A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1) (19 page)

Something bright flashed within her eyes, but it was gone before Carter could identify it. She flicked her hair over her shoulder and shrugged.

“Not really,” she replied with an unimpressed scrunch of her nose. “Come on. We have work to do.”

A small laugh escaped Carter when she stormed past him into the park. He had to jog a little to catch up with her, but, once he did, he pushed his free hand into his jeans pocket and followed her lead.

“So,” he said as they made their way through the gates and across the cobbled path, “where are we doing this?”

She glanced up at the blue sky and smiled. It was a beautiful day, unseasonably warm. “I thought we’d sit by the boating pond. I know a great spot.”

“Great.”

As was always the case on a warm Saturday, the park was teeming with people and Carter found himself weaving from one side to the other to avoid being pushed or shoved by kids or dogs.

* * *

Kat noticed how out of place among the normal run-of-the-mill New Yorkers and tourists Carter appeared—not for any other reason than the fact that he was so striking in all his tall, tattooed, buzz-cut glory. She couldn’t help notice the admiring glances he got from the other women they walked past.

Kat had secretly been dreading meeting Carter outside of the library. She realized that technically, she wasn’t doing anything wrong by being with him in the park, but deep inside, she knew she was on shaky ground. She hadn’t told Beth, her mom, or Ben about the session, knowing she was bound to get some sort of lecture from one, if not all, of them.

Not that it seemed she’d have the opportunity to speak to Beth, who had been uncharacteristically quiet of late. Since Kat’s birthday, there’d been a couple of text messages but nothing more. Ben, to whom she’d been speaking when Carter had startled her, was also seemingly mystified by Beth’s weird behavior. Something was definitely up.

“You okay over there, Peaches?”

Carter’s voice pulled her back to the park. She looked up to see the top of his nose over his shades bunched into a concerned frown.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she answered. “The spot’s just over there.”

She made her way over to the grass and pressed a hand down to check its dampness.

“Here,” Carter muttered as he laid his jacket down. “You can sit on that.”

“The grass is dry,” Kat insisted.

He shrugged. “Just sit on the damn thing. It won’t kill ya.”

Kat dropped her stuff on the ground. “Thank you.”

Carter dropped down onto the grass, his arm grazing hers. He lit a cigarette leaning back on his elbows, blowing the smoke down his nose. Kat watched him furtively as he looked out across the water, glancing at the children climbing all over the Alice in Wonderland statue situated to their right. He looked devastatingly beautiful.

“I, um … I brought you something.” She reached into her bag.

He raised his eyebrows in expectation. She pulled out her hand to reveal a large pack of Oreos. He grinned and she threw them onto his lap.

“You shouldn’t have.” He chuckled.

She waved him off. “They’re more for me,” she muttered, seeing a questioning expression cross his face. “I know what a grumpy ass you can be without your Oreos, and I don’t need your attitude.” She smiled before delving back into her bag. “And no. I didn’t bring milk.”

Carter sat up, ripping the pack open. “I love these things.”

“I noticed.”

“You want?” he asked, holding the pack out to her while his tongue began doing indecent things to the white cream in the center of a cookie.

She watched, entranced. “Um, no, I’m good.”

Was it even possible to be jealous of a cookie?

She turned from him, grabbing the session resources. She handed Carter his copy, and asked him to refresh her on what they learned about the sexually deviant Donne poem. He didn’t disappoint. It seemed that her gift of calorific cookie beauty had unleashed his garrulous side. She loved listening to him. Hearing his voice, even when he cursed, was like wrapping up in velvet. Much like its owner, it was filled with contradictions. It was soft but firm, loud but quiet, commanding and submissive.

Behind her shades, she closed her eyes and listened. It was a lullaby, easing some place hidden inside of her.

“You like this poem,” she stated when he became quiet.

Carter appeared indifferent. He lay back on the grass, next to where Kat was sitting cross-legged. “I like the metaphors he uses, even if I don’t agree with them.”

Kat waited for him to explain. He breathed deeply, which made his T-shirt rise from the waistband of his jeans, showing a black strip of underwear and a white slice of stomach. She tried not to notice. Really. She did.

“I just don’t buy the whole
Sex is like heaven and I’m surrounded by cherubs while I’m getting off
thing,” he said finally.

Kat shifted on the denim jacket at his words. She had to keep reminding herself that Carter spoke freely when it came to sex.

Carter propped himself up on his forearm. “Sex is just sex. It’s two people wanting the same thing and doing what needs to be done,” he muttered with a shrug. “It’s raw, hard, and, I don’t know, I mean, for me”—he pointed to himself—“When I’m in bed with a woman …”

His words came to a grinding halt. He looked away.

“Carter?”

“What?” he murmured, playing with the grass he was sitting on.

“You were saying?” Kat encouraged with a dip of her head, trying to catch his eye.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t get it, so whatever.” He pulled the grass out with his fist.

* * *

Carter couldn’t believe his mouth had run away with him like that. Speaking to his Peaches about his being with other women was just … weird. He didn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed but more uncomfortable with her knowing. Which, considering his reputation, was fucking absurd. She was bound to assume his sexual record was about as clean as his criminal one, yet he still couldn’t find the words to talk to her about his past sexual exploits.

Regardless of whether she wanted to know or not, he wasn’t about to tell her, just as he was sure as shit not going to ask her about the guys she’d been with. His fists tightened at the mere thought.

“You know,” she said, pulling her hair off her shoulders and pushing it up into a messy bun, “I could kill for a popsicle.”

Carter, who’d been watching her play with her hair, nodded. Talking about sex was doing nothing for his attempts at being a gentleman. His gaze meandered across her body. The curve of her neck as it met her shoulders just ached for his mouth along it. He had no doubt in his mind she would be delicious.

“What can I get you?” She pushed her shades up into her hair.

“I’ll have a popsicle, too.” He reached into his back pocket. “Here.” He pulled out a ten-dollar bill. “Let me get it.”

She looked at the money and raised an eyebrow. “Why do you have to pay?”

Carter smiled. “Because I want to. Now get off your feminist high horse and take the fucking money. I owe you for the Oreos anyway.”

With a small smile, Peaches took the bill. “Fine. What flavor do you want?”

Carter reached for his shades and pulled them down his nose, leaning toward her. He stared right at her and whispered, “Peach.”

Once purchased, and with her own raspberry ice, she sank back onto the grass next to Carter, who was lounging on his back. They were silent as they enjoyed the blue sky, the warm breeze, and the cold flavored ice.

“This is nice,” she murmured after a moment.

Carter didn’t reply but licked the remaining juice off the wooden stick in his hand.

She sighed. “I used to come and sit here with my mom and dad when we stayed in New York. We’d play hide and seek and he would always pretend he couldn’t find me, even when I knew he could see me.” Peaches closed her eyes. “He liked sitting here,” she continued. “He liked it in the fall. The leaves would surround us and we’d just sit here.”

“My dad and I would play here, too,” he offered. Her eyes snapped open, clearly surprised at his divulging personal information.

Avoiding her gaze, Carter trailed his finger slowly along the strands of her chestnut-red hair lying on the grass. “We’d play by the pond before we would start on the statue.” He gestured with a tip of his head in the direction of the bronze structure covered in small children. He kept his eyes on his finger. “And my mom would …” He exhaled. “My mom would come and take me. It was a passing-off point. Neutral ground for them.”

After an age of silence, he heard her sigh. “Maybe we saw each other. It’s a small world, after all.” She looked straight at him. “Sometimes I feel like we’ve known each other longer than we have. Weird, right?”

He sat up again quickly, pulling out a cigarette. “Yeah,” he managed. “Really weird.”

Peaches followed his position and pulled the bag and her knees closer. “So, I have a question for you,” she said, rummaging in her bag.

Carter blew out his smoke, staring despondently at the ground between his bent knees.

“Which one do you want?”

He frowned when he saw her holding two books in each hand. He coughed a laugh. “I don’t have a fucking clue. Why?”

Peaches gave him a pointed look. “We have to study a text, and I wanted your input. Choose one.”

“I haven’t read any of them,” he confessed. “I know the basics of this one, but other than that I’m at a loss.”

“Well, I love this story,” she said, pointing to the book to Carter’s right, the one that he knew the basics of. “I haven’t read it for a very long time, but it always stayed with me.”

He picked it up and read the blurb, his cigarette dangling from his lips. “
A Farewell to Arms
by Ernest Hemingway.”

“It’s a really wonderful story,” Peaches added. “But I have to warn you, apart from the descriptions of war, it’s essentially a tragic love story.”

Carter flicked through the pages. “Yeah, I know that,” he grumbled. “I’m sure I’ll live.”

She pulled out a pad and pen and made some notes. “Do you want to take it home and read it? I can assign you maybe two chapters that we’ll discuss next session?” She huffed. “What’s that face for? We have to do this, Carter. I’m not asking you because I’m being a bitch.”

“I know that.” He tapped the book against his knee. “I just thought I was past being given homework.”

She smiled. “We’ll talk about the chapters next session and then we’ll read some more together.”

“Fine,” he muttered with a wave of his hand. “Whatever.”

“You say that a lot,” she retorted with a smirk. “Maybe we need to work on your vocabulary as well.”

Carter stared. “Are you fucking around with me?” he asked, narrowing his eyes playfully.

She giggled and he poked a finger into her ribs. She squeaked loudly, surprising them both.

“Peaches,” Carter whispered devilishly. “Are you ticklish?” He glanced down her body, silently calculating how many places he could touch to make her squeak some more.

She adjusted her top, flustered, and picked up her resources to put back into her bag. “Not at all.”

“Oh,” he retorted dryly. “Well, that’s good, because I would hate to do this”—he poked her again, causing her to shriek—“and make you squeal like a girl.”

“I
am
a girl,” she snapped, pushing her stuff into her bag.

Carter laughed and handed her the remaining papers. “You know what I mean.” He poked again.

“Quit it!” Peaches said in a high-pitched voice, slapping his hand away. “You’re so childish!”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Carter replied. He stood up and brushed off the grass attached to his ass.

With his helmet in his hand and his jacket over his arm, Carter set off at a slow walk along the edge of the boating pond. It was late afternoon and the park was a bustle of people, running, walking, and playing. Peaches caught Carter looking down at her. She blushed and smiled. He pushed his hand into his pocket as the urge to do something shook his body once more. He thought back to the conversation he’d had with Jack and cursed himself. He was a damned fool if he thought he was going to be able to maintain the friendly, flirty relationship he’d built up with her.

He’d thought about kissing her, and now he wanted to … what? Hold her? Yeah, he wanted to hold her, and, fuck, he didn’t hold women. That was too intimate, but dammit if she wouldn’t fit perfectly under his arm.

“So,” he croaked. “This wasn’t so bad, right?”

“No,” she replied. “It was very pleasant, Mr. Carter. You continue to amaze me with your literary intellect.”

He glanced away. “It helps having a great teacher, you know.”

“Th-thank you,” she stammered. “But if you’re trying to butter me up to get more Oreos, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

* * *

Kat laughed uneasily, brushing off his praise by speeding up her steps. His hand gripping the crook of her elbow stopped her. She glanced up in question when he pulled his shades from his face. When she saw his eyes, she stopped breathing altogether. His eyes were the brightest blue she’d ever seen and they seemed to look deep into her, caressing the parts of her that were aching.

“Carter?” she whispered when he took a step toward her. Standing so close to him, Kat felt very small.

“Peaches.” His gaze wandered around her face. “I didn’t say it to— I meant it. I think you’re …”

Kat’s heart thumped wildly. His touch on her arm was so comforting she daren’t ask him to remove it, and when his eyes stayed on her mouth, she felt it between her legs. She instinctively wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. No man had ever looked at Kat the way that Carter did.

“Carter,” she said again, placing her hand on top of his. “Are you okay?”

He was still staring at her in a way that made her back arch and her nipples tighten. His mouth continuously opened and closed as though he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. Eventually he dropped his head with a muttered curse and looked out toward the path.

His back snapped straight. “Shit,” he hissed. He grabbed her forearm and pulled her back in the direction they’d come.

“Carter!” Kat protested as he dragged her around a corner and pushed her backward against a tree, dropping his helmet and jacket at her feet.