“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.

“Peaches,” he moaned, taking her hand and words in the wrong way. He kissed her harder, plunging his tongue farther into her mouth and pressing his hips firmer against her stomach.

Kat shook her head, making their lips slide against one another. “Please stop.”

But the words didn’t reach Carter’s ears. She knew. He was too far gone.

“Please, I can’t,” Kat said again, pushing a little harder. “Stop, Carter.”

Her words finally met his ears. “What?” he asked through his daze, his lips barely stopping.

“Stop.” She pushed again and he moved back, but not far enough. “I said stop!”

She pushed with all her strength and, this time, he stumbled back.

* * *

Carter stared at her in utter confusion, taking in her perfectly plump red lips, before she covered them with her hand. Gathering his wits, he realized with a terrifying jolt that she was crying. Carter’s heart dropped to the soles of his shoes.

“Peaches,” he murmured. He took a step toward her but stopped when she held up her hand. “I— What the …? Shit, did I hurt you?”

She shook her head. “No. You didn’t hurt me.”

“Then what?” He risked taking another step and breathed easier when she didn’t stop him. The urge to be near her, now that he’d tasted her, was so fucking strong.

“We just … I can’t believe—” She looked up. “Do you realize what could happen if people knew what we just did?”

Yeah, he did know, but right then he couldn’t have given a shit. “Peaches,” he said, holding out a hand, which she didn’t take. “It’s okay.”

Her head snapped up. “Okay?” she exclaimed. “There is nothing okay about this, Carter. I’m your teacher!”

“Don’t yell at me,” he fumed, his temper rippling. “I know exactly what you are. I also know that you liked it just as much as I did.”

“Regardless,” she snapped, “it can’t happen again. It won’t happen again.”

Searing pain sliced across Carter’s chest, and he covered it with anger. “What-the-fuck-ever. Like I give a shit if it happens again.”

Her eyes met his and he immediately saw the hurt. He swallowed down his pride. “Peaches, I— Shit— I …” He hesitated, feeling that, somehow, “sorry” wasn’t nearly enough to fix the moment.

“I’m going home,” she muttered.

Carter noticed how tired and small she looked. He was almost desperate with need to take care of her and make it better.

She started to turn from him, and he took another step toward her. “Peach—”

“Don’t,” she begged, closing her eyes. “Just … don’t.” Her shoulders fell. “Carter, I’m sorry that I—I didn’t mean to lead you on. The kiss was— I need to go home.” Her eyes opened slowly. “I’ll see you on Tuesday.” She kept her eyes on his for a beat before she turned away.

Carter stood silently and watched her walk away, certain that she was taking half of him with her.

15

Carter’s entire apartment shook as he slammed the door shut behind him. He launched his keys and jacket against the wall, threw his helmet on the sofa, and collapsed against the breakfast bar of his loft. He’d been struggling to breathe properly since Peaches had walked away from him.

She’d walked away.

Christ, that had hurt.

When Carter had put his mouth to Peaches’, he’d lost himself. She felt so good pressed against him and yet, he could do nothing but handle her as though she would fracture under his fingertips. He’d never kissed a woman that way before. He’d surprised himself at his own tenderness. The hunger for her that resided deep within him was desperate to take her wild and hard against the tree, but the moment they touched he knew there was no way he could do that to her. He beat the hunger back and held her as gently as he could.

Their lips had moved together so slowly and tentatively. But Carter had wanted more.

With her pulse thrumming under his fingertips, he’d kissed her with everything he had. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted to feel more of her. He wanted her to touch him.

He’d fucked up. He shouldn’t have kissed her. Peaches had even told him not to. But he’d done it regardless. He just didn’t have the fight left in him anymore.

He knew, now that he had experienced the feel of Peaches on his lips, he had to have it again. And he knew that was an impossibility, just as she had told him. Nevertheless, Carter couldn’t help but suspect her determined promise that it wouldn’t or couldn’t happen again was a carefully constructed front that hid her own desires for him. She’d kissed him back, for fuck’s sake. She wanted it, too. Didn’t she?

He rubbed his brow at the realization that the situation just wasn’t on their side.

Carter wasn’t stupid; he understood she had a lot more to lose than he did and that, should their kiss be found out, she could be in a whole heap of shit. But he didn’t have to like it. His temper and selfish side started to escalate.

He thought back to what he’d said to her. What-the-fuck-ever. Like I give a shit if it happens again.

He was a lying son of a bitch.

The fact was her words had hurt. He’d been hurt before, by many people in his life, but Peaches seemed to know how to cut him to the quick. He wasn’t so much of a dick that he couldn’t admit it. She’d hurt him and he was pissed.

He glanced at the clock, a bitch of a headache starting in his temples. It was just before five, and he needed something to help him chill out and cut loose. He needed to stop thinking about Miss Lane, with her soft lips and peach-flavored tongue.

He pulled out his cell and found his contacts list. The line rang three times.

“Yo, Carter! How was your date—I mean, session?”

“Eat a dick, Max,” Carter snarled, striding toward his bedroom.

“Whoa, such hostility! It didn’t go well, I take it?”

Carter pulled his T-shirt over his head and dropped down onto the corner of his bed. “No. It didn’t,” he snapped. “Look, what have you got planned for tonight?”

“Not much. Why, you thinkin’ of something?”

Carter ran a hand down his face. “I need to get shitfaced, and quick. Where can we go?”

Max laughed. “I know just the place, my man. Come to the body shop in an hour.”

“I’ll be there in thirty.”

* * *

“Keep moving!” the stranger hissed from under his hood. “We have to get away from them. They’ll kill you! Move!”

“I can’t! My dad!”

The stranger didn’t stop to listen. Gunfire filled the air. Kat screamed. She began running but was wrestled to the ground. He was heavy on top of her back and smelled of cigarettes.

The sidewalk was so cold.