A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(68)

Peaches riding Kala.

Peaches’ thighs tight around his waist.

He moaned softly, deep in his throat.

Usually, if a woman touched his bike, Carter would go ape shit, but somehow, seeing Peaches do it made him dry at the mouth and twitching at the crotch.

“You know your bikes,” he stated.

“Not really,” she replied with a shrug. She touched the handlebars. Carter licked his lips. “I would ride with my dad sometimes when we went to the beach on holiday twice a year. It was my favorite time with him.”

“If you ever …” Carter pointed to the bike, tongue-tied. “We could. The beach isn’t that far away.”

He rubbed his hands together as if that would explain what the hell he was trying to say so inarticulately.

“Maybe one day,” she muttered.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Her cell phone began chirping from her pocket, shattering the moment.

“I’ll see you Saturday,” she said, walking backward away from him.

Carter rubbed his chest, where warm excitement wound around his lungs. “You bet.”

*

The following Friday evening, Jack and Diane arrived at Carter’s apartment to amuse him with their usual bullshit about rehabilitation and being in the right mind-set to make a “valuable contribution to society.”

Jack, Carter conceded silently, wasn’t as bad as he’d feared he would be. He simply begrudged them both for taking his Peaches’ time away from him. They’d stayed at his apartment, drinking coffee and discussing his work at the body shop, his workouts with Ross, and the anger therapy he was still to start. Jack, the sly shit, had waited nearly an hour before he’d brought up the library sessions. Carter had answered his questions, pleased that Diane had received Peaches’ paperwork detailing the progress they’d made, while dodging Jack’s suspicious stares.

“So”—Jack glanced at the bathroom door Diane had just gone through—“you and Miss Lane are okay?”

“Yeah,” Carter replied with a nonchalant shrug. “We’re fine. Good, actually.” He smiled. “The sessions are … interesting and we get a lot done.”

Jack inclined his head. “And you’re behaving?”

“Of course I’m behaving. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jack put his coffee cup down. “I didn’t mean that, Wes. Miss Lane’s already stated in her papers that your attitude is much improved.”

Carter was a little surprised by that considering what had happened with the fat * and his lack of manners.

Jack breathed deeply. “Wes, I meant …” He lowered his voice before continuing. “I meant are you managing the sessions with it being just the two of you?”

Carter tried to hold Jack’s stare but found his eyes settling on his own sock-clad feet, fidgeting nervously on the floor.

Was he managing with it just being the two of them? Yes.

Was he about ready to blow a fuse with the tension between him and Peaches? Fuck yes.

He lifted his head and gave Jack a pointed look. “I’m not an idiot, J.”

“I know you’re not,” Jack agreed. “But you have to understand the implications of, you know, if—if anything …” He trailed off. “The nonfraternization clause she signed—”

“I know.” Carter dropped back in his seat.

He knew Jack had seen firsthand the chemistry between Carter and Peaches. Carter stared at Jack, silently accepting the line that lay between himself and his tutor. As blurred as it had become, he knew he couldn’t cross it. He knew he shouldn’t cross it.