A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(36)

Peaches instantly sat back and brushed her hand down the skin he’d touched. Carter rubbed his fingertips down his thigh to ease the heat that resided there.

“I’m— Shit,” he mumbled, grabbing for another cigarette. “I shouldn’t have. Sorry.” He lit his smoke and inhaled three times in quick succession. “You just … you looked upset, ya know, and— Fuck it. I shouldn’t …”

All he’d wanted to do was make her feel better, smile, maybe.

“Carter,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. His eyes shot to hers, cigarette dangling from his speechless mouth. “It’s all right.” She gave a small smile. “I appreciated it. Thank you.”

Carter blinked. ”Yeah,” he offered. “Yeah. Whatever. Cool.”

Peaches released his shoulder after giving it a reassuring squeeze and pulled the book closer. “Shall we continue?”

Carter groaned and rubbed his palms down his face. “Bring on that Shakespeare shit, Peaches.”

“Peaches?” she asked with a dip of her chin. “You keep calling me that. Where does that come from?”

Panic sliced through Carter. “It’s, um …” He fingered the cigarette pack. “I dunno. Why? Does it offend you?”

“No, I was just curious.”

He pulled long and hard on his smoke. “I can just call you Miss Lane, if you prefer.”

She was silent for a few seconds. “No,” she replied finally. “Most people call me Kat, but I guess you can call me Peaches—on one condition.”

“What’s the condition?” he asked with a wry grin.

Peaches folded her arms, pushing her boobs up in ways that looked all kinds of awesome. “If I can call you Wes.”

Carter stared at her. Well, hell. His name had never sounded so soft, so … nice. “I— That’s a … I’m not sure. I mean, only Jack calls me that,” he stammered, throwing his cigarette into the ashtray. “I’m not— I mean, Christ.” Both hands found his scalp. How could he explain his hatred of his Christian name? That was a long-ass, depressing story.

“Okay, I get it. Carter it’ll be,” she said, touching his right shoulder blade. “Actually, instead, maybe I’ll name you after a fruit. How about Kiwi?”

The burst of laughter that exploded from him felt new and fantastic. Peaches laughed along with him. Dammit, she was gorgeous when she laughed. Her whole face lit up and her eyes crinkled, almost disappearing. Carter was mesmerized.

“Okay, enough of this.” She chuckled. “Let’s get to work.”

The discussion points she produced elicited heated debates, which they both enjoyed more than they should have. They argued and undermined one another, but the atmosphere was playful and light and, Carter couldn’t deny, sexy as hell.

“Shit,” Peaches cursed, taking Carter by surprise. “It’s late.”

He glanced at the clock. They’d run over by twenty-five minutes. “Time flies when you’re having fun, right?” The wink he sent her way caused her cheeks to pinken. “You, um, you got a date or something?” Carter asked as she rushed, throwing her shit into her bag.

“Oh no!” She gave a vigorous shake of her head. “I don’t have a date. I—I’m single.” She snapped her mouth shut and briefly closed her eyes.

Carter could barely hide his elation. Or his relief. She belonged to no one. No man had claimed her, made her his. His mind boggled. Christ, were they all f*cking insane?