A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(176)

He stood, motionless, silent.

All Kat heard was the pounding of her heart. Her skin was clammy and the knot of helpless terror in her gut tightened incessantly. “Then … why are you here?”

The corner of Carter’s mouth twitched. “Walking out of that door, Kat, was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” He pressed a hand over his heart. “When I left there was this pain, like a, I don’t know … It was— It took my breath away. And the farther I walked away from you, the more painful it became. I … I thought I was dying.”

[page]She knew exactly what he meant. There’d been nothing but pain for her since the moment she’d realized he’d gone.

“I walked and walked,” Carter continued. “I was so mad with myself. I knew I had to keep going, and I tried. You have to believe me. I tried so damned hard. But, my heart. Jesus, it was— It was f*cking breaking.”

He stood up as straight as his exhausted body would allow, and looked at Kat for the first time.

Their eyes met. His were aged, defeated.

“I hate that I’ve caused so much trouble,” he said miserably. “You’ve had to defend yourself against people who should be happy for you. I have issues, I’m an angry f*cker, and I have a terrible temper. I still have shit I need to tell you about myself, and I have no idea where to start because I’m scared shitless you’ll run from me, and I know that makes me a selfish bastard for expecting you not to when I know that’s the best thing for you to do.”

“I—”

“Wait,” he interrupted, breathless, taking a wobbling step toward her. He was so close, Kat had to lift her head to look at him, her eyes level with the sharp edge of his rough jaw.

“Please, Peaches. I want”—he exhaled in frustration—“I want to do the right thing. I know I should walk away. I know I should have put my ass on a plane and gone home instead of standing outside of this hotel for four hours in the snow. I know you deserve better. I know all of that, Kat. But the truth is … the truth is …”

Kat closed her eyes, swaying toward him. She shivered when his ice-cold hand cupped her neck and moved to her cheek.

“The truth is,” he whispered, his lips by her ear, “I’m so damned scared to walk away. I can’t. I’m hopeless without you.”

Kat clutched his forearm, rested her head on his biceps, and released a soft, pained sound of relief.

His nose glided up her temple. “I’m yours. You have to know that. Christ. Tell me you know.”

“I know,” she whimpered. “I know.”

Carter’s body fell into Kat’s, pushing her back, stumbling into the hotel room. She managed to shut the door with the edge of her foot as he buried his face into her neck and began to shiver uncontrollably, mumbling garbled words into her skin. His arms wrapped around her waist, gripping her tighter than he ever had before.

“Kat,” he croaked. “I— Kat. Don’t make me go. Please.”

“Never,” she promised ardently.

His body shook violently.

“Let’s get you warm. Please, let me help you. You’re so cold.”

He stepped back reluctantly so she could unzip his jacket, which she pushed off his shoulders. He stood silently, looking downward, water dripping from his chin onto the floor, as she began to undress him. Wordlessly, and with his top half bare, and gooseflesh puckering every inch of his skin, Kat took his shaking hand and led him to the bathroom. Leaving him by the door, she switched on the five large showerheads, turning them to warm. She removed his boots and socks, unfastened his jeans, and helped him out of his underwear before she took off her own clothes.