Page 31 of Ly to Me
He glanced over his shoulder again. “If you don’t want to stay the night, I get it. I can borrow my dad’s truck and drive you back home.”
“Won’t he ask why you need it?”
Car shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I’ll stay.” His shock at my quick response made something final settle in my bones.
“You sure?”
I nodded. “Yeah. No school tomorrow, anyway.” And Chet would be back tonight. A deep groove formed between his brows as I walked past him. “Comin’?”
He stood there for a beat, then grinned. “Comin’.”
12
Lyra
The Arrangement
The number of things I could do to his truck were endless. Keying the sides, putting a heavy rock on the gas pedal and letting it go until it hit something, or using that same rock toknock out all the windows. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about doing all of those and more as I pulled up to the house.
I settled for knocking my boots—hisboots—together over the seats before I slid out, letting the rain pour over the door for several long seconds ’til I was somewhat satisfied. This was just the start. He couldn’t get away with what he did to me. Not again. If he wanted to keep pushing, then I’d bite back. Fuck any man who thought they’d have the upper hand with me.
I entered his room to find that red lace set laid out on his bed, pillow tucked in place behind it, taunting me and my decisions. Maybe buying a thousand dollars’ worth of paper bags would have been better. Then again, he’d just have me do whatever he wanted while naked.
I quickly washed off the mud caked to my front and lining the ends of my hair, then did as I was told, almost curious to see what it was he wanted. He said he wouldn’t fuck me yet, and I doubted thirty minutes was the difference in time he needed to change that.
The hallway shower turned off as I sat on the edge of the bed, dangling my bare legs over the footboard. As Carver stepped into the room, I tried to avoid showing just how much he’d humiliated me already.
Maybe that was his game, and getting me to marry him was just another one of his tactics in action.
“Well?” I crossed my arms, resisting the urge to soak in the fact that he walked in wearing only a low-slung towel by focusing on those vibrant blue eyes I should’ve jabbed out when I had the chance.
His eyes, however, wandered. “Well.”
Every piece of my skin burned as he took a seat on a chair across from his bed. Carver leaned back and spread his legs wide, making the towel dip between his thighs, revealing anoutline that was rather hard to forget, even with ten years of separation.
“I listened.”
“I’m shocked.” He squinted through the window, past the battering rain. “Do I want to know what you did to my truck?”
“I don’t know,husband, do you?” I planted my palms on the bed and pushed my chest out just enough to snap his attention back to me. It was better when I was in control.
The corner of his lips twitched. “The red looks good on you. Always has.”
“I prefer black.”
“I remember.” He shuffled back more, then settled his fingers just beneath his chin.
I glared back. “Care to tell me why you forced me to put this on?”
“For the same reason you decided to wear it.” He leaned forward, and I scoffed. “You may have taken advantage of me when we were younger, but that ain’t happening again, Ly.”
My nails dug into the comforter. “That’s not how I remember it.” His jaw clenched, his atala blue eyes looking right back at me. God, why the hell couldn’t his eyes be as dull as mine? Those pretty eyes of his moved to the desk right before he stood up and strolled to it with all the predatorial prowess of the very bird sprawled across his back.
“Here.” The papers I signed earlier landed on my lap. I glanced at the deep cuts of muscle leading south mere inches from my knees. “Read it. I’ll wait.”
“Seriously?”
