Page 16 of Ly to Me (Devils of Alliston Springs #1)

Lyra

The Arrangement

T he 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 to knock 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— his boots—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 an outline 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?”

Carver sat back down, settling into the same position of nonchalance as he pointed at the papers. “Read.”

Although I’d seen it when I signed, the names at the top gave me pause.

If he noticed, he stayed silent. I flipped through a few of the pages, skimming at best because my focus was still on the names repeated at the top of every page.

I decided against asking and continued. The last page, the one I’d seen him writing on before when I demanded more money, was the one that stood out the most. All the other pages were part of a will, but the last—

“Find the parts you need?”

With my head still angled down, I flicked my gaze to him. “Still reading.”

He adjusted his towel. “Take your time, then. I know I am.”

I shot another death glare his way, and he chuckled as I started reading the handwritten, numbered articles of our arrangement:

Image of their marriage contract, which reads: 1.

The arrangement between both parties must appear real.

No one outside of the arrangement can know it is anything but a real marriage.

2. The benefactors will live together under the same roof for the duration of their marriage.

Lyra Thomas will gain access to her earnings on the thirtieth day, not a single day before or after.

3. All and any funds needed while living under Carver Roland’s roof will be granted by Carver Roland as he sees fit.

I paused and glanced at him. “There’s no amount here.”

“I only had a pen, Ly.”

“And?” I asked.

“You thought I believed you’d settle for the ten-thousand dollars I offered at first?” My eyes flicked to the pen, and my brows furrowed. “I was signing my name when you changed the amount that was verbally agreed upon.”

I glared at his cocky smirk before I continued.

Image of their marriage contract, which reads: 4. Lyra Thomas agrees to follow any and all rules set forth by Carver Roland. In exchange, Carver Roland agrees to stop when a safe word is mentioned. Safe Word: ______

I looked up again and pointed at Article Four. “Why is the safe word blank?”

“Figured you should pick that, seeing as it would make you safe from me.”

“Whatever happened to good ole fashioned ‘no?’”

“‘No’ it is, then.”

I drummed my fingers on the papers, my focus still on him. “Why even give me a safe word if you’re so keen on making my life a living Hell for the next thirty days?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “If I don’t give you a safe word, then I won’t know when to stop.” His eyes flicked to my knee, where a thin line of red stretched. “And contrary to what you might think, I don’t actually want to hurt you. Not in ways you won’t enjoy, at least.”

“You pinned me down in the mud.”

“And your pussy was wetter than the stream behind us when I did.”

I picked the papers up this time, blocking my face as heat flooded my neck.

Image of their marriage contract, which reads: 5. The marriage must be consummated at some point within thirty days or all monetary benefits for Lyra Thomas are null and void.

I flipped the papers over, seeing the note I’d left him when I took his credit card, then thumbed through to see if I’d missed another section since the last number ended at the very bottom of the page. But, there was nothing I had missed. I tossed the papers beside me on the bed.

“I take it you read that last one, huh?”

“I read it all .”

“Good.” He stood again and instantly let his towel fall to the ground right as he turned to walk into his closet.

“What if I object to anything in those articles?” I raised my voice, assuming he couldn’t hear me just as much as I couldn’t not stare at his ass while he walked away.

Carver had been attractive as a teen, but had been comprised of a lean type of muscle that wasn’t nearly as defined as what it was now.

Now…now it looked like every piece of muscle had been hard-earned and more cut than the stones I stood on top of in the stream.

The tattoos that spanned his arms, up to his neck, and even down to his thighs were mostly a collective montage of individual images, but only added to his overall appeal.

And the smattering of hair I’d glimpsed that trailed down… and down…

As much as I fuckin’ hated him, he was still the most attractive man I’d ever seen.

“You can’t object, Ly. You signed, I signed. We agreed.” Clothing shuffled, and moments later, he came back out wearing only a pair of low-slung and unbuttoned jeans.

“Explain to me why you felt the need to add article five in there?”

“Because.” He strolled toward me, then stopped as his thighs hit my knees. I swallowed thickly as I looked up at him. “It needs to look real.”

“Won’t it look real enough with me living here and telling people you’re my…”

“ Husband. ”

I swallowed again. “Right.”

His fingers swept beneath my chin as he tilted my head back further. “In case you haven’t noticed, you have a habit of lying. Not many in town, much less Jamie, will believe this is anything unless you look like you’ve been fucked. Thoroughly.”

“I can fuck my hand or someone else to look that way.”

His grip on me shifted down, wrapping around my throat. “You touch anyone else while you’re mine and I won’t hesitate to shoot them.” The edges of the eagle’s wings peeping over his shoulders dared me to push.

“You didn’t put that in the agreement.”

“Article four.” He released me with force. “You can’t touch or even look at another man or woman or your fucking hand or whatever you think is going to get you off.”

“And you?” The words came out as if I cared what or who he touched. I didn’t, but what’s fair is fair. “You can’t touch anything or anyone, either.”

“I believe that’s covered in article one. A real marriage wouldn’t have a cheating party, but maybe you didn’t know that.”

Anger raised as I snatched up the papers and threw them at his head. A flurry of white scattered around him just before he lunged for me, taking my throat in his hand and forcing me to lie back with his weight above me.

“Just because I didn’t have perfect parents growing up doesn’t mean I don’t know what a marriage is supposed to look like,” I retorted, trying to leverage my knees to meet his groin. Right as I lifted my foot to do so, he used his leg to combat it, pinning my leg to the side instead.

“Keep goin’”—his hips dipped lower, and I felt just how much my anger fueled him—“and we can knock article five right off on day one.”

“Get the fuck off me and go stick your dick in a muddy hole.”

“Lose the attitude or I can toss you back in the mud and stick my dick in your muddy hole, as you agreed to.” His hold on me softened as his eyes trailed over the hair that had fallen over my face.

Something like disgust or anger twisted his features before he maneuvered himself off me and walked to the door.

“I have chores to do. A woman named Helen is coming by in an hour. Let her in when she gets here.”

The walls rattled as he slammed the door, leaving me mostly untouched in my lingerie that was supposed to drive him to madness.

Perhaps it had, judging by the soreness between my thighs.

Or maybe it’d backfired on me, because I couldn’t stop picturing who Helen was and why the fuck she was coming here.