A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(71)

Kat had secretly been dreading meeting Carter outside of the library. She realized that technically, she wasn’t doing anything wrong by being with him in the park, but deep inside, she knew she was on shaky ground. She hadn’t told Beth, her mom, or Ben about the session, knowing she was bound to get some sort of lecture from one, if not all, of them.

Not that it seemed she’d have the opportunity to speak to Beth, who had been uncharacteristically quiet of late. Since Kat’s birthday, there’d been a couple of text messages but nothing more. Ben, to whom she’d been speaking when Carter had startled her, was also seemingly mystified by Beth’s weird behavior. Something was definitely up.

“You okay over there, Peaches?”

Carter’s voice pulled her back to the park. She looked up to see the top of his nose over his shades bunched into a concerned frown.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she answered. “The spot’s just over there.”

She made her way over to the grass and pressed a hand down to check its dampness.

“Here,” Carter muttered as he laid his jacket down. “You can sit on that.”

“The grass is dry,” Kat insisted.

He shrugged. “Just sit on the damn thing. It won’t kill ya.”

Kat dropped her stuff on the ground. “Thank you.”

Carter dropped down onto the grass, his arm grazing hers. He lit a cigarette leaning back on his elbows, blowing the smoke down his nose. Kat watched him furtively as he looked out across the water, glancing at the children climbing all over the Alice in Wonderland statue situated to their right. He looked devastatingly beautiful.

“I, um … I brought you something.” She reached into her bag.

He raised his eyebrows in expectation. She pulled out her hand to reveal a large pack of Oreos. He grinned and she threw them onto his lap.

“You shouldn’t have.” He chuckled.

She waved him off. “They’re more for me,” she muttered, seeing a questioning expression cross his face. “I know what a grumpy ass you can be without your Oreos, and I don’t need your attitude.” She smiled before delving back into her bag. “And no. I didn’t bring milk.”

Carter sat up, ripping the pack open. “I love these things.”

“I noticed.”

“You want?” he asked, holding the pack out to her while his tongue began doing indecent things to the white cream in the center of a cookie.

She watched, entranced. “Um, no, I’m good.”

Was it even possible to be jealous of a cookie?

She turned from him, grabbing the session resources. She handed Carter his copy, and asked him to refresh her on what they learned about the sexually deviant Donne poem. He didn’t disappoint. It seemed that her gift of calorific cookie beauty had unleashed his garrulous side. She loved listening to him. Hearing his voice, even when he cursed, was like wrapping up in velvet. Much like its owner, it was filled with contradictions. It was soft but firm, loud but quiet, commanding and submissive.

Behind her shades, she closed her eyes and listened. It was a lullaby, easing some place hidden inside of her.

“You like this poem,” she stated when he became quiet.

Carter appeared indifferent. He lay back on the grass, next to where Kat was sitting cross-legged. “I like the metaphors he uses, even if I don’t agree with them.”

Kat waited for him to explain. He breathed deeply, which made his T-shirt rise from the waistband of his jeans, showing a black strip of underwear and a white slice of stomach. She tried not to notice. Really. She did.