A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(108)

Carter pulled her up and cupped her cheeks in his hands.

“Just you and me,” he repeated in a soft whisper. His eyes roamed across her face while his fingers stroked a piece of her hair. “For one day. Let’s just forget all of the bullshit, and be you and me.”

Kat looked up into Carter’s open face and saw everything she’d ever wanted or desired.

I want you.

I want to be with you.

I need you so much.

I think I love you.

Closing her eyes at the warmth of that realization, Kat pressed her cheeks into Carter’s palms and smiled. “You and me.”





21


Carter had no idea where he wanted to take Peaches, but she seemed fine with that, which was a huge relief. Carter had no idea what a romantic or intimate gesture was, he just wanted to put the smile back on her face. He would have to make it up as he went along and pray that whatever he thought was cool and perfect would be perfect for her, too.

Carter drove for miles, flying over the Brooklyn Bridge next to a hot Porsche that tried to overtake his ass. Carter pulled back his right hand and blasted Kala past the bastard. He smiled when Peaches laughed behind him.

They drove to East New York, through Cypress Hills, cruising by the park and along Broadway, all the way back to Manhattan. It was the first time Carter had truly stretched Kala’s legs since he’d been out of lockup, and it was awesome. He lost himself in having Peaches behind him, around him, particularly as the wind whipped at them when they crossed the water, back to the island. They couldn’t talk, but Carter knew that was probably what she wanted, although he’d laughed loudly when she’d squealed and giggled into his back as he’d revved Kala hard down Forty-seventh, shooting them through traffic like a bullet.

He could feel her hands through his jacket and—on two occasions—he placed a hand over them, stroking and squeezing. He wanted to reassure her, make sure she was okay, and, each time he had, she’d clutched his fingers back in response.

It was almost six in the evening when Carter pulled up on Fifth Avenue, next to Central Park. It’d started to rain a little, but it didn’t seem to matter. If it meant there would be fewer people around, then Carter was all for it. He sat for a moment with Peaches still clinging to him, listening to Kala’s engine tick as it began to cool beneath him.

“You all right back there?” he asked, unclipping his bike helmet.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I’m so relaxed, I almost fell asleep.”

He rubbed her hands, which were still grasping him, and turned his head toward her. “You want me to take you home?”

To his relief, she shook her head. “No. I’m not ready to go home yet.”

“Good,” he replied with a small smile. “Me neither.”

Carter helped her off the seat, with his hand in hers. He made to pull away once she was standing, but she held on, slipping her fingers through his. His eyes widened in surprise.

She glanced up at him, her lip wedged between her teeth. “Is this okay?”

Carter smiled. It was more than okay.

Walking leisurely through Central Park, hand in hand with Peaches, was a strange experience. Carter felt ten feet tall, but, at the same time, he was tiny and vulnerable. The chaos surging through his body made him feel exhilarated and scared to death. It was intense.

“You still with me over there?” Peaches asked as they made their way toward the spot by the Alice in Wonderland statue that had become their own, even after just one visit.

“Yeah,” he answered. “Why?”