Before he could consider his actions, Carter was pushing away from the bar, leaving Paul shouting at his back. He shoved his way through the crowd toward Peaches and the prick who clearly didn’t like his head on his goddamn shoulders. Carter had never been so protective about anything in his life, and the adrenaline that coursed through him was a thing of beauty.
Just as the jerkoff reached out for Peaches’ waist, Carter grabbed his arm and twisted it. Hard. Prick stumbled as Carter pushed him backward. Carter leaned in closely to his ear to make sure he heard every word.
“You do not fucking touch. You do? I’ll rip your arm from the socket. Capisce?”
Prick didn’t even argue. Carter released him and mouthed: Fuck off. He didn’t need to be told twice. Carter exhaled his growl as the douchebag slunk off into the depths of the crowd, before he turned toward Peaches. Luckily, she hadn’t noticed the exchange, or him, which was perfect.
He moved behind her and lifted his hands.
The blonde Peaches was with noticed his move. Her face was a picture as she took Carter in from head to feet, intrigued and lascivious, but Carter couldn’t have given a shit. All he cared about was touching the delicious creature in front of him.
Peaches, sensing someone behind her, made to spin around. Carter grabbed the tops of her arms, holding her in position—her back against his chest—and put his mouth to her ear at the same time the opening bars of Blackstreet and Dr. Dre’s “No Diggity” began to blast around the club. He moved his nose closer. She smelled incredible.
“Do you know what you’re doing to every man in this club, Peaches?”
Her body stiffened in his hands. He loosened his grip and let his palms slide down to the crooks of her elbows. He smiled when he saw gooseflesh pop up all over her and pulled her back against him.
“Do you know what you’re doing to me?”
His hands moved farther down, over her soft forearms, to her wrists and then to her hands. Carter waited for her to tell him to stop, praying to everything that was holy that she wouldn’t. Instead, she turned her head toward his so her nose grazed the right side of his jaw.
“What do I do to you, Carter?” she purred, twisting her fingers in between his and squeezing his hands against her stomach.
“You make me want to commit murder against every man who’s looking at you and thinking about touching you.”
She moaned and he saw the twists of a smile on her lips. Her plump, glossy lips.
“Are you jealous, Carter?” She moved her hips, oh so slowly, against him.
He pushed back and that time he heard a gasp when his cock pressed against her luscious ass.
“So jealous.” Moving his nose farther into her hair, he lost himself to the awesome scent of sweet, juicy peaches. “Can you feel it?” He pushed against her again and moaned deep in his throat when she rotated her hips in reply.
He released her hands but kept his palms flat against her silk-covered stomach. He edged them outward until he came to her hips. As he’d imagined, they fit perfectly in his large hands. He clutched on to them, holding her against him, and dipped to the music. Carter couldn’t hold back his groan when she started dancing, pressing herself into him, and leaning her head to his so they were nose to cheek.
Peaches’ hands found his. She grasped them and began to move a little faster.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m dancing with you, Carter. Why? What does it feel like?”
“It feels fucking perfect.” His hands moved up her sides so that his thumbs were brushing the undersides of her breasts.
What he would give to feel them. To feel her nipples tightening under his fingertips. To have his mouth on them. To taste the skin all over her body. He ground his hips into her again and placed a soft kiss on her shoulder. Her response was to lean her head back and curl her arms upward, behind his neck.
Carter groaned into her skin when her nails moved up to his scalp. Their bodies moved together from side to side. Peaches’ ass was placed perfectly in his crotch while he moved his hands lazily up and down the sides of her body. When his palms reached the edge of her dress on her thighs, he was bold enough to let his fingertips dance across her soft skin. Her nails bit into his head. She moaned.
“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 fucking 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 fucking idea.”