A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(130)

Her skin blushed with the recollection of his stubbled kisses and the sensation of his silver rings, which had pinched her thighs as he’d slammed home, leaving vivid red marks that he’d licked in apology. Fuck.

She glanced at the empty doorway of the reading room. Where the hell was he? Kat knew Carter had “stuff” to do, and, as far as he knew, she was still without a cell phone, which explained the silence.

Nonetheless, Kat was hit abruptly with a worrying thought. Would Carter start to take liberties with their sessions now that they’d been intimate? Would he really think she wouldn’t kick his ass all over Manhattan for being late just because he’d given her numerous orgasms?

Kat’s leg twitched as her anger increased. He’d be in for one hell of a surprise if that was the case. Punchy and agitated, Kat rose from her seat and began to wander around the reading room, heading for her favorite section: poetry.

With the tip of her index finger placed against the spines of the books, Kat meandered down the aisle between two huge mahogany bookshelves. The smell of the leather, ink, and wood was rich and comforting, and reminded her of her father’s library at the house they’d owned in Westchester. Her father would read Rossetti and Blake to her when she was very young, and always when she was upset or hurt. She stopped when she came to the romantic poets, specifically Wordsworth, immediately needing his imagery of an English countryside and swaying daffodils to ease her mind.

Suitably calmed and incredibly nostalgic after reading three of his poems, Kat replaced Wordsworth and pulled down a small black book with gold-leaf font filled with sonnets, poems, and declarations of love. Holding the book in one hand, she leafed through the yellowing pages with the other when suddenly every single hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

Someone was behind her.

Before she could think about who it was or what they were doing, a large hand clasped her shoulder and swung her around, backing her into the shelves of the bookcase. The book she’d been holding fell from her hands to the floor with a loud slap.

Dizzy from being spun at speed, it took Kat a moment to find her bearings and focus on the face before her, and when she did, she wished immediately that she hadn’t.

[page]The tip of Carter’s nose was inches away, while his breath washed over her face in strong heated waves. His broad chest pressed firmly against her.

But that wasn’t what made Kat’s throat close in panic. It was the expression on his face. His eyes were so dark the blue was almost indistinct, and the edges of his perfect mouth curled up into a hateful snarl. He was ferocious. She opened her mouth to speak, but Carter’s hand was at once covering it, holding her words tightly in a palm that smelled of smoke and mint.

“Don’t,” he rasped. He closed his eyes and shook his head. His nostrils flared and his hold on her tightened. “Just don’t speak.”

Kat’s eyes widened, but she nodded in compliance, causing the metal of his rings to rub against her skin. She watched him, fascinated by his jaw as it clenched and twitched along with the small beads of sweat scattered along his hairline and buzzed sideburns. She knew what that sweat tasted like.

He blew air out from between his pursed lips before he finally began to speak. “I just came from a very … interesting meeting.” He spoke every word quietly to his large boots.

With his right hand still covering Kat’s lips and his left hand squeezing her hip, Carter gradually lifted his head and let his stare rest on hers. His eyes filled with every conceivable emotion. The overwhelming urge to hug him and take away the pain lacing his words struck Kat in the gut.