A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1) (22 page)

“He’s, um, he’s confused by his feelings.” He picked up his can of Coke and took a long sip.

“How do you know that?” She watched his Adam’s apple dip and rise in his throat.

“Because he misses her, you know, when, um, when she’s not there.”

His eyes met Kat’s for a split second, but that was enough time to send a burning-hot dagger of desire straight through her center.

“How do you know he’s confused?”

Carter smiled with the right corner of his mouth. A knowing look shimmered across his high cheekbones. “A hunch.” He looked at the text. He scratched at his jaw. “He’s … ‘hollow.’ He’s empty without her.”

His blue gaze lifted from Hemingway’s words. What Kat saw there made her heart almost stop.

Usually, when Carter’s eyes were on her, Kat saw raw sex and desire. It always tinged his irises, making them a cloudless blue. That was still there, but more prevalent than that was a remorseful haze surrounding every inch of his pupils. It was so clear, Kat knew without his saying a word how he was feeling. He was sorry. And she felt the exact same way.

She had no idea how long they sat—looking at each other, lost in each other—and only returned to where she was when Carter touched her. His palm was warm and comfortable on the back of her hand, and the hot fizz of energy that was always present between them breathed a sigh of relief.

It seemed like forever since he’d touched her.

Carter edged forward. “Peaches,” he said, allowing his thumb to smooth its way across her skin. He kept his eyes on the table where their hands joined. His hands felt so good. Fleetingly, her mind began to imagine how they would feel on other parts of her.

Her attraction to Carter was slowly turning into something more, something scary and irrevocable. She was tired of denying it, of course, but she still had to tread a careful path.

Carter’s hand squeezed hers. “About Saturday—”

“It’s fine.”

“No,” he retorted firmly. “It’s not. It was— I mean, yeah, the kiss was …” He raised his eyebrows. “Look, whatever you think of me, I didn’t kiss you to be a dick. Honestly.”

“I know, I—”

“The thing is.” He paused, his brows almost meeting in the middle. “The thing is, I might not have flowery fucking words or anything, but I’m … I’m serious about you.”

Dizziness accosted Kat, making her grip on Carter’s hand tighten.

“I know it’s not the perfect situation.” He pointed to himself. “I’m just a … and you’re … but, fuck, I’m happy to have anything you’re willing to give me at this point. Just sitting here with you would be enough.”

The sincerity of his words made Kat want to fall into his arms and never leave them. Unable to articulate how hard her heart was beating, she simply uttered, “Okay.”

Carter appeared satisfied with her answer. “Okay?”

She smiled.

“Are we good?” he asked quietly, watching her carefully.

Kat cleared her throat. “We’re good.”

Carter exhaled, seemingly torn. “I’m glad, but I need you to understand something, Peaches.” He licked his lips. “I’m not sorry, and I’d do it again in a fucking heartbeat.”

Oh God.

Realizing she was staring and barely breathing, Kat dragged her eyes from Carter and quickly pulled a folder full of papers from her bag. Change the subject. Change the subject …

“Do you want these now?” She placed them on the table.

Carter scowled. “And what are ‘these’?” He slid the folder toward himself.

“Your resources for next week.”

Carter blinked, confused.

“I’m going away,” Kat clarified. “With my family, to Washington, DC.” She let her fingertips dance along the edging of the table. “It’s the anniversary of my father’s … We do it every year. I’ll be out of town from Sunday to Sunday.”

Carter’s face changed imperceptibly. He didn’t look happy. After scratching the back of his neck, he slid his hands into his pockets. “Um, yeah, okay.” The frown was tight above the bridge of his nose.

“Just do what you can,” Kat encouraged. “I’ve assigned you some more reading and questions, and we need to talk about an assessment paper …”

She trailed off when Carter’s dark, somber gaze met hers.

“Text me,” she said without thinking. “Or call me if you need any help. Don’t hesitate. I— Yeah, just, just call me.”

“I will.”

Kat tried to smile but it was harder work than she expected. Leaving to be with her family at this time of the year was one thing; leaving Carter for a whole week was another. She was suddenly very hollow indeed.

* * *

Carter was edgy: edgy and fucking miserable, to be quite honest, despite it being Saturday night.

He took a huge gulp from the fifth bottle of Corona placed in his hand by Max and rubbed a finger along his eyebrow. Seriously, seven days. How hard could it be? He only saw his Peaches three times a week anyway, so technically it was only six hours he’d be missing.

Big. Deal.

He sighed. Yeah, it
was
a big deal. They’d had their last session a day ago and already he could feel an uncomfortable sensation of wanting and emptiness curl within his stomach at the thought of not seeing her.

Dammit.

Paul, Max’s head mechanic from the body shop, knocked Carter’s elbow, which was resting on the bar.

“What’s up?” he asked above the music. “You look like someone pissed on Kala.”

Carter stood from his hunched position. “Nothin’. I’m good.”

“Don’t lie,” Paul smirked. “You hate this club, don’t you? It’s all right to admit it to me. Max loves it, but I don’t see the appeal.”

Two statuesque blondes sauntered past, causing the two men to stare at their minimal clothing and flirtatious smiles.

Carter chuckled. He clinked his bottle against Paul’s. “Where is Max?” he asked, narrowing his eyes toward the dance floor in the hopes of spotting his friend.

“Outside having a smoke,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “With his new friend Laura. He’s shitfaced already, high as a damned kite, yammering on about some deal he’s doing tonight.”

Carter rolled his eyes in frustration. From the snippets he’d heard from the other boys at the shop, since Lizzie had left, Max had lost himself in many women. As much as Max played that he was okay and lived for bedding the females he did, Carter knew he was simply trying to fuck the pain away. With the amount of coke Max was doing, it was clear that the one-night stands weren’t working. Asshole was on a slippery slope.

“He needs to get out of that shit,” Carter muttered.

“No doubt,” Paul agreed. “But he’s not going to listen to either of us, you know that. He’s in too deep. When that bitch left, she took the best parts of him with her.”

Carter knew that Max had hit the blow hard as soon as she’d left. It had been so difficult for Carter stuck in Kill, unable to be there for his friend. “Was it really bad?”

Paul sighed. “Yeah. Tried to act as if he wasn’t dying on the inside after losing his woman so soon after losing the baby. Pretended he was all right while he shoved that shit up his nose.” Paul sipped from his beer. “I’m just waiting for something to happen, for shit to hit the fan and—”

“I won’t let anything happen,” Carter snapped.

Paul smiled knowingly. “I know, man.” He clapped Carter’s shoulder. “I know. But you and I can’t always be there for him. He’s a grown man and a law unto himself. I worry.”

Carter knew what Paul meant. Despite their friendship of nearly twenty years, Max would do what he wanted, no matter the consequences. His stubbornness was what the two men argued about most. His best friend was broken, that shit was clear as day, but Carter had no idea how to fix him, or even if he could.

Carter and Paul stood watching the dance floor writhe and bounce. “Sidebar: it’s about time we found you a woman, Carter.” Paul nodded toward a group of women grinding and dipping to the beat.

“Come on, man.” Carter sighed. “I don’t need a woman.”

“Why?”

“Because women are hard work and fucking trouble. I have enough of that with Max.”

Besides, he didn’t want just any woman. He wanted one very specific woman.

Laughing in agreement, Paul set down another two drinks on the bar. Carter grabbed eagerly at the Jack and Coke and took half of that shit down in one. Yep. That was what he needed. He needed to stop thinking about his Peaches and nut up. He needed to stop obsessing, worrying, fantasizing—

Carter paused with the glass at his lips and blinked twice. Jesus. Was he hallucinating now? He almost broke his neck trying to see—over and around the writhing rhythmic bodies—the auburn-haired woman dancing about thirty feet away from him.

Holy. Mother. Of. God.

It was Peaches.

And fuck him running if she wasn’t wearing the sexiest dress he’d ever seen. It was black and silk and dipped so low at the back he could almost see the dimples above her ass. Shit. And a bare back meant only one thing.

No bra.

His cock, immediately hard, started biting through the buttons on his fly to get at her, while his heart thumped like a damn hammer. Her body moved like water: graceful and flowing effortlessly. Her hair was up in a twist that was sexy and elegant and the heels she wore would have looked amazing … on Carter’s shoulders.

He swallowed and smiled as she dipped and mimed the words to the song. Her hands moved against her hips, causing jealousy to burst through Carter’s body. It should have been his hands, his fingers gripping her tightly. He managed to drag his eyes from her to see she was ostensibly dancing with a small blonde girl who was wrapped around some dude with a mohawk. She was cute, but Peaches was sex. No, scratch that. More like hot, raw, up-against-the-wall fucking, and Carter immediately wanted all over that shit.

And apparently so did the guy standing five feet to Peaches’ left.

A growl built somewhere deep and dark within Carter’s chest and his hands balled into fists when the asswipe walked toward her, fiddling with his hair as he did.

Before he could consider his actions, Carter was pushing away from the bar, leaving Paul shouting at his back. He shoved his way through the crowd toward Peaches and the prick who clearly didn’t like his head on his goddamn shoulders. Carter had never been so protective about anything in his life, and the adrenaline that coursed through him was a thing of beauty.

Just as the jerkoff reached out for Peaches’ waist, Carter grabbed his arm and twisted it. Hard. Prick stumbled as Carter pushed him backward. Carter leaned in closely to his ear to make sure he heard every word.

“You do not fucking touch. You do? I’ll rip your arm from the socket.
Capisce?
”

Prick didn’t even argue. Carter released him and mouthed:
Fuck off.
He didn’t need to be told twice. Carter exhaled his growl as the douchebag slunk off into the depths of the crowd, before he turned toward Peaches. Luckily, she hadn’t noticed the exchange, or him, which was perfect.

He moved behind her and lifted his hands.

The blonde Peaches was with noticed his move. Her face was a picture as she took Carter in from head to feet, intrigued and lascivious, but Carter couldn’t have given a shit. All he cared about was touching the delicious creature in front of him.

Peaches, sensing someone behind her, made to spin around. Carter grabbed the tops of her arms, holding her in position—her back against his chest—and put his mouth to her ear at the same time the opening bars of Blackstreet and Dr. Dre’s “No Diggity” began to blast around the club. He moved his nose closer. She smelled incredible.

“Do you know what you’re doing to every man in this club, Peaches?”

Her body stiffened in his hands. He loosened his grip and let his palms slide down to the crooks of her elbows. He smiled when he saw gooseflesh pop up all over her and pulled her back against him.

“Do you know what you’re doing to
me
?”

His hands moved farther down, over her soft forearms, to her wrists and then to her hands. Carter waited for her to tell him to stop, praying to everything that was holy that she wouldn’t. Instead, she turned her head toward his so her nose grazed the right side of his jaw.

“What do I do to you, Carter?” she purred, twisting her fingers in between his and squeezing his hands against her stomach.

“You make me want to commit murder against every man who’s looking at you and thinking about touching you.”

She moaned and he saw the twists of a smile on her lips. Her plump, glossy lips.

“Are you jealous, Carter?” She moved her hips, oh so slowly, against him.

He pushed back and that time he heard a gasp when his cock pressed against her luscious ass.

“So jealous.” Moving his nose farther into her hair, he lost himself to the awesome scent of sweet, juicy peaches. “Can you feel it?” He pushed against her again and moaned deep in his throat when she rotated her hips in reply.

He released her hands but kept his palms flat against her silk-covered stomach. He edged them outward until he came to her hips. As he’d imagined, they fit perfectly in his large hands. He clutched on to them, holding her against him, and dipped to the music. Carter couldn’t hold back his groan when she started dancing, pressing herself into him, and leaning her head to his so they were nose to cheek.

Peaches’ hands found his. She grasped them and began to move a little faster.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m dancing with you, Carter. Why? What does it feel like?”

“It feels fucking perfect.” His hands moved up her sides so that his thumbs were brushing the undersides of her breasts.

What he would give to feel them. To feel her nipples tightening under his fingertips. To have his mouth on them. To taste the skin all over her body. He ground his hips into her again and placed a soft kiss on her shoulder. Her response was to lean her head back and curl her arms upward, behind his neck.

Carter groaned into her skin when her nails moved up to his scalp. Their bodies moved together from side to side. Peaches’ ass was placed perfectly in his crotch while he moved his hands lazily up and down the sides of her body. When his palms reached the edge of her dress on her thighs, he was bold enough to let his fingertips dance across her soft skin. Her nails bit into his head. She moaned.