Carter

  Carter waited, his heart pounding. His pulse beat through the cut on his arm, and while it wasn’t deep, it frigging hurt.

  Grace, very slowly, moved away from him. Carter’s hope splintered with a smashing blow. He felt like the thug he’d walloped in the middle with the crowbar.

  More breath went out of him when Grace closed the bedroom door, with her on the same side of it as Carter.

  “Carter,” she whispered. Her face was pink, her hands trembling as she lifted them to him. “You can hold on to me.”

  Chapter Seven

  Grace held her breath as Carter gazed down at her, his hazel eyes golden in the afternoon sunlight.

  His scarred, work-worn hands came up and slowly closed around hers.

  The connection jolted her, something electric streaking down her body and out to the floor. But she was still here, and whole, with Carter lacing his fingers through hers.

  The roughness of his palms shook her even more. Grace had never been with a man as basic, who worked untiringly for everything. She’d only ever dated soft-handed men, who’d had everything given to them from babyhood.

  Carter drew a breath, shuddering with it. He firmed his grip, his fingers immensely strong, and dragged Grace closer to him.

  The heat of him flooded through her thin clothes, Carter damp and scented with soap. He had a bandage on his cheek, the plastic strip incongruent on his granite-hard face.

  He wasn’t a pretty man—he’d been beaten up and broken more than once, leaving scars on his skin. But he’d stared life down with his unyielding eyes and bested it.

  Grace lifted herself to him. When he’d kissed her in the kitchen, her world had rocketed around and dumped her on her ass, and she hadn’t quite yet recovered.

  Carter had always been forbidden—Grace had watched him longingly in their school days, knowing she wasn’t allowed near a bad boy like that. His background had made no one in Riverbend trust him. He’d grown into a man raising an illegitimate child on his own, and he’d won the town’s trust inch by slow inch. But even so, they still gave him a wary eye.

  And now Grace was standing against his bare body.

  She unlaced her hands from his and rested her fingers on his chest. She found hard male flesh, warm and sleek from his shower, so firm her touch couldn’t make an indent.

  Carter looked down at her, eyes gleaming gold, water beading on his lashes. Grace daringly moved her hands across his chest, sucking in a breath when she met the firmness of his flat nipples.

  Carter jumped and grabbed her wrists. Grace was about to babble an apology when Carter jerked her against him and covered her mouth in a hard kiss.

  Grace couldn’t breathe. Carter’s lips were commanding, his mouth strong. He didn’t kiss like the seductive men who’d tried to charm Grace into bed in the past. He demanded, he took. He didn’t ask politely.

  Grace’s head went back under the onslaught, and she braced herself with her hands on his shoulders. Carter released her wrists and wrapped his arms around her, his mouth opening hers without mercy. Grace swayed, nearly losing her balance, but Carter held her steady.

  She felt every part of him, every muscle and bone. Carter had no softness in him anywhere. A part of him that was especially hard pressed the towel, showing her he had more than kissing in mind.

  Carter pulled back without loosening his hold. He gazed down at her with eyes like flint. “I should let you go.”

  “Go do what?” Grace asked, blinking. “More cooking? I like it, but I don’t want to be a slave to the kitchen.”

  She suddenly imagined him coming into her kitchen in the towel, slowly untying her apron and drawing it off her, then wrapping the strings of it around her wrists. He’d hook the apron to the handle of the oven, or to one of the chairs at the table, while he bent over her and took her mouth in a slow, searing kiss.

  Grace dissolved into heat. Damn, she really shouldn’t think of things like that.

  But with Carter, it was hard not to think of it. He was a walking wet dream.

  Carter growled, his hands tightening on her back. “You’re sweetness and light, and I’m from the wrong side of town. You should run away from me.”

  So everyone had told her. Keep away from that one. The Campbell brothers are all right, in spite of their wild ways—they’re good family. That Carter—well, he’s not like us.

  Good. Grace was tired of men who expected her to be a pushover because she was the kind of girl men married—they’d never dream of having sexy fun with Grace Malory. Oh, no.

  “I can be bad,” Grace said. “Trust me.”

  Carter’s low laugh took her by surprise. He so rarely laughed. “You don’t know how, sweetheart. Bad’s not something you do. It’s how you’re born.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Grace stepped back, breaking his embrace. She sent him an impish look, grabbed the towel, and yanked it from his hips.

  Carter made a desperate lunge for the towel, but Grace backed rapidly away, waving it in triumph. “Ha. What do you say to that?”

  Carter came at her, and Grace’s laughter evaporated. Not because she’d made him mad, but because she could see all of him.

  He was erect, sunlight through the windows burnishing his long shaft, its wide tip, and touching the curls at the base.

  Grace wasn’t a virgin, but she could count on her first two fingers the number of men she’d been with. Those encounters had been in the dark, in bed, the door locked, the curtains drawn. Almost decorous.

  She’d never stood and appreciated a man fully naked in daylight, strong, tall, hard, and wanting.

  Carter’s gaze was fierce, his grip when he stepped to her fiercer still. “Don’t look at me like that, Grace.”

  “Like I’m enjoying what I see? You’re hot, Carter. We’re alone, and I’m going to look my fill.”

  Carter released her to cup her face in his hands. “You make me want to do bad things.”

  Grace wet her lips. “Does it look like I mind?”

  Carter hesitated a long moment, then he skimmed his fingers down to her back. She felt them shaking.

  The next thing she knew, her top was loosening, Carter finding buttons in the back. His thick fingers made short work of them, brushing her bare skin as he undid them. Next he fumbled at her bra, which opened.

  Grace couldn’t help her rush of breath as the elastic released her. Carter caught the bra’s straps in his big hands and pulled them over her shoulders and down her arms with her shirt. The top and bra landed on the floor, and Carter caught the weight of her breasts in his hands.

  “You’re beautiful, Grace,” he said, his voice low. “I’ve always known you’d be beautiful.”

  Grace tried to think of something witty to say. She couldn’t. Carter had his fingers on her breasts, his thumbs stroking her nipples, bringing her to life. Grace let out a faint groan.

  “So soft,” he whispered. “My sweet Grace.”

  Carter, in contrast, was hard. Grace slid her hands to his shoulders then down his back, her hunger growing. His skin was smooth, satin over steel, its color liquid bronze, except where laced by the sharp-edged tatts. The red streak on his arm marred him, like the bandage on his cheek, but not by much. The beauty of him overwhelmed even those small reminders of his violent past.

  She’d noted that he was much paler where his underwear would be—he spent a lot of time in the sun, but not naked. His arms were dark like copper, his chest and thighs slightly less tanned, though not by much.

  Carter lifted her breasts, leaned down, and kissed her neck.

  “Mmm.” Grace closed her eyes. She popped them open again when Carter nipped her.

  “Oh, yeah?” she said, or thought she said.

  Grace came forward, closed her teeth over the skin at Carter’s collarbone, and suckled him.

  ***

  Carter jumped like he’d been shot. Damn. Grace’s tongue and teeth pulled, the little pain spiking the need already burning him.

  “Grace. You little shi
t.”

  She raised her head, eyes sparkling. “That’s what you get for thinking I can’t be bad.”

  Carter lifted his hands from the enticement of her bosom to hold on to her wrists. “Sweetie, you don’t know what bad is. But you’re about to find out.”

  He pulled her off her feet, swept her up in his arms, and dropped her on the yielding bed. Grace landed, smile wide, face eager. She kept on smiling, even when Carter yanked open her jeans shorts and dragged them down her legs.

  She wore pink satin underwear—with lace and a bow. Debutante all the way down.

  Carter hooked his fingers around the panties and drew them off.

  There. Grace was bare, on his bed. She was a picture, her dark hair coming down and spreading across his pillow. Her eyes were soft green, sunlight brushing her skin and the dark curls between her legs.

  She tucked one arm behind her head, her hand splayed next to her, her gaze fast on his. An artist might have posed her for a painting—and then Carter would have to break his arms for wanting to paint her like that.

  “You’re the prettiest thing I ever did see.” Shit, what a total cliché thing to say.

  Grace didn’t seem to mind. Her smile went away, but her eyes were warm. “Carter.”

  Nothing more, but Carter tightened. “With you saying my name, all sexy like that, you know I can’t walk out of here.”

  “I hope not. If anyone’s home, you’ll scare the hell out of them, running naked into the living room.”

  Carter rested his weight on his fists on the bed. “You’re supposed to be scared of me.”

  For answer, Grace reached up and touched his lips.

  “Hell.”

  Carter couldn’t stay away from her. He got up on the bed with her, but he made himself not simply fall down on her and shove himself inside.

  “You were hurt,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you more.”

  “It’s been a while.” Grace’s hand moved automatically to the scar on her left side, the thick indentation where the bullet had been.

  Carter’s heart constricted as he gently moved her hand and touched the wound himself. His fingers found the knot in her skin, the familiar thickness of a healed bullet wound. He had two of himself, one in his calf, the other on the side of his hip.

  He took her hand, kissed her palm, and pressed it to the scar on his hipbone. Grace’s eyes widened.

  “What happened?”

  “Old enemies,” Carter said. “It was a long time ago.”

  Grace traced the circle of the wound, her fingertips sending fire through his blood.

  “So you’ll know that I’m fine,” she said softly. “Please, Carter.”

  Carter pulled her up, kissing her fine mouth, nipping the corner of it. Grace lifted to him, her kiss growing desperate, wanting him as much as he wanted her.

  Wanted her? Carter was dying for her. Not just for sex, but for her, Grace. For the way she wrinkled her nose, the way she’d have flour on her face and not care. For the way she loved Faith, and the way she looked at Carter without fear.

  “Most women are afraid of me.” Carter had no idea why the words came out of his mouth—they just did.

  “Foolish women,” Grace whispered, her breath touching his lips. “Why are they?”

  “I dunno. They think I’m gonna eat them, or something.”

  Which sounded like a good idea. Carter cupped Grace’s breast, leaned to her, and bit her neck.

  Grace made a tiny yelping sound, then said breathlessly, “You know, I don’t think I’d mind.”

  Carter didn’t answer. His heart pounded, his cock moving with every pulse, her scent making him crazy. She was cinnamon and wanting, ready for him.

  Carter licked his way to her breasts, took a nipple into his mouth. Grace made a raw noise, and Carter curled his tongue around her, nipping, suckling.

  He did that until she was moving against him, little noises of pleasure coming from her mouth. Carter finished and took the other breast, giving it identical attention.

  Next, her abdomen. He slowly laid her back down as he licked her skin, pressed kisses to her soft, rounded belly. He’d heard her going on with Bailey and Christina that she needed to do more crunches to firm her middle, but to Carter, she was perfect.

  The indentation of her navel beckoned his tongue, then he lowered his head to kiss the damp curls between her legs.

  “Carter.” Grace put her hands down to him, but not to push him away. She cupped him to her, wanting his breath, his lips.

  “You’re beautiful here too,” he whispered, blowing gently on her. “I’m going to taste you now. I can’t have you here and not taste you.”

  “Yes.” Her voice was shaking, the word barely formed.

  Carter lowered himself all the way, kissed the center swirl of curls, ran his tongue along her opening, then thrust it inside her.

  Chapter Eight

  Grace let out a cry that turned to a near wail. She clutched the sheet as her back came off the mattress, her body tightening in surprise and delight.

  She’d never done this before, the thought struck Carter. For all Grace’s claim to be bad in her own way, she’d never had a man go down on her.

  I’m the first, Carter’s thoughts blazed. The triumph of that beat through him.

  “You taste good, Grace. Better than your cupcakes.”

  “How can that be?” Grace answered, voice fluttering.

  Carter chuckled, letting his breath brush her curls. “You’re wet.” He kissed her. “That’s my sweetheart. The wetter the better.”

  She murmured again. She likely didn’t understand, but she would. Carter returned his mouth to her, closed it over her opening, and enjoyed her.

  Grace lifted from the bed. Her body flashed heat, the gyrations she made telling him she was about to come. Already. And he’d barely started.

  When she did come, it was beautiful. Carter had never been with a woman who so wholly let herself feel. Grace didn’t try to stop herself, to make this into something it wasn’t, didn’t do it to please him.

  She reached deep inside herself to her true needs, and set them free.

  “Carter.” The word was choked as Grace lifted her hips, her head moving, her body shuddering, one leg bending to open herself further to him.

  Carter continued, moving his mouth with her, giving as he felt she liked it, easing back when she lost herself entirely.

  He held her steady as her climax took her, one hand pressed to where he’d licked. Grace cried out, then suddenly dropped back onto the bed and dragged in a long breath.

  “Holy shit,” she said, opening her eyes wide. “Carter—what did you do to me?”

  “Loved you, honey.” Carter got himself up on her, lying full length. “Getting you ready for me.”

  “Ready … There’s going to be more?”

  Carter wanted to laugh. “So much more, sweetheart. Let me touch you.”

  He trailed off, his hands soothing her. He kissed her damp lips, and Grace pulled him in to kiss him back, no matter what he’d just been doing.

  Carter kissed and caressed, hands finding her warm nipples, her belly. He was aching for her, his hunger needing the satiation he’d just given her.

  “Please,” Grace said, drawing him to her. “Please, yes.”

  Carter slid his hand between her legs, stroking there until she was rocking again. Then he positioned his tip in her moist heat and pushed inside.

  ***

  Grace thought she’d die. She had Carter sliding full-length inside her. Her dreams had just come true.

  Carter stopped when he was all the way in, his hazel eyes fixing on her. “You all right?”

  Was she all right?

  Damn, she’d never been this good in her life. Grace tried to tell him that, but the only thing that came out was, “Uh-huh.”

  Carter gave her the ghost of a smile, then he withdrew part of the way and thrust inside again.

  “Oh,” she said, then, “Ohhh.”
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  Carter moving inside her, right after that fabulous orgasm, pushed Grace beyond what she’d ever felt in her life. If she’d known being with Carter was this good, she’d have grabbed him and dragged him off a long time ago.

  Carter’s face creased into a frown, one of intense focus. He was looking at her, nothing else. Only the two of them existed in the world, in this time, in this sunny room. Troubles poured away as need bound them, the friction of Carter inside her erotic and exciting.

  She touched his face, tying to smooth the lines on it. Carter’s gaze became even more intense.

  “Stop.”

  “What?” Grace drew her hand back. She could barely speak, the hardness of Carter inside her blurring her thoughts.

  “Stop being so damn nice.”

  Grace touched his face again. “Not in my nature to be mean.”

  Carter growled, the sound coming from deep inside his chest. He said, “Ah, damn it,” and began to thrust. Hard, harder.

  His legs parted hers; Grace drew one foot up his calf to his thigh. Carter groaned her name, his hips moving, his hands balled to fists as he held himself from crushing her.

  They could no longer speak, or kiss, or do anything but hold on. Carter drove himself into Grace, her hips lifting as they met.

  Not long later, they were both moaning, crying out, Carter’s baritone mingling with her higher tones.

  This was madness, and it was joy. Grace wound into a point she’d never reached before, where all was heat, feeling, need. She wrapped her arms around the man she’d loved for so long, hanging on to this moment when she became one with him.

  It couldn’t last forever. Carter let out a shout as he came, and Grace’s cry met his.

  Her eyes were wet as they collapsed together, bodies damp, legs entwined. Grace laughed, but she wanted to weep, as the beautiful moment died. Carter gathered her into his arms, and kissed her.

  ***

  Sunshine came through the window, coating the room with heat, never mind that it was November. The overhead fan blew cool air across Carter’s body, but when it got sticky in Hill Country, not much could cut the humidity.