A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(142)

“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 f*ck.”

That’s my girl.





25


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?”

[page]Carter answered with a squeeze of her hand. “He’s a crazy motherf*cker, 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.