The closer she got to the address on her GPS, the bigger the houses appeared. Not that she should have been surprised after Carter’s confession about his wealth. He could easily afford any house along the East Coast and still have change left over. Not that she gave a damn about any of that. He could have had five dollars left in the entire world and she’d still lov—

Her smile grew, undaunted by the direction her thoughts had taken. She turned up the volume on the car stereo and sang along.

The sky turned a stunning pink and orange above the rough gray sea, and the sand dunes rolled for miles. Even though it was cold, Kat wound down her window and, after putting on her shades, let the fresh ocean air blast into the car. It smelled wonderful. It smelled of freedom and fun. It smelled of her father. Christ, she missed the beach. It’d been too long.

Turning a long corner, Kat faced an endless stretch of sand upon which stood a beautiful two-story white house with a dark blue roof. The house was exquisite, made up of white paneling with a wraparound porch and balconies on the top levels. It reminded Kat of the large family homes she’d seen in the South as a child with Nana Boo.

Coming to a stop, Kat killed the engine and gradually opened the car door. The air swept around her, whipping her loose hair around her face and pounding her skin with sand. She gazed at the picture-perfect scene before her, wanting nothing more than to go running into the ocean.

* * *

There had been so many moments in his life where Carter had felt disappointment or frustration in some form or another that he had lost count. Depressingly, since the day of his birth, the two emotions had seemingly followed him everywhere he’d gone, running concurrently with everything he did, along with every choice he made.

From learning about his mother’s desire to “get rid” of him, and her subsequent intolerance of him as a child, to the day his own father sent him away to a strange boarding school at the tender age of nine—even though the small dark-haired boy had begged and pleaded for his daddy not to—Carter had learned to become immune to the sting of things going to shit.

He was used to it, he shrugged it off, and, in many ways—as cynical as it was—Carter had started to expect the worst in all situations and people. At least that way he was never taken by surprise, and the arrogant, devil-may-care armor he covered himself in continued to protect him from any and all pain that came with being around fuckers and fuckups.

Carter was an angry son of a bitch and had accepted that particular fact years ago. He didn’t like it and he hated the roots of it, but, shit, how else was he supposed to feel after everything he’d been through? He’d resigned himself to being that way his whole life.

Well, until Peaches came back into his life.

Kat.

The woman had been an enigma to him from the get-go. She’d driven him fucking crazy—still did—but, as time had gone on, along with his prison release and the changes in his and Kat’s relationship, Carter had begun to realize that, as much as she could rile him and get on his last damn nerve, she also managed to calm him.

After the most intense fucking of his life, while he’d held a sleeping Kat in his arms, in his bed, Carter had experienced something that he was utterly unfamiliar with: peace.

It wasn’t that his brain turned off completely while she was around, or that he had had some cheesy spiritual enlightenment while they’d come together. It was simply that Kat seemed to help lower his brain volume. The frustration, anger, and disappointment that twisted constantly within him were blunted by Kat’s presence. He could breathe better, relax, feel more himself—and he’d basked unashamedly in his newfound slice of serenity.

Certainly, his Kat was a paradox. Her touch and words grounded him, while her kisses made him fly. At times she made him want to rip the city up in rage, but she could also make him smile like no one else. Her hugs and caresses dazed him as much as her furious verbal slaps, and Carter still wasn’t decided about whether her fiery anger turned him on more than her sexual passion.

The juxtaposition was intense and, for Carter, absolutely perfect. Just like she was.

Her fire and strength, and her tenderness and sensitivity, were what made Kat so special. As ferocious as she could be, she could also be soft and quiet: molten fire and relaxing warmth. Carter loved that she kept him on his toes. He loved the spontaneity and the passion that smoldered continually between them, and he loved that she met him with every touch, kiss, and thrust with as much intensity as he felt.

She was everything he needed or wanted. But, as much as he should have been embracing his feelings for this spectacular woman, Carter found himself entirely terrified by them.

He was a pussy, he knew, but it was the unknown, the unfamiliarity, and the vulnerability that he had opened himself up to that left a sheen of sweat on his brow and a flutter in his heart. His armor had been delivered a huge blow when he’d pushed himself into Kat that night.

She hadn’t eased it off him with a gentle caress. No. She had torn it open with wild hunger, frantic touches, and whispered words that floored him, putting his chest and his heart in a seriously precarious position.

Carter couldn’t imagine being without Kat, now that he had her, and the thought of losing her filled him with a dread that was almost suffocating. Disappointment and frustration were nothing compared to the inevitable pain that Kat’s absence would cause. For all his assaholic, aggressive, don’t-give-a-fuck showboating, Carter had left himself wide-open. Kat had crawled into the many spaces within him that he’d thought were lost and barren, and had brought every one of them back to life.

After watching her through the large window at the front of the beach house, he emerged cautiously from the side door. He wandered along the porch toward her. She seemed mesmerized. Carter prayed it was because she was pleased. Shit, but he was nervous. He’d never done anything like this before, and he wanted the weekend to be perfect, a chance for them to reconnect. With a large breath, he jogged over. His chest warmed when she beamed.

He reached up to her aviator shades and pulled them gently from her face. “There’s my girl,” he whispered. “So, what do you think?” he asked with a chin tilt toward the house.

“It’s wonderful,” she answered. “It’s been so long since I’ve been to the beach.”

“I figured.” He scratched his chin and cleared his throat. “I remembered you talking about the beach, about your dad, how you hadn’t been for a really long time, and I thought you’d like it.”

Kat launched herself at him, nearly knocking him off his feet. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and kissed his lips hungrily. Carter wound his arms around her and held her closely, breathing every inch of her in, his entire body burning.

He staggered sideways, stopping only when his hip hit her car. He grunted into her mouth while their tongues were reacquainted and turned in a half circle so he could press her soft body against the car.

Her hands were on his face, gripping and caressing. Carter rubbed up against her like a damn cat. He hadn’t been inside of her since their one night together, and he was about ready to lose his fucking mind. When his hips rotated into hers, she gasped and wrapped her legs around the backs of his thighs, wanting him closer. Carter obliged by grabbing her ass. He’d missed having her so close to him, so responsive. He licked and nibbled until Kat was panting and whimpering his name.

“We have to stop,” she breathed. Her body betrayed her words when she clutched his face, yanking his mouth back to hers.

“Why?” he asked with a quirk of his eyebrow. “There’s no one for a few miles. If I wanted to fuck you right here”—he shifted his hips, making her gasp—“I could.”