A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(87)

“I want you,” he murmured into her ear, before placing another kiss in the hollow behind her ear. “God help me, I don’t care if it’s against the rules. I want you so f*cking much.”

She turned her head, looking him straight in the eye, and smiled like a vixen. “I want you, too.”

Carter spun her around, grasped her hand, and pulled her toward a dark corner of the club. He pushed her against the wall, nose to nose, his hands at either side of her head. “Say it again,” he demanded.

“What?” she asked, her eyes large and glazed with alcohol.

“Tell me that you want me,” he ordered. “I need to hear that. You have no f*cking idea.”

“I want you.”

Before she could say another word, Carter grabbed her face and crushed his mouth to hers, letting the delicious burn of her confession seep into his bones, into his soul. Her hands were immediately on his neck, tugging and pulling him closer while their tongues were pushing from his mouth to hers. She tasted incredible. Jesus, he’d almost forgotten how good she felt. He ground into her like a prick, but, shit, he couldn’t help it. He needed friction against her. He wanted inside her.

The kiss was hot, hungry, and wet.

He pushed and she pushed back, blazing his body with desire fierce enough to leave him breathless. And her scent? Fuck. Her scent dazed Carter in such a way that he almost didn’t hear his name being called.

Three times.

He pulled back, placing gentle kisses along her jawline. “What, baby?” he groaned against Peaches’ lips.

“It wasn’t me,” she said, turning her head toward where the voice had originated.

Confused, Carter turned to see Paul standing there, looking all sorts of chaotic.

“What?” Carter snarled, shielding the woman in his arms.

“I’m sorry, man,” Paul stuttered. “It’s Max. He left. I couldn’t stop him. He was muttering something about that deal and some guys followed him out and— I don’t know, but they looked like they meant business.”

Carter’s heart dropped. His mouth went dry. “I’ll— Shit. Give me a minute.”

Paul nodded sharply and left.

Carter let go of Peaches’ waist and slammed a palm against the wall. “Fuck!”

Peaches grabbed his face. “Hey. If he needs you, go.” Her eyes were soft but demanded no bullshit.

He dropped his forehead to hers. “But I need you.” He’d never said anything more honest.

She smiled against his cheek. “I know, but—”

Carter pressed his lips to hers. “No buts,” he mumbled. “For the love of God, please no buts.”

She laughed and rubbed her hand down the side of his face. The comfort he took from her touch was indescribable. “What I was going to say was it would be impossible to do anything tonight.”

Carter was crushed.

“I leave in the morning, and you have a friend to look after. Tonight is not the night.”

He knew she was right. He knew Max needed him. He knew taking Peaches home and f*cking her seven ways from Sunday was not the way he should go. But couldn’t they catch a break?

“Will you—will I hear from you next week?” he asked, not giving a f*ck that he sounded needy.

“Sure.” Her eyes roamed his face, as though memorizing him before their time apart. He liked it. “I think we need to have a long talk.”

Her words made Carter cold. “Okay,” he conceded and then groaned in frustration. “I gotta go. I’m sorry.”