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.”

“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 fucking 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 fuck 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.”

“Go,” she said with a soft smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

Without a pause, his mouth met hers again, nipping and sucking desperately at her lips. He pushed from the wall.

“Be careful,” he ordered with a pointed finger. “Text me when you get home tonight.”

Peaches laughed and saluted him.

“I mean it,” he said, no hint of playing in his voice.

Her smile dropped. “I will. I promise. Go and look after Max.”

18

Carter heard Max before he saw him. The idiot was shouting something about leaving him the fuck alone. There was scuffling and a yelp. Carter strode into Max’s sitting room, past a furious-looking Paul, to find Max draped across his couch, looking three sheets to the wind, with a busted nose and a right eye that was closing up nicely.

“Fuck’s sake,” Carter muttered.

“Carter!” Max called with a wide, blitzed, drunken smile. “Check this out!” He proceeded to lift his shirt to show several large bruises and a cut along his rib.

Carter’s head snapped toward Paul and Cam, the latter of whom was sitting in a corner of the room with a joint in his hand and a whore on his lap. “Where the fuck were you when all this went down?”

Paul held his hands up and shook his head. “Don’t bring it here, man,” he warned. “The idiot left us, told us to stay where we were. I did my best!”

“No doubt,” Carter conceded. “Were the cops involved?”

Paul shook his head. “The fuckers hauled ass before they made an entrance.”

Carter walked over to Max, who had shut up and mellowed while he watched his friend Al spark a smoke and hand it to him. Max moaned when he inhaled and blew out the smoke but flinched and grimaced when he tried to move. The bastards had sure given him a beating.

“How many were there?” Carter asked Paul.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “There were two when I got there, but there could have been more.”

Yeah, no shit. Max looked like he’d been set upon by the entire National Guard.

Laura, Max’s latest toy, still in her club outfit, appeared from the kitchen with a bowl of water and a towel. She gave Carter a tight smile before she kneeled at Max’s side and began trying to clean him up. “Trying” being the operative word, as Max swatted her away while mumbling expletives.

“Stop it, O’Hare,” she snapped, “before I put you on your ass for real!”

Max grinned at her, cigarette dangling from his bloodied lips, and winked with his good eye. “You know you make me hard when ya talk that way.”

Laura rolled her eyes and continued to dab at Max’s mangled face.

“We need to get your dumb ass to the hospital,” Carter said. Laura unfastened Max’s shirt and the full extent of what had been done to him could be seen by all. Carter’s teeth clenched when Max jumped as Laura ran the towel across his ribs.

“I’m fine,” Max answered. “Besides, the hospital asks questions.”

“Max,” Carter argued. “If we just take—”

“I’m not going,” Max said in a tone that demanded compliance. “The docs will call the fuzz. I don’t need them on my case. Not that they’d find shit. The fuckers took my coke.”

Carter ran a hand across his jaw and exhaled in frustration. “How much?”

“Enough.” Max eyed him curiously. “I thought you were at the bar. Paul said something about you disappearing.”

Carter avoided Max’s stare and grabbed for the cigarettes in his back pocket. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I went for a walk.”

Max snorted and winced all at the same time. “A walk, huh? And what’s her name?”

Ignoring his question, Carter opened his lighter. He shook his head, watching Max flail when Laura tried to put an ice pack on his face. “The fuck were you thinking?”

“Don’t worry,” Max soothed with a drunken wave of his hand. “I’ll get that coke back. I swear to God, I will. You’ve got my back, right?”

Carter sighed and took a long pull from his smoke. “Sure, Max.”

He lifted from his seat and pulled his cell from his jeans pocket when he felt it vibrate: a text. Peaches.

I’m home and fine.

Carter smiled. He allowed his index finger to linger along his bottom lip, remembering the feel of her mouth on his, and the sensation of having her in his arms. He knew there were parts of himself—unknown, unexplored, and dormant parts—that whispered certain words in an attempt to label what it was he was feeling for her. So far, he’d dismissed them swiftly and fervently and simply continued to lust after her body and mind. He didn’t want a goddamn label, he just wanted his Peaches in as many ways as she would allow.

He glanced at his bruised friend, fighting the ball of unease and anxiety that swelled in his stomach at the thought of being arrested because of Max’s stupidity. At this rate, Carter would be back in Kill before Christmas.