A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(43)

“No,” Peaches said firmly, placing her hand on the same piece of work. Carter’s eyes met hers. “What did you mean, Carter?”

He mumbled again, grabbing the pack of smokes to fidget with. Peaches waited patiently. “Are you wigging out because of my parole?” he snapped.

His question appeared to shock the hell out of her, but he didn’t give her time to respond.

“Because, frankly, I would much rather you be honest with me and tell me now. I mean, f*ck, I don’t wanna be standing in front of those smug losers all hopeful and shit, for you to turn around and say that you ain’t gonna see this through because of … whatever.”

*

Kat blinked. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words emerged. How could he think that she would wig out on him? Hadn’t she proven her commitment to his case and parole with all the work she’d been doing?

Yes, she’d been behaving differently with him, but there was no way she could explain to him why. She’d rather die first.

The truth was, two weeks ago, Kat’s nightmares had stopped. She would have been eternally grateful, if they hadn’t been replaced by the most sensual dreams she’d ever had. They’d started tame enough, but over fourteen nights they’d become steamier and steamier. Usually, this wouldn’t have been a problem—she’d had racy dreams before, of course; however, the man starring in her personal porn show was none other than one Mr. Wesley Carter.

Ever since she’d started having the dreams, she’d officially been in hell.

How could she have such mind-blowing dreams about a man she hardly knew? And what the hell was she going to do about the fact that she was potentially going to continue seeing him for at least another twelve months, outside of the guarded, well-monitored, keep-your-hands-to-yourself-and-we’ll-all-get-along-fine environment of Arthur Kill?

Not that she would ever dream of putting herself or Carter in a position such as that. No way. She was still his tutor and he was her student. She was in a trusted position and she wouldn’t jeopardize what she’d worked so hard to build. The nonfraternization policy would no doubt be enforced during his parole, too.

“Why do you think I wouldn’t see this through?” she asked finally. “What gave you the impression that I didn’t want to help you get parole?”

“I don’t know. Shit, you just seem different. Like you’re worried about something or nervous. I didn’t know whether it was the thought of carrying on with our sessions that had you freaking out.”

He hid the hurt in his voice well, but his eyes betrayed him when they dropped to the table. He’d noticed her distance. Suddenly, Kat didn’t know whether to feel flattered or terrified that he had noticed at all. She swallowed down her panic and moved closer to him.

She fought down the overwhelming urge to touch his face. “I’m here for the long haul. I really want to help you get parole, and I want to keep our sessions going.”

Carter let his eyes meet hers.

“I’m sorry if I’ve made you doubt that. I won’t let you down. You can count on that one hundred percent.”

Kat was surprised at the vehemence of her own words but knew in her heart she meant them. Pound of flesh or not, she was going to help Carter, and no one could change that.

It took a moment for Carter to speak. “Okay.”

They sat for a few moments in silence, neither one of them finding it uncomfortable.

“Are you very nervous about your parole application?” Kat asked eventually after watching Carter put his cigarette out. He shook his head. “Shylock,” she murmured. “As brave as ever.”