A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(75)

“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 f*cking 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, f*ck, 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.