A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(22)

Miss Lane was well and truly under his skin, and he wasn’t sure whether to be disturbed or delighted by it. He hardly knew her, had hardly spoken to her, yet he couldn’t get her face out of his head. It was just so damned … pretty.

[page]Fuck. He was losing it.

He huffed and supped the dregs of his water out of the bottle before launching it toward the garbage can, where it landed with a crash. Ross sat down next to Carter with a thump.

“I heard about your … episode … in class,” he offered diplomatically. Carter’s face immediately went grave. Ross held up his hands in defense. “Hey, man, no judgment here.”

Carter paused and dropped his eyes. Ross waited.

“It’s just …,” Carter began. “Straight off, I don’t give a shit about these lessons. I mean, I’m not stupid. I read and I know what I know, but … I have to do them for my parole.”

Ross remained quiet.

“But this woman …” He stopped himself, wanting nothing more than to bite his own tongue off. “I don’t know,” Carter finished quietly, more to himself than to the man sitting to his right.

It was the most honest explanation he could give, because, the truth was, he didn’t know. He didn’t know why he wanted to be back in Miss Lane’s class. He didn’t know why she made him feel so off balance, and he didn’t know why she’d cleaned him when he was bleeding.

The one thing he did know was that he’d liked it. He’d liked her doing it and he’d liked her being so close to him. It’d given him a chance to look at her properly. He’d been with many attractive women and seen even more, but there was something different about Miss Lane. She was natural, curvy, wore hardly any makeup, and he was damn sure her tits were what God had given her.

He was a tit man, and they were stellar.

He’d thought about touching them.

Nevertheless, the table incident had put an end to that.

Shit.

His parole officer was going to be pissed.

*

“Good morning, Miss Lane,” Ward offered as Kat approached his desk. He gestured to the chair at the other side.

“Good morning.”

“So,” Ward said, patting his palms on the arms of his seat. “What can I do for you?”

Kat swallowed down her nerves. Straight to it. “I heard that the incident with Carter could affect his application for early parole.”

“There’s no ‘could’ about it,” Ward answered brusquely. “He’s not going anywhere for the next seventeen months. He’ll serve his whole sentence and like it.”

Something in his tone set Kat on edge.

“Yes,” she countered, keeping her voice pleasant. “I understand he has a meeting with his parole officer scheduled soon.”

Ward nodded.

“And I also understand it isn’t just good behavior that can affect the decision of the parole board.” Kat’s eyebrow cocked when she saw the look of surprise washing over Ward’s face.

He sat forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the desk. “Miss Lane, where are you going with this?”

“I’ve taken the liberty of setting up a meeting with Carter’s corrections counselor, Jack Parker, this afternoon and would very much like to speak with his parole officer during her visit. I know either yourself or Jack can arrange that for me—”

Ward held a hand up to stop her. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask again. Where are you going with this, Miss Lane?”

Kat swallowed. “I want to tutor Carter.”