A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1) (36 page)

They kissed again tenderly but with a promised passion. “Why don’t you go upstairs, get changed into something really warm so you don’t get hypothermia or some shit, and I’ll start on dinner.”

Strangely, she neither argued nor questioned him. “Third door on the right,” he said. “I put your suitcase at the end of the bed.”

“Thank you,” she said before she disappeared up the stairs.

* * *

“What else?”

Kat chewed her lip as she thought. “Anchovies and olives.” She made an “ick” face. “And lemons. I hate any lemon food—lemon cakes, lemon dressing.” She grimaced and shivered.

“You drink Sprite,” Carter pointed out through a cloud of smoke.

“That’s different,” Kat countered with a tone that closed the conversation.

Carter rolled his eyes.

“What do you hate?” she asked.

“Tomatoes,” he answered swiftly, “anchovies, pineapple, any fish except shellfish, and macaroni and cheese.”

“Macaroni and cheese?” Kat laughed. “What is wrong with you?”

Carter frowned. “I hate the fucking stuff.”

“Okay,” Kat conceded. “Favorite food?”

“Peaches.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m serious,” he offered. “Peaches and Oreos.” He grinned. “Favorite movie?”

“I can’t pick just one.”

“Fine, two.”

“
The Goonies
and
Forrest Gump
. You.”

“
Beetlejuice
and
Pulp Fiction
,” Carter replied as he put his smoke out. “Favorite album?”

“
Rubber Soul
and
Revolver
by the Beatles. It’s always been one album for me.” She gestured for him to answer.

“Same,” he smirked. “That and
The White Album
, tied.”

They’d been at the question game for over an hour. Kat watched from her seat on the back porch, wrapped in a large wool blanket, snuggled and warm, while Carter cooked their dinner on the grill and answered every question she threw at him. The smell of shellfish encircled her in the fresh wind, mixing with the scent of the sea and Carter’s cigarette smoke.

As well as looking unbelievably sexy in a large, black knitted sweater and dark jeans, Kat couldn’t believe how calm he seemed. He looked like he belonged, settled and free, as though the weight he carried around with him in the city had been swept away by the waves crashing against the shore not one hundred yards away.

“You look peaceful here.”

Carter finished his beer. “That’s pretty much how I feel. There’s something about the coast. It makes me feel different.”

“Better different?”

“Yeah.” His eyes glimmered, soft and gentle. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

The food was incredible. Kat told him repeatedly about how good it was, and, in return, Carter made salacious comments about how he’d heard those kinds of words from her before. Kat had convinced herself that playful Carter would be difficult to adjust to; she was so used to brooding, serious, cursing, huffy Carter—and she loved him dearly—that cute and cuddly Carter sounded ridiculous. Kat realized that, in this case, she loved being wrong. His honesty and smile came easier the more they talked, pulling Kat deeper and deeper into the arms of emotions that no longer frightened her. She only worried whether they would frighten him.

After they washed up, during which Carter let his hands rub all over Kat’s ass, he led her down the porch onto the beach. It was dark, but small twinkling lights placed on either side of the walkway, and Carter’s flashlight, showed the way.

While Kat placed the beer and the bag he’d given her to carry to the side, and took a seat on the cool sand, Carter went about starting a fire in the pit filled with driftwood and logs with a can of lighter fluid, a match, and much enthusiasm. Kat doubled over laughing when she saw his ecstatic expression once he got the damn thing ablaze.

“Me. Man. Build fire for woman,” he boomed, pounding his chest and gesturing proudly to the pit.

Kat called him an utter loser, which encouraged Carter to attack her ribs mercilessly with his long, nimble fingers. He growled into her neck while he tickled her, and laughed when she tried to tickle him back. It was loud—a true belly laugh that came from deep inside of him.

It was wonderful.

Carter shuffled so his back was against a conveniently placed rock and pulled Kat between his legs, keeping the blanket around them both. He pulled two beers and a pack of marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate from a bag. She stared wide-eyed at the bag in his hand.

“You brought marshmallows?” she exclaimed.

Carter deadpanned: “Um, we have an open flame going on here, Peaches. Of course I brought marshmallows. We have to eat s’mores on the beach.” He scoffed. “It’s the law.”

They ate at least three each before Kat called mercy and collapsed against Carter. “I’m so full. You always make me eat too much. I’m gonna get really fat.”

Carter clicked his tongue next to her ear. “What bullshit.” His hands moved under her layers of clothes and gripped her sides. “You’re fucking perfect. I love the way you feel. Besides, I’ll help you work it off later.”

“I’m sure,” Kat shot back and giggled when she heard him groan. “First, tell me more about the house and your time with your grandma.” He handed her another beer. She was on her fourth now, and she needed to slow down. If Carter’s aim was to get her drunk and have his way with her, then he wasn’t far from achieving it. “Tell me about your friends, girlfriends … tell me everything.”

Carter laughed. They continued to watch the flames lick and dance in the moonlight. The wind had died down now and the sky had cleared, dropping the temperature so that their breath was visible. Kat couldn’t feel the cold, though, wrapped in her blissful bubble.

“Okay.” Carter rubbed his hands across her stomach. “Well, my main group of friends work with me at the shop.”

“Max’s shop? Tell me about Max. How long have you known each other?”

Carter smiled. “Nearly twenty years.”

“Is he a good friend to you?”

“Yeah, he is. He laughed his ass off when I told him I was bringing you here.” He looked troubled, almost sad.

With a friendship of two decades, it was obvious there was more to their story, but Kat decided not to push. Like peeling the layers of an onion, he revealed himself to her a little bit at a time. He couldn’t be rushed. He would tell her when he was ready. She had to trust that.

“I’ve never had a girlfriend,” he continued. “I was never with girls long enough to warrant a label like that. This may be hard to believe, but I was a complete asshole with girls when I was a kid.” His self-ridicule was adorable.

“No way.”

“Way.” The playfulness ebbed from his face as he held her close. His words were low and serious in her ear. “I want you to know something.” He took a deep breath. “I won’t ever be that way with you. I promise. You deserve more than that. I’m far from perfect, but I swear I’ll do my best.”

Kat relaxed into his chest. “Do you know what a good person you are, Carter?”

Carter let his nose touch the tip of hers. “I’m not a good person, Kat—”

“Bullshit.” She turned in his arms.

Before he could argue, Kat pressed on. “You saved my life.” She traced his lips with the tips of her fingers. “Don’t ever tell me you’re not good.”

* * *

Carter’s grip tightened. She was so warm and soft. “You feel incredible.” He kissed down her neck to her collarbone, licking at her delicate skin. “You taste so good. You smell so good.” Kat gasped his name. “Tell me I can be inside of you tonight.”

Wordlessly, she moved her hand and grabbed him through his jeans. He groaned and bit down on her earlobe. She rubbed him firmly, drawing gasps of want from his chest, damn near making him come in six perfect strokes. Abruptly, Kat moved until she was on her knees between Carter’s legs, leaving him hard and achy with the small distance between them. Carter pouted at the same time she scrambled to her feet. She grabbed their trash and blanket and, with the sound of her laughter bounding across the sand dunes, ran ahead of him into the house.

She wanted him to chase her? Game. On.

Leaving the fire in the pit to die down itself, Carter grabbed what trash and beer was left and, as best as he could with a hard-on, sprinted after her, making it to the back door as the wind slammed it shut. Opening it with a grumble and dropping everything to the floor, he motored through the house, grinning at every piece of Kat’s crumpled clothing he passed.

Her hat, her boots, her socks, her scarf, her sweater … her bra.

She squealed when his heavy feet thundered up the stairs at the back of her, but all Carter could see was a flash of chestnut-red hair as she flew to the bedroom.

Dammit, she was quick.

Kicking open the bedroom door and making Kat scream in excited panic, he managed to grab hold of her arm, pulling her bare back against his chest. She gasped for air, but the moans came thick and fast when Carter’s mouth latched hungrily on to her shoulder. She reached up and pulled at his neck, grabbing for him and begging for any part of him to be in her.

“You’re gonna pay for that, my Peaches.”

Carter twirled her and knotted his fingers into her hair, smothering her mouth with his, and, in three large strides, he backed her into the bedroom wall. The air left them both when they came to a dead stop. Her hands were everywhere. She grappled with his button fly and wrapped her perfect, warm hand around his cock as soon as it was free. He released her mouth and let his head loll back. He cried out when her thumb ran over the wet tip, sucking in a long breath through his teeth.

“Not if I make you pay first,” she purred, licking her lips and dropping slowly to her knees.

Carter swallowed as her tongue flicked against him. “Oh fuck.”

That’s my girl.

The wind was fresh and the sky was blue the following afternoon as Carter and Kat rode Kala through Westhampton. Once again, he’d kept her in the dark about where he was taking her, loving the way she grumbled about not knowing every detail. Apparently, Kat Lane didn’t like surprises. She’d changed her outfit three times just to prove a point, slowly driving him mad. It was a good thing she was cute as hell, or he’d have had to spank the sass right out of her. He’d told her as much, causing her to laugh beautifully and kiss him so hard he was rendered mute.

They rode for nearly an hour before Carter began to see other bikes ahead of them, heading in the same direction.

Slowing down so he could turn onto a large stone road, Carter smiled when the thick scent of diesel hit his nose and the sound of heavy rock music echoed around them. Amid large marquees and smaller stalls lay row upon row of muscle cars as far as the eye could see and, next to those, were the Harleys, Triumphs, Yamahas, Ducatis, and any other erection-causing piece of two-wheeled metal Carter could think of.

He pulled to a stop next to a glorious yellow ’69 Corvette and switched off the engine. He unfastened his helmet and pulled it off. Kat shifted at the back of him. He turned to look at her. She was adorable, with pink cheeks and sleepy eyes.

He caressed the apple of her cheek with his thumb. “You fall asleep on me again?”

She hummed and removed her helmet. “It’s so relaxing, just holding you while we ride. It’s great.”

Her words melted into secret, silent parts of him.

Kat glanced around. “What is this place?”

Carter stood from the bike, pulling his leg over carefully, and stretched. “This is heaven.” He held out his hand to help Kat up, and placed both of their helmets in the detachable holder on the back of Kala’s seat. “A gear head’s mecca.”

“Those cars are beautiful,” Kat murmured, gazing down the line of Mustangs and GTs.

Carter pushed his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. “Max and I used to come here when we were kids with his dad. I wanted to show you where my love for all this grew.”

Kat took a small step toward him. “Then show me.”

They walked and talked, and explored the cars and the crazy people around them. Carter pointed out his favorite cars and bikes, explaining their model, torque, and horsepower like a kid in a candy store, drooling over a rare Vincent Black Knight.

“What are the stalls and marquees for?” Kat asked as they meandered past a hot Ford Torino.

“The bigger ones belong to the car dealers and specialists: GT, Harley, and GMC. They sell parts cheaper than in the stores. They use it for promotion and to hire mechanics, things like that.” He gave her a smug sideways glance. “Riley used to have his own marquee here, you know.”

“Really?”

Carter answered with a squeeze of her hand. “He’s a crazy motherfucker, but he’s a shrewd businessman. He’d never gloat about it, either. He got me some amazing deals on parts and helped me with my other bikes and stuff.”

He pulled her toward the rest of the stalls. He smiled when, after walking for ten minutes, she stopped at the opening of one specific tent Carter knew well. Kat remained quiet while they stood watching a young blonde girl have a tattoo inked across her right hip. It was a Big Dog Motorcycles stamp, and Carter had to admit it was sexy as hell.

“You thinking about getting one?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around her. She made a kind of coughing sound and shook her head under his chin. He laughed. “Shame. I think you’d look fucking amazing with some ink on this gorgeous body.” He rubbed himself against her ass.

“Don’t they hurt?” she asked, taking a couple of steps closer with Carter still attached to her like a damned limpet.

“Nah. Of course, it depends where on your body you get it, but really it’s more of a discomfort than a pain.”

“Where did yours hurt most?”

“Under my bicep.” That one had smarted. The ones on his chest had been sore, too, but Kat didn’t need to know that. No fucker with a needle was going anywhere near her tits.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, grinning when she slid her palm into the back pocket of his jeans and led her back into the crowd toward the food and beer tent. Petey, a guy Carter had known his whole metal-loving life, stood at the humongous grill, serving chicken legs, steaks, burgers, ribs, sausages, lamb chops, and chili that he ladled out of a giant pan. He was a huge mammoth of a man with tattoos and a bald head, which he always wrapped in a red bandanna.