Fate and Forever

by Sophie Jackson

  When she finally looked at Carter, her heart softened when she saw a hint of disappointment in his eyes. “Oh.”

  “Yeah.” She played with the edge of his collar. “I saw a doctor yesterday. She thinks that because I didn’t have a break on my Pill while we were on our honeymoon, and then got sick, my period got a little messed up. Nothing to worry about.”

  Carter nodded slowly, a V forming between his eyebrows. “And . . . you’re okay?”

  Kat lifted a shoulder. “Disappointed. Relieved.”

  “I hate that you feel relieved.” Carter sounded wracked.

  “It’s not because of us,” she assured him. “As much as I want children, I want time with you first. I want us to travel, to have lots of special, quiet moments together before all of that.”

  “I want that, too,” he agreed, cupping her face and trailing his thumb across her mouth.

  Kat leaned into his touch. “And the future?”

  Carter breathed deeply, his broad shoulders lifting. “I’m gonna make mistakes. As the past week has proven, that’s guaranteed. All I ask is that you try to have patience with me, and I’ll be there every step of the way with you. Forever.”

  “Babies and all?”

  The left side of his mouth twitched. “Babies and all.”

  chapter seven

  “At fucking last,” Max sighed as he lifted his bottle of Dr Pepper to his lips with a hairy werewolf paw. Motherfucker looked like Teen Wolf on a bad day, with his hairy face and doglike teeth.

  “Shut up,” Carter grumbled, adjusting his brown leather jacket, which he wore with blue jeans and a white T-shirt.

  “What the hell are you?” Riley asked from the sofa, his face bright white, with large black circles around his eyes, a purple velour suit, and a green wig. He made a formidable Joker, despite the beard.

  “Maverick from Top Gun?” Ben asked from behind his Darth Vader helmet.

  “Bonus points to you,” Grace answered as she adjusted her Stetson. “Looks good, Carter.”

  Carter shrugged. It was about as much effort as he could muster. He really wasn’t in the mood for a Halloween party. Despite their positive conversation and his groveling, Kat was still in Chicago. He tried to be understanding, really he did, but it had been a week and he missed her like hell. As a result, he was about as much fun to be around as a premenstrual cactus.

  “Come on, man. Cheer up,” Max encouraged with a shoulder nudge. “You might enjoy yourself.”

  He doubted it. After grabbing his keys, Carter had followed the twelve-strong posse out of his apartment to the waiting cabs on the street below. Tate with his Captain America shield led the way, while Cam and Paul from the body shop brought up the rear as The Blues Brothers. It was surreal, to say the least.

  The walls of the club were almost concave as the beats of the music slammed into them. The partying of witches, whores, murderers, and zombies numbered at least one hundred, but Riley’s connections got the group in before anyone else. Ninety minutes later, Carter was leaning against the bar, wondering how long he’d have to stay and be sociable before he could go home and call his wife. She’d be back in a couple of days, and he couldn’t wait. He just hoped that things wouldn’t be weird when she returned.

  But at least the Jack Daniel’s in his glass was keeping his ass mellow. Max had said he didn’t mind if Carter drank, which filled Carter with profound relief. He needed a buzz.

  Carter looked across the club to see Grace on the dance floor with Abby and her friends, while Max and the other boys watched from the sidelines. The smile on Max’s face warmed Carter through and through, and he chinked his glass to his friend’s water bottle.

  “Everything good?” he asked, to which Max nodded and smiled wider. Yeah, there was no hint of struggle there. His attention was on one thing alone.

  The place was crammed full, yet people gave Carter and his group a good three-foot-wide berth as they walked by. The admiring glances from the women who sashayed past were welcome, but none of them compared to his Peaches.

  The hair wasn’t red enough, eyes weren’t large enough, faces weren’t as beautiful, tits weren’t pert enough, asses weren’t—

  “Fuck. Me.”

  Carter turned his head toward Paul, who’d muttered the two words, and saw him, Tate, and Riley drooling like dogs over two girls who were dancing seductively by one of the VIP booths. And fuck if they weren’t hotter than hell. Carter tried not to look—he really did—but, shit, he was a red-blooded male.

  As music blasted from the speakers, the two girls ground together with the whole hips-pressed-tightly-together dance thing that women knew drove men fucking crazy. They laughed and wiggled their asses, seemingly oblivious to the lascivious looks they were garnering from around the bar. The girl Carter couldn’t take his damn eyes off was curvy like Peaches, but she had long blonde hair that fell in sculpted waves around her face and down her back. She was wearing mirrored aviator shades and deep red lipstick that made her lips look insane.

  Carter instantly felt guilt wind around his throat like a damned noose. But, try as he might, he couldn’t look away from the blonde. She was dressed as a naughty cop, with high fuck-me heels, fishnet tights with garters, and a skirt that barely covered a resplendent ass. The outfit was dark NYPD blue, pulled in at her waist by a large leather belt decorated by two sets of silver handcuffs and a baton. Her tits were magnificent and practically spilling out of the shirt fastened by one small, straining button.

  “Christ,” he muttered into his beer glass as he watched the woman dance and smile, swinging her blonde hair around. Her police hat was tilted coyly to the right and added a mysterious air to her sexiness.

  Riley turned back to Carter and laughed. “Makes you feel glad to be alive, right?”

  Carter’s smile was forced. He was seriously troubled by his body’s reactions. He was a happily married man. What the hell was he doing getting so flustered over another woman? That shit sure as hell wasn’t right. He turned so that he was facing the bar, and ordered another beer and a shot of tequila. As he knocked back the shot with one hand, he fumbled taking his cell out of his jeans pocket with the other. Then he texted with his thumb:

  I miss you.

  He sighed as he pressed Send. He allowed himself a quick glance over his shoulder back at the sexy cop, but she’d disappeared. Thank you, Jesus. He couldn’t imagine being with anyone other than Kat. No one would ever come close to her. Ever. His chest felt strange, almost suffocated, and his jaw tensed with the discomfort and disappointment he felt at his attraction to a woman who wasn’t his wife.

  His cell vibrated in his hand.

  I miss you too. How’s the party?

  I’d be having more fun if you were here.

  Be careful what you wish for. x

  Carter frowned down at his cell, but, before he could respond, his arm was jolted and his cell fell to the bar with a loud smack.

  “Fuck’s sake,” Carter growled, picking it up quickly and checking for any damage. He found none and immediately looked up to see who’d bumped him. His jaw went slack.

  Cop Girl.

  “I am so, so sorry,” she purred with her hands to her buxom chest. “My heel caught on the floor here.” She looked down at the shod foot she was holding up behind herself, inspecting the thin black heel. She might have looked embarrassed, but it was hard to tell with her shades and hair in the way.

  She pointed to his cell phone. “Is it broken?”

  Carter blinked and shook his head, apparently without the gift of speech.

  “Oh, good,” she said quietly. Her accent sounded almost Texan, maybe?

  Carter frowned in confused annoyance, then grunted rudely and turned his back to ignore her.

  But that was damn near impossible when he felt her small hand on his arm. “Can I buy you a drink to make up for my clumsines
s?”

  Carter looked down at the hand that was burning through his shirt and then looked at her face, seeing his pissed-off reflection in her aviators.

  “No thanks,” he said curtly. Couldn’t she see the damned wedding ring on his finger?

  “Please,” she said with a smirk that made her lips look amazing. “I’ve never bought a drink for a pilot before.”

  “I said no thanks,” he insisted.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, placing her hands on her waist and jutting a hip to the left. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

  “Not particularly,” Carter lied with an arrogantly cocked eyebrow. “I just don’t accept drinks from women who aren’t my wife.”

  She laughed lightly and twisted her blonde hair around her finger. “I’m harmless,” she protested.

  “Whatever you say,” Carter replied as he turned away again and sipped his drink, noticing how she’d ignored the “wife” comment.

  “Are these your friends?” she asked brightly as she stepped around him and smiled widely at Tate, Riley, and Paul.

  Before Carter could stop them, his so-called friends had thrust their hands out to introduce themselves.

  “And you are?” Riley asked with a wink.

  “Officer Frisky,” she answered with a coquettish flick of her hair.

  “I just fucking bet you are,” Paul muttered under his breath.

  Carter rolled his eyes and took a huge gulp of his drink.

  “What’s your name?” she asked as she turned to Carter.

  “The name is Not Interested, honey,” Carter muttered as he slammed his glass onto the bar. “I need a piss.”

  Carter strode purposefully across the room, nodding at Abby and the girls as he did. They waved back and blew kisses, making him shake his head in amusement. He was halfway down the corridor toward the bathroom when he felt a hard pinch on his right ass cheek.

  Speechless, he spun around to find Cop Girl smiling up at him.

  He looked around him with arms out wide. “What the hell?” he barked with a scowl.

  “I thought I could help you out in the bathroom,” Cop Girl answered as she nibbled on the tip of her finger.

  “Look.” Carter exhaled in frustration. “I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, but I’m married and I’m not interested.”

  “You’re not?” she asked playfully.

  “No, so go back to your friends and leave me the fuck alone.”

  He turned to go, but her hand found his forearm and squeezed. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

  “No. I don’t.” He looked back to find her leaning provocatively against the wall.

  He was a fucking liar. She was stunning.

  “You look at me like you think I’m pretty.” She smiled. “Those blue eyes tell me you think I’m very pretty . . . even sexy.”

  Carter looked away but didn’t move. She took a step toward him.

  “I think you’re very sexy,” she whispered.

  Carter heard something in her words that made his body tingle. He felt his heart race and his breathing pick up.

  “Where’s your wife?” she asked, fingering the hem of his T-shirt. She smelled incredible; she had a fruit scent that was potentially luscious, and familiar, but was masked by something he couldn’t identify.

  He gripped hold of her small wrist and pushed her back gently. “My wife,” he said, “is in Chicago.” He glanced down her body. “And as good as you look, you don’t even compare to her.”

  Cop Girl’s mouth twitched. “Is that so? Well, that is a shame.”

  “Really?” Carter asked, bored. He released her wrist and shrugged his shoulders. “And why’s that?”

  Cop Girl leaned toward him, holding onto his waist, and whispered into his ear, “Because I was hoping we could go back to my apartment.” She paused and let her tongue flick his earlobe. “And eat peaches.”

  Carter’s eyes widened, and his whole body went still—apart from his heart, which pounded. “Wh—what?”

  No. No fucking way. It couldn’t be. Could it?

  “Peaches,” she repeated, making his eyes roll. Carter was sure he could feel her smiling against his cheek as she brushed her lips along his jaw.

  “Peaches?” he asked in disbelief and hope, allowing his ears to ignore the Texan drawl and instead hear the light husky tones of her voice.

  He was pretty damn certain his heart was about to explode as he allowed his palm to travel gradually up the back of her supple, soft thigh. He just prayed to all that was holy that he was right.

  “Mmm-hmm,” she hummed in his ear, and her body arched against him. Fitting perfectly. “We could have some fun,” she whispered. She pulled Carter closer by fisting the lapels of his shirt and leaning her back against the wall. “I have plenty of snacks.”

  He cupped her sublime ass, smirking when he heard her gasp. “Whatcha got?”

  Carter heard a small, familiar laugh leave her chest as she answered, “Oreos, mainly.”

  Carter lowered his head to the side of her neck and grinned widely against her skin.

  “Jesus, Kat,” he growled as he held her tightly and began placing open-mouthed wet kisses along her neck and up her jawline. “Goddamit,” he moaned while she cupped his face and attacked his mouth with hers.

  Their tongues pushed, sucked, and twisted in ecstatic greeting while their bodies pressed closer still, every inch touching the other, every line, curve, dip, and muscle desperately coming together.

  Carter gasped as he gradually pulled his head back and held hers in his large hands. “It’s you.”

  She laughed and nodded, making the blonde hair move like rays of sunshine. Carter frowned, hoping to hell that she hadn’t bleached her hair blonde. That shit would be a travesty. Gingerly, and still feeling a whole lot discombobulated, Carter lifted his hands from her ass and held the ear rests of the aviator shades covering her eyes between his thumbs and forefingers. He pulled them from her face slowly, holding his breath as he did.

  Little by little, Kat’s beautiful green eyes stared back at him with a mischievous glimmer.

  “There’s my wife,” he whispered, clipping the shades to her shirt.

  He cupped her face and kissed her with everything he had. She tasted and felt so damned good. “You scared the fucking life outta me,” he grumbled against her lips.

  Kat giggled as she pulled him back for more kisses. “Did you want Officer Frisky?”

  Carter swallowed and looked away.

  Kat’s smile faded, no doubt seeing the guilt—no matter how unnecessary—all over him. “Wes,” she murmured, kissing his cheek. “I’m sorry. It was supposed to be a funny surprise. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

  Carter kissed her gently, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. “It was a great surprise.”

  She hummed. “At least now I know that even I can’t tempt you away from me.”

  “Never,” Carter whispered. “Who the hell were you dancing with?”

  “Beth. She picked my outfit.” Christ, Carter hadn’t recognized his cousin’s wife, either. He pushed his nose under the blonde hair and finally picked up the peach scent he’d missed so much.

  “Tell me that this is a wig,” he said into her neck.

  She laughed. “Of course.” She lifted her head and stared at him with heavy-lidded eyes. “You look so hot tonight.”

  Carter let his eyes wander down Kat’s body and blew out a long breath. “Likewise, darlin’.”

  “You like?” she asked coyly.

  “Yes,” he murmured, letting the tips of his fingers play across her chest. “But I’m afraid I’m gonna have to gouge out the eyes of every male in this place before I leave.” Kat laughed. “Including those of my asshole friends.”

  She stared at him, her gaze sof
tening. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” Carter uttered, leaning down to kiss her.

  Her voice was quiet when she spoke again. “Are we gonna be okay?” She wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Carter nodded. “Absolutely. We’re forever, baby. You and me.” He groaned as their lips met harder this time, desperate and sloppy. He pushed her against the wall, paying no mind to the people passing by.

  “Take me home. Please.”

  Fuck—he knew that needy tone.

  “Yes.” He licked at her lips. “Dammit, I want my cock between your tits, and then in your mouth. And then I want to fuck you while you’re wearing those spectacular boots.” He panted. “Whaddaya say, Officer Frisky?”

  She laughed, and ran her hands across his hair. “Sounds perfect.”

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at the next installment in the Pound of Flesh series

  a measure of love

  Coming Summer 2016 from Gallery Books!

  The following day, Riley drove his mom to the hospital and sat for three hours, awkward and uncomfortable in the only chair that occupied his father’s room while his mom perched on the edge of Park’s bed. The tension between the two men was still tangible, but Joan did her utmost to clear it, indirectly making the two of them speak to each other. As ridiculous as it was, it was also kind of exhausting.

  Riley knew he’d disappointed his father when he’d been sent to Arthur Kill after doing a friend a favor and holding a shitload of car parts in his shop, but what more could he do or say? He’d served his time, apologized to everyone he cared about, cleared his debts, and turned himself around. It was a stupid mistake that he’d paid for, but his father’s continuing silence and refusal to speak more than two or three words to him was like a constant bee sting.

  In truth, Riley had hoped that his father’s ill health might kick the old guy’s ass into realizing that life was too damned short to hold grudges, and that he’d decide to clean the slate. But that didn’t look at all likely.