A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(67)

He shrugged. “Peaches is my name for you. No one else’s.”

“So I gather,” she replied, ignoring the covetous tone of his voice even though it sent warm flutters through her chest.

“So, our session Friday.” He grimaced and pulled his beanie over his ears. “I’m not going to be able to make it.”

Disappointment teased at Kat’s throat.

“I have my first meeting with Diane. Jack’s coming,” he explained. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It just means we have to book those two hours elsewhere.” She retrieved her planner from her bag and flipped the pages to the date. Carter picked up his bike helmet and walked to her side.

Kat groaned in frustration. “I can’t make tomorrow. I have a work meeting and the library shuts at six and I haven’t requested a stay-open …” She trailed off, deflated.

“It’s not a problem.”

“Actually, it is,” she countered. “We have to have six hours a week, per parole orders.”

Carter stared at the floor. “Well, um … what are you doing Saturday?”

“Saturday?”

Carter shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Ye— Well, yeah.”

“I haven’t booked the room for Saturday.”

Carter huffed. “Are you being obtuse on purpose? We could meet on Saturday if you have nothing planned. Go to the park or something and study there. I don’t know.”

“The park?”

“Holy shit, woman!” Kat smiled at the same time that Carter eyed her distrustfully. “Are you playing with me, Peaches?”

“I’m sorry,” she said with a small giggle. “I’m just surprised. I thought the last thing you’d want to do would be to study on a Saturday.”

“I’m a good student, what can I say?” Kat snorted. “So,” Carter pushed, “are you busy Saturday?”

Kat looked at him with trepidation. His face appeared eager, apprehensive, and very young. She didn’t need to check her diary. She knew she was free. Austin’s text flashed through her mind.

“No, I’m not busy,” she answered, wondering fleetingly if she would go on to regret the words that now slipped so easily from her mouth.

The resulting smile on Carter’s face was beatific. “Well, good. Saturday it is. What time?”

“One?”

“One is great. Fifth Avenue and Fifty-ninth entrance?”

“Perfect.”

*

Carter tucked his helmet under his arm and gestured for Peaches to lead the way.

The pair meandered through the nearly deserted library and out into the cool New York City evening. They descended the front steps and turned onto the sidewalk.

“Is this your bike?” she asked, approaching the exquisite piece of machinery.

“This is she,” Carter said fervently. “Kala.”

“Kala?”

“Fire. It means art, too, but it was the fire part I liked.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“I always liked the 2010 Harley Sportster Forty-Eight,” she continued. “It was so much sleeker than the Nightster. Faster engine, too.”

The sound of Carter’s jaw popping open and his cock straining against his fly was heard as far away as Philadelphia.

Holy. Fuck.

He watched her small hand skim across the leather of Kala’s seat, knowing it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. His mind was immediately accosted with obscene images of Peaches spread naked on Kala.