A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(99)

There were no words for her taste. No fantasy had come close. “Perfection” seemed insanely inadequate.

He groaned, pushing his hips into her again, hungry for any kind of friction, and watched in awe as her back arched in pleasure. He had to get inside her, had to feel her around him.

Carter lifted onto his forearms and searched her face for any signs of hesitation. If he saw any he’d be devastated, but he had to know that she was sure. He could smell the sweet scent of Amaretto on her breath, which meant she wasn’t as sober as he would have liked, but the way in which she responded to his touch suggested she was as ready as he was.

Their eyes connected and a flash of something heart-wrenching crossed the green of her irises. He pulled back in concern. “Peaches,” he murmured, but her fingers pressed hard against his lips.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t think. Please. I need you to not think and just be with me.” She pulled his face back to hers and smothered his mouth with long kisses that set his bones alight.

Carter tried to listen to his gut, he tried to listen to the sensible part of his brain, but her mouth and hands were far too distracting. Swallowing his conscience with one huge gulp, he gripped the zipper of her top and pulled it down in one fluid movement.

Jesus.

No bra.

“Shit.” He licked his lips and just f*cking stared. She was gorgeous; her dark stiff nipples ached to have his lips and tongue around them. “You’re— My God, you’re perfect.”

Before she could reply, Carter’s mouth fell against her right breast, where he hollowed out his cheeks and sucked as hard as he could. Sweet fruits. Her breasts were so perfectly heavy and full in his hands. With a guttural moan, Peaches’ legs wrapped farther around him, and her nails scored the fabric of his T-shirt. She gasped and whimpered into his buzzed hair.

“I need to feel you,” she groaned, pulling at the shirt’s hem. “Please let me feel you against me.”

Without a second’s pause, Carter released her nipple, grabbed the neck of his T-shirt, and yanked it over his head. He crashed back down onto her, grunting at the feel of her bare skin against his.

While he continued to worship her, she released her arms from the confines of her hooded top and—as soon as she was free of it—he grabbed her hands and pushed them above her head, crushing them into the mattress of the bed.

[page]Their tongues met again between their mouths in the open air, twisting and dancing amid soft moans and silent confessions of feelings too big and scary to say aloud. Peaches gripped Carter’s fingers between hers and lifted her head from the bed, urgently seeking from him what Carter was more than willing to give. He wanted to give her everything, anything.

Fuck, he already had. He knew in his heart that she owned him.

“Say it,” she gasped against his cheek when he began licking at her jaw. “Say you want me. I need—I need to hear it. I need to hear it.”

Carter growled into her cleavage. “I want you.” His teeth grazed her sternum. “I’ve always wanted you.”

My whole life.

“Again,” she croaked, her voice trembling. “Tell me this is right. Tell me we’re right.”

Carter, stunned at her words, glanced up.

What he saw knocked every ounce of breath out of him. Her eyes were clenched shut, her face in an almost grimace of pain, and a small shimmer could be seen at the inside corner of her right eye. She was crying.

“Peaches,” he whispered, and lifted his body, terrified that he’d done something wrong, something she didn’t want. “What’s wrong? Did I— Was I too rough?”