A Pound of Flesh

by Jackson, Sophie

  From learning about his mother’s desire to “get rid” of him, and her subsequent intolerance of him as a child, to the day his own father sent him away to a strange boarding school at the tender age of nine—even though the small dark-haired boy had begged and pleaded for his daddy not to—Carter had learned to become immune to the sting of things going to shit.

  He was used to it, he shrugged it off, and, in many ways—as cynical as it was—Carter had started to expect the worst in all situations and people. At least that way he was never taken by surprise, and the arrogant, devil-may-care armor he covered himself in continued to protect him from any and all pain that came with being around fuckers and fuckups.

  Carter was an angry son of a bitch and had accepted that particular fact years ago. He didn’t like it and he hated the roots of it, but, shit, how else was he supposed to feel after everything he’d been through? He’d resigned himself to being that way his whole life.

  Well, until Peaches came back into his life.

  Kat.

  The woman had been an enigma to him from the get-go. She’d driven him fucking crazy—still did—but, as time had gone on, along with his prison release and the changes in his and Kat’s relationship, Carter had begun to realize that, as much as she could rile him and get on his last damn nerve, she also managed to calm him.

  After the most intense fucking of his life, while he’d held a sleeping Kat in his arms, in his bed, Carter had experienced something that he was utterly unfamiliar with: peace.

  It wasn’t that his brain turned off completely while she was around, or that he had had some cheesy spiritual enlightenment while they’d come together. It was simply that Kat seemed to help lower his brain volume. The frustration, anger, and disappointment that twisted constantly within him were blunted by Kat’s presence. He could breathe better, relax, feel more himself—and he’d basked unashamedly in his newfound slice of serenity.

  Certainly, his Kat was a paradox. Her touch and words grounded him, while her kisses made him fly. At times she made him want to rip the city up in rage, but she could also make him smile like no one else. Her hugs and caresses dazed him as much as her furious verbal slaps, and Carter still wasn’t decided about whether her fiery anger turned him on more than her sexual passion.

  The juxtaposition was intense and, for Carter, absolutely perfect. Just like she was.

  Her fire and strength, and her tenderness and sensitivity, were what made Kat so special. As ferocious as she could be, she could also be soft and quiet: molten fire and relaxing warmth. Carter loved that she kept him on his toes. He loved the spontaneity and the passion that smoldered continually between them, and he loved that she met him with every touch, kiss, and thrust with as much intensity as he felt.

  She was everything he needed or wanted. But, as much as he should have been embracing his feelings for this spectacular woman, Carter found himself entirely terrified by them.

  He was a pussy, he knew, but it was the unknown, the unfamiliarity, and the vulnerability that he had opened himself up to that left a sheen of sweat on his brow and a flutter in his heart. His armor had been delivered a huge blow when he’d pushed himself into Kat that night.

  She hadn’t eased it off him with a gentle caress. No. She had torn it open with wild hunger, frantic touches, and whispered words that floored him, putting his chest and his heart in a seriously precarious position.

  Carter couldn’t imagine being without Kat, now that he had her, and the thought of losing her filled him with a dread that was almost suffocating. Disappointment and frustration were nothing compared to the inevitable pain that Kat’s absence would cause. For all his assaholic, aggressive, don’t-give-a-fuck showboating, Carter had left himself wide-open. Kat had crawled into the many spaces within him that he’d thought were lost and barren, and had brought every one of them back to life.

  After watching her through the large window at the front of the beach house, he emerged cautiously from the side door. He wandered along the porch toward her. She seemed mesmerized. Carter prayed it was because she was pleased. Shit, but he was nervous. He’d never done anything like this before, and he wanted the weekend to be perfect, a chance for them to reconnect. With a large breath, he jogged over. His chest warmed when she beamed.

  He reached up to her aviator shades and pulled them gently from her face. “There’s my girl,” he whispered. “So, what do you think?” he asked with a chin tilt toward the house.

  “It’s wonderful,” she answered. “It’s been so long since I’ve been to the beach.”

  “I figured.” He scratched his chin and cleared his throat. “I remembered you talking about the beach, about your dad, how you hadn’t been for a really long time, and I thought you’d like it.”

  Kat launched herself at him, nearly knocking him off his feet. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and kissed his lips hungrily. Carter wound his arms around her and held her closely, breathing every inch of her in, his entire body burning.

  He staggered sideways, stopping only when his hip hit her car. He grunted into her mouth while their tongues were reacquainted and turned in a half circle so he could press her soft body against the car.

  Her hands were on his face, gripping and caressing. Carter rubbed up against her like a damn cat. He hadn’t been inside of her since their one night together, and he was about ready to lose his fucking mind. When his hips rotated into hers, she gasped and wrapped her legs around the backs of his thighs, wanting him closer. Carter obliged by grabbing her ass. He’d missed having her so close to him, so responsive. He licked and nibbled until Kat was panting and whimpering his name.

  “We have to stop,” she breathed. Her body betrayed her words when she clutched his face, yanking his mouth back to hers.

  “Why?” he asked with a quirk of his eyebrow. “There’s no one for a few miles. If I wanted to fuck you right here”—he shifted his hips, making her gasp—“I could.”

  Her lips curved up against his cheek before she placed a soft kiss right in the center of it. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Carter looked at her questioningly. She was sensational with her swollen lips and windblown hair.

  “For inviting me here, I mean. For knowing I would love it.”

  “You love it?”

  “It’s so pretty.”

  Relief seized his racing heart. “You wanna see inside?”

  With a quick kiss to her lips, Carter held on to her until her feet once again found the ground. Carter grabbed Kat’s suitcase and led her along the porch and through the front door.

  She took hesitant steps along the hallway, glancing at the beech wood stairs leading to the first floor. She was quiet as she removed her jacket, making her way into the living room, with Carter following silently. She walked around, standing by the window that looked out onto the ocean and the sand banks covered in long, yellowing grass.

  Leaning against the doorjamb, Carter watched her. She was undeniably perfect, standing in his house. He’d thought the same when he’d first seen her in his apartment in the city, but somehow, this was different. His present was merging with his past, making him feel oddly at ease.

  After heaving her suitcase upstairs to the bedroom, Carter returned to find Kat glancing at the eclectic artwork on the walls. He knew from seeing her own art collection that she appreciated watercolors, but his throat narrowed in panic when she stopped dead at a selection of black-and-white photographs littering the wall above the roaring fireplace.

  “This is you,” she murmured, pointing to a picture of a young boy in shorts building a huge sandcastle.

  “Yeah,” he answered, moving next to her. “I was seven.”

  Her fingertips glided over his image. “You’re so happy. Who took it?”

  “My grandmother,” he replied. “This was her house. The house I told you about—she left it to me.” He glanced around. “It was our place.” He gave her a one-shouldered shrug. “We came here a lot. Just the two of us.�
��

  “It holds happy memories for you?”

  “Yeah, the few that I have from my childhood belong here.” He swallowed. “I wanted to share it with you.”

  She placed a soft kiss on his shoulder.

  Carter kissed the top of her hair. “Come on,” he whispered. “I’ll get you a drink. Food for dinner is all ready for cooking. You like shellfish, right?”

  When she nodded, Carter moved closer to her mouth. “Great, I’m starving.” His words carried an undeniable undertone, but he was under no illusions. The next few days were not just about being naked with her. They were about truth, honesty, stepping up, and being an adult. Now that she had wrecked his punk-ass armor, Carter knew he had to show her everything that lay underneath. It was daunting and scary, but he would do it for her. He had to.

  They kissed again tenderly but with a promised passion. “Why don’t you go upstairs, get changed into something really warm so you don’t get hypothermia or some shit, and I’ll start on dinner.”

  Strangely, she neither argued nor questioned him. “Third door on the right,” he said. “I put your suitcase at the end of the bed.”

  “Thank you,” she said before she disappeared up the stairs.

  ·  ·  ·

  “What else?”

  Kat chewed her lip as she thought. “Anchovies and olives.” She made an “ick” face. “And lemons. I hate any lemon food—lemon cakes, lemon dressing.” She grimaced and shivered.

  “You drink Sprite,” Carter pointed out through a cloud of smoke.

  “That’s different,” Kat countered with a tone that closed the conversation.

  Carter rolled his eyes.

  “What do you hate?” she asked.

  “Tomatoes,” he answered swiftly, “anchovies, pineapple, any fish except shellfish, and macaroni and cheese.”

  “Macaroni and cheese?” Kat laughed. “What is wrong with you?”

  Carter frowned. “I hate the fucking stuff.”

  “Okay,” Kat conceded. “Favorite food?”

  “Peaches.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “I’m serious,” he offered. “Peaches and Oreos.” He grinned. “Favorite movie?”

  “I can’t pick just one.”

  “Fine, two.”

  “The Goonies and Forrest Gump. You.”

  “Beetlejuice and Pulp Fiction,” Carter replied as he put his smoke out. “Favorite album?”

  “Rubber Soul and Revolver by the Beatles. It’s always been one album for me.” She gestured for him to answer.

  “Same,” he smirked. “That and The White Album, tied.”

  They’d been at the question game for over an hour. Kat watched from her seat on the back porch, wrapped in a large wool blanket, snuggled and warm, while Carter cooked their dinner on the grill and answered every question she threw at him. The smell of shellfish encircled her in the fresh wind, mixing with the scent of the sea and Carter’s cigarette smoke.

  As well as looking unbelievably sexy in a large, black knitted sweater and dark jeans, Kat couldn’t believe how calm he seemed. He looked like he belonged, settled and free, as though the weight he carried around with him in the city had been swept away by the waves crashing against the shore not one hundred yards away.

  “You look peaceful here.”

  Carter finished his beer. “That’s pretty much how I feel. There’s something about the coast. It makes me feel different.”

  “Better different?”

  “Yeah.” His eyes glimmered, soft and gentle. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Me too.”

  The food was incredible. Kat told him repeatedly about how good it was, and, in return, Carter made salacious comments about how he’d heard those kinds of words from her before. Kat had convinced herself that playful Carter would be difficult to adjust to; she was so used to brooding, serious, cursing, huffy Carter—and she loved him dearly—that cute and cuddly Carter sounded ridiculous. Kat realized that, in this case, she loved being wrong. His honesty and smile came easier the more they talked, pulling Kat deeper and deeper into the arms of emotions that no longer frightened her. She only worried whether they would frighten him.

  After they washed up, during which Carter let his hands rub all over Kat’s ass, he led her down the porch onto the beach. It was dark, but small twinkling lights placed on either side of the walkway, and Carter’s flashlight, showed the way.

  While Kat placed the beer and the bag he’d given her to carry to the side, and took a seat on the cool sand, Carter went about starting a fire in the pit filled with driftwood and logs with a can of lighter fluid, a match, and much enthusiasm. Kat doubled over laughing when she saw his ecstatic expression once he got the damn thing ablaze.

  “Me. Man. Build fire for woman,” he boomed, pounding his chest and gesturing proudly to the pit.

  Kat called him an utter loser, which encouraged Carter to attack her ribs mercilessly with his long, nimble fingers. He growled into her neck while he tickled her, and laughed when she tried to tickle him back. It was loud—a true belly laugh that came from deep inside of him.

  It was wonderful.

  Carter shuffled so his back was against a conveniently placed rock and pulled Kat between his legs, keeping the blanket around them both. He pulled two beers and a pack of marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate from a bag. She stared wide-eyed at the bag in his hand.

  “You brought marshmallows?” she exclaimed.

  Carter deadpanned: “Um, we have an open flame going on here, Peaches. Of course I brought marshmallows. We have to eat s’mores on the beach.” He scoffed. “It’s the law.”

  They ate at least three each before Kat called mercy and collapsed against Carter. “I’m so full. You always make me eat too much. I’m gonna get really fat.”

  Carter clicked his tongue next to her ear. “What bullshit.” His hands moved under her layers of clothes and gripped her sides. “You’re fucking perfect. I love the way you feel. Besides, I’ll help you work it off later.”

  “I’m sure,” Kat shot back and giggled when she heard him groan. “First, tell me more about the house and your time with your grandma.” He handed her another beer. She was on her fourth now, and she needed to slow down. If Carter’s aim was to get her drunk and have his way with her, then he wasn’t far from achieving it. “Tell me about your friends, girlfriends . . . tell me everything.”

  Carter laughed. They continued to watch the flames lick and dance in the moonlight. The wind had died down now and the sky had cleared, dropping the temperature so that their breath was visible. Kat couldn’t feel the cold, though, wrapped in her blissful bubble.

  “Okay.” Carter rubbed his hands across her stomach. “Well, my main group of friends work with me at the shop.”

  “Max’s shop? Tell me about Max. How long have you known each other?”

  Carter smiled. “Nearly twenty years.”

  “Is he a good friend to you?”

  “Yeah, he is. He laughed his ass off when I told him I was bringing you here.” He looked troubled, almost sad.

  With a friendship of two decades, it was obvious there was more to their story, but Kat decided not to push. Like peeling the layers of an onion, he revealed himself to her a little bit at a time. He couldn’t be rushed. He would tell her when he was ready. She had to trust that.

  “I’ve never had a girlfriend,” he continued. “I was never with girls long enough to warrant a label like that. This may be hard to believe, but I was a complete asshole with girls when I was a kid.” His self-ridicule was adorable.

  “No way.”

  “Way.” The playfulness ebbed from his face as he held her close. His words were low and serious in her ear. “I want you to know something.” He took a deep breath. “I won’t ever be that way with you. I promise. You deserve more than that. I’m far from perfect, but I swear I’ll do my best.”

  Kat relaxed into his chest. “Do you know what a good person you are,
Carter?”

  Carter let his nose touch the tip of hers. “I’m not a good person, Kat—”

  “Bullshit.” She turned in his arms.

  Before he could argue, Kat pressed on. “You saved my life.” She traced his lips with the tips of her fingers. “Don’t ever tell me you’re not good.”

  ·  ·  ·

  Carter’s grip tightened. She was so warm and soft. “You feel incredible.” He kissed down her neck to her collarbone, licking at her delicate skin. “You taste so good. You smell so good.” Kat gasped his name. “Tell me I can be inside of you tonight.”

  Wordlessly, she moved her hand and grabbed him through his jeans. He groaned and bit down on her earlobe. She rubbed him firmly, drawing gasps of want from his chest, damn near making him come in six perfect strokes. Abruptly, Kat moved until she was on her knees between Carter’s legs, leaving him hard and achy with the small distance between them. Carter pouted at the same time she scrambled to her feet. She grabbed their trash and blanket and, with the sound of her laughter bounding across the sand dunes, ran ahead of him into the house.

  She wanted him to chase her? Game. On.

  Leaving the fire in the pit to die down itself, Carter grabbed what trash and beer was left and, as best as he could with a hard-on, sprinted after her, making it to the back door as the wind slammed it shut. Opening it with a grumble and dropping everything to the floor, he motored through the house, grinning at every piece of Kat’s crumpled clothing he passed.

  Her hat, her boots, her socks, her scarf, her sweater . . . her bra.

  She squealed when his heavy feet thundered up the stairs at the back of her, but all Carter could see was a flash of chestnut-red hair as she flew to the bedroom.

  Dammit, she was quick.

  Kicking open the bedroom door and making Kat scream in excited panic, he managed to grab hold of her arm, pulling her bare back against his chest. She gasped for air, but the moans came thick and fast when Carter’s mouth latched hungrily on to her shoulder. She reached up and pulled at his neck, grabbing for him and begging for any part of him to be in her.