A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(104)

“Carter, I—”

“Peaches,” Carter interrupted with a dip of his chin. “It’s six thirty on a f*cking Sunday morning. Now, I don’t know about you, but I could sure as hell sleep another few hours.”

Kat laughed at his expression. She was so very tired. Her whole body was exhausted.

“All right,” she murmured. She kneeled on the bed and shuffled ungracefully under the covers. Carter tucked them around her.

She froze for a moment, loving the softness of the mattress and pillows, before she turned her head back toward Carter. He was looking down at her, leaning over her on his forearm. The tenderness of his eyes had dissolved into something else that made Kat’s mouth dry. He looked hungry.

“I thought you were sleeping, too?” she asked with a nod toward the bed.

His eyes seemed to snap back into focus and he frowned in response, clearly confused. “I will.”

“So why are you not under the covers?”

Carter’s cheeks tinged pink and he shifted away from her, the muscles in his chest tightening minutely.

“Yeah,” he muttered. He glanced down at himself. “I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I’ll just stay here. I’m fine.”

After watching his face for a few seconds, Kat released a disbelieving laugh. Hadn’t this man been between her legs with his mouth on her nipple not seven hours earlier? Hadn’t she cried and sobbed into his neck as she told him she needed and missed him, while he promised to never let her go?

She snorted tiredly, nuzzling the pillow under her head. “Carter, shut up and get under the covers.”

He stayed where he was for a while, but she could feel the bed jiggling as though he was shaking his foot or something. Was he nervous? Just as she was about to turn back around and tell him to move his ass, the covers lifted and his body moved smoothly underneath them. He was close enough to her that she could feel the heat radiating from his body and she instinctively moved back.

“Are you cold?” His voice, although concerned, sounded tight.

“A little.” She pulled the covers tightly into the crook of her neck.

After a moment of silent and heavy stillness, Kat felt Carter’s hand slide hesitantly along her waist. His little finger lightly grazed the skin of her hip before he pulled her body firmly against his so they were spooning, just as they’d been when she’d first woken up.

At first, Kat tensed, and silently willed her body to keep calm and stay quiet. It was embarrassing to simply think about how much his touch affected her. Her heart raced, her skin tingled, and the juncture between her thighs throbbed with an aching need. But, as she felt Carter’s solidity press into her back and his muscular arm wind around her, Kat’s body began to melt and relax.

“Is this okay?” Carter whispered, his breath caressing the skin of Kat’s neck like silk.

“Yeah,” she answered. “It’s okay.”

With a contented smile, Kat placed her palm over the back of his hand—against her stomach—and pushed her fingers, little by little, into the spaces between his.

It didn’t surprise her that they fit perfectly.

*

It was a little before eleven when Carter opened his eyes again.

For a split second, he wondered where the f*ck he was, until he realized Peaches’ hair was covering his face like a peach-scented, auburn mask. He moved his head back. Contentment tugged at his stomach when he saw they hadn’t moved from their original position, and their hands were still entwined against her body. Like a creeper, he watched her sleeping before she began to stir.