cut loose. He needed to stop thinking about Miss Lane, with her soft lips and peach-flavored tongue.

He pulled out his cell and found his contacts list. The line rang three times.

“Yo, Carter! How was your date—I mean, session?”

“Eat a dick, Max,” Carter snarled, striding toward his bedroom.

“Whoa, such hostility! It didn’t go well, I take it?”

Carter pulled his T-shirt over his head and dropped down onto the corner of his bed. “No. It didn’t,” he snapped. “Look, what have you got planned for tonight?”

“Not much. Why, you thinkin’ of something?”

Carter ran a hand down his face. “I need to get shitfaced, and quick. Where can we go?”

Max laughed. “I know just the place, my man. Come to the body shop in an hour.”

“I’ll be there in thirty.”

* * *

“Keep moving!” the stranger hissed from under his hood. “We have to
get away from them. They’ll kill you! Move!”

“I can’t! My dad!”

The stranger didn’t stop to listen. Gunfire filled the air. Kat screamed. She began running but was wrestled to the ground. He was heavy on top of her back and smelled of cigarettes.

The sidewalk was so cold.

“Stay here,” he breathed into her hair as she wriggled beneath him. “You can’t go back. He told you to run, for Christ’s sake.”

Kat shot up from her bed, gasping and hoarse from the scream that died slowly in her throat. Her face was wet, as were her clothes, from the sweat pouring from her.

She leaned against the headboard, taking in a huge lungful of air when she remembered she was in her bed. It had been a while since she’d had such a dream, yet the effects of it were just the same. With a groggy head, she lifted herself from her bed and made her way to the bathroom, knowing a bath would relax the muscles in her neck and back that were still tense.

After her long soak, and a good hour of tears, she pulled on a pair of sweats and a hoodie and put on the DVD of
School of Rock
for some light Jack Black entertainment. A knock at the door had her glancing at the clock, wondering who would turn up at her door past eight on a Saturday night.

Her heart thumped hard when she peered through the peephole. She unlocked the dead bolt and pulled the door open, leaning on it with her hip. She stayed silent for a moment, not knowing what to say.

“Can I come in?” Beth asked in a quiet but firm voice.

“Sure,” Kat answered, standing back to allow her to enter.

Beth stepped in and stood awkwardly while Kat shut the door behind her.

“Can I get you a drink?” Kat tucked her air-dried hair behind her ears. Beth nodded.

Kat shuffled to the kitchen. Once Kat had poured Beth’s drink and handed it to her, she walked, without a word, back toward the sofa and sat. Beth followed and sat at the far end of the couch, sipping her drink.

Kat placed the TV on pause as Jack Black started singing about straight As, then she turned to her friend. “How are you?”

Beth gave a small smile. “I’m okay.” She placed her glass on a coaster on the coffee table. “How are you?”

Kat crossed her arms, feeling weirdly defensive. “I’m fine. Tired.”

Beth clasped her hands in her lap. “Austin said you weren’t well. That’s why I came: to see if I could do anything for you.”

Kat sighed, thinking about the text that she’d sent Austin, the lie she’d written to get out of going for drinks with him, unable to see him after the kiss with Carter. “I don’t need anything.” She saw an uncomfortable shift in her friend. “So where’ve you been? You haven’t replied to any of my texts.”

“I know,” Beth conceded. “I’m sorry. There’s been some family stuff Adam’s been dealing with.” Her eyes darted to a pile of Carter’s work lying on Kat’s coffee table.

“Is everything okay? You should have called.” Kat blinked at the answering silence. “Have I upset you? You seem, I don’t know … off. And that whole performance at my birthday dinner—I just … get the feeling something’s wrong.”