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

Realizing she’d not noticed the artwork on his body while she was grinding all over him, her gaze wandered over his wide shoulders that were covered in the ink she’d seen on his arms. From his neck, the artwork moved past his collarbone to his strong stomach. He was a masterpiece. He was muscular, of course, but he didn’t scream body beautiful; he screamed strength and safety. He had a smattering of hair in the center of his chest that sat like an exclamation point next to his masculinity.

 

Kat cleared her throat and walked back into the bedroom. She stopped about two feet from the edge of the bed, not really knowing what she should say or do. She twisted her hands together at her stomach. She eventually glanced up to see Carter’s face was gentle, expecting nothing. She breathed a little easier and gave him a small smile.

 

“How ya doin’?”

 

“I’m okay.”

 

He raised a knowing eyebrow. “You’re a shitty liar.” He shook his head and patted his palm on the bed space next to him. “Come here.”

 

Kat’s body flushed. “What?”

 

Carter simply continued patting the bed.

 

He looked extremely appealing and mischievous, but there was also a tenderness in his eyes that Kat could do nothing but trust. She took another tentative step, and watched Carter pull the covers back for her. She stopped again, wondering if it was a sensible move to get back into his bed.

 

“Carter, I—”

 

“Peaches,” Carter interrupted with a dip of his chin. “It’s six thirty on a fucking Sunday morning. Now, I don’t know about you, but I could sure as hell sleep another few hours.”

 

Kat laughed at his expression. She was so very tired. Her whole body was exhausted.

 

“All right,” she murmured. She kneeled on the bed and shuffled ungracefully under the covers. Carter tucked them around her.

 

She froze for a moment, loving the softness of the mattress and pillows, before she turned her head back toward Carter. He was looking down at her, leaning over her on his forearm. The tenderness of his eyes had dissolved into something else that made Kat’s mouth dry. He looked hungry.

 

“I thought you were sleeping, too?” she asked with a nod toward the bed.

 

His eyes seemed to snap back into focus and he frowned in response, clearly confused. “I will.”

 

“So why are you not under the covers?”

 

Carter’s cheeks tinged pink and he shifted away from her, the muscles in his chest tightening minutely.

 

“Yeah,” he muttered. He glanced down at himself. “I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I’ll just stay here. I’m fine.”

 

After watching his face for a few seconds, Kat released a disbelieving laugh. Hadn’t this man been between her legs with his mouth on her nipple not seven hours earlier? Hadn’t she cried and sobbed into his neck as she told him she needed and missed him, while he promised to never let her go?

 

She snorted tiredly, nuzzling the pillow under her head. “Carter, shut up and get under the covers.”

 

He stayed where he was for a while, but she could feel the bed jiggling as though he was shaking his foot or something. Was he nervous? Just as she was about to turn back around and tell him to move his ass, the covers lifted and his body moved smoothly underneath them. He was close enough to her that she could feel the heat radiating from his body and she instinctively moved back.

 

“Are you cold?” His voice, although concerned, sounded tight.

 

“A little.” She pulled the covers tightly into the crook of her neck.

 

After a moment of silent and heavy stillness, Kat felt Carter’s hand slide hesitantly along her waist. His little finger lightly grazed the skin of her hip before he pulled her body firmly against his so they were spooning, just as they’d been when she’d first woken up.

 

At first, Kat tensed, and silently willed her body to keep calm and stay quiet. It was embarrassing to simply think about how much his touch affected her. Her heart raced, her skin tingled, and the juncture between her thighs throbbed with an aching need. But, as she felt Carter’s solidity press into her back and his muscular arm wind around her, Kat’s body began to melt and relax.

 

“Is this okay?” Carter whispered, his breath caressing the skin of Kat’s neck like silk.

 

“Yeah,” she answered. “It’s okay.”

 

With a contented smile, Kat placed her palm over the back of his hand—against her stomach—and pushed her fingers, little by little, into the spaces between his.

 

It didn’t surprise her that they fit perfectly.

 

*

 

It was a little before eleven when Carter opened his eyes again.

 

For a split second, he wondered where the fuck he was, until he realized Peaches’ hair was covering his face like a peach-scented, auburn mask. He moved his head back. Contentment tugged at his stomach when he saw they hadn’t moved from their original position, and their hands were still entwined against her body. Like a creeper, he watched her sleeping before she began to stir.

 

After an awkward cup of coffee, over which they shot each other fleeting glances and shy smiles, and after she’d agreed for him to take her home, Carter led a nervous-looking Peaches down to the garage in the basement of his building.

 

“You’ve ridden a motorcycle before, right?” he asked, trying like hell to hide the lusty excitement pumping through his body.

 

“Yeah,” she replied as they approached Kala. “But riding with you? That’s a little different.”

 

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