Page 24 of Ly to Me
Carver took three steps forward and wrapped his arms around my waist. I shuddered in his hold, the warmth of his arms combatting with the cold from the rain sticking to my skin.
“Don’t run from me.” His next words came out shaky, that angry version of him toning down to the Carver I’d come to know. “You can run from anyone else you want, but not me.”
Rain battered my forehead as I angled my chin toward the sky—toward him. Sun beamed through the drops, creating a rainbow of colors that reflected in his eyes as he held my gaze, all anger wiped from his features. “What’s going on with you?”
His hold on me tightened as he chuckled softly. “What’s goin’ on with me?” he repeated the question, sounding incredulous. “What’s goin’ on with me is you, Lyra Thomas.”
As my lips parted, his crashed into mine. The hard lines of his body melded to me, softening my arms as I reached my hands around his neck. When he groaned against my mouth, my brain turned to fodder.
My untrained lips parted more, giving him access as he swept his tongue in. All at once, he dropped to his knees, taking me down with him in an uncoordinated mess of warm, wet bodies as our kiss deepened. Carver’s lips moved as his hands grasped my thighs, situating them on either side of his bent legs.
My bag slipped from my shoulders as his hands worked their way up my back, our kiss slowing until I put my hand to his chest and reared back. Carver’s lips were swollen and pouty, and an odd sort of satisfaction and warmth spread through me as he smiled.
“Why’re we stoppin’?” he whispered, trying to pull me closer, but my hand stayed firm on his chest.
“Why…why would you kiss me?”
His fingers swept gently down my back. “’Cause I like you.”
My brows furrowed. “You do?”
He laughed. “Obviously.”
My brain pieced together how he’d slammed Noah against the wall after talking to me. The way he threatened him.Oh.“You were jealous?”
He touched the tip of my nose with his finger. “Yes.” It took a minute before a slow grin spread across my face. “Are you okay with that?”
I shook my head, then mid-shake, switched to a nod. “I, uh—”
“What, Ly?”
“It’s stupid.”
His fingers cupped my chin. “Nothing you say is stupid.”
“It’s just…you’re like theEumaeus atala. Well, most butterflies in some ways, but”—I pushed dark strands from his face, staring right into his crystalline blue eyes—“the atala, I think, fits you the most.”
9
Lyra
The Contract
Whoever put sitting on Carver Roland’s bed and waiting for him like his personal slave on my bingo card for this year had another thing comin’.
No one made me their bitch. I knew how to work the men I’d encountered, making sure I always had the upper hand. But there was no upper hand with Carver—all hands were his.
Above, below…inside, like his tongue on—
My thighs clenched together as I stared at the bag I’d dumped and spread all over the bed. I’d been waiting for ten minutes now, and he still hadn’t shown up. I’d even listened to the occasional shoutin’ and hollerin’ through the windows, but even that quieted.
So where the fuck—
The bedroom door swung open, and Carver’s tall frame and powerful build filled the space. He’d removed his shirt, the fabric now hanging from the top edge of his jeans.
My throat turned dry as he stepped in and let the door click shut softly behind him. His eyes started at my feet, then slowly, inch by inch, he ate me up like he had this morning in the kitchen. I crossed my arms and waited.
“Done now?”
