Page 21 of Ly to Me (Devils of Alliston Springs #1)

Carver

The Shower

“ T hat’s it, sweetheart. Get it all out.”

Lyra continued dry-heaving, gasping for breaths between the liquor’s violence, then fell back into my arms as I sat behind her, holding her hair up each time she lunged forward.

“I’m gross.”

“You’re not.” I stroked a few tendrils back from her forehead.

“I’m dumb.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “We all do stupid shit here and there.”

“I’m also mean.” She tipped her chin toward the ceiling to see me better.

“Well.” I tucked my chin to my chest to meet her gaze. Those brown eyes of hers had stolen every piece of me before and were quickly proving to have lost none of their spell-binding charm. “I haven’t been nice, either,” I admitted.

The hint of a smile graced her lips right before she jerked forward and repeated the process of emptying every ounce of liquor she’d taken in and more. I glanced around the bathroom, scorning myself for having nothing feminine.

I’d change that tomorrow.

“Be right back.”

“Don’t leave—” She hurled into the toilet, and I fought against my instincts to stay by her side when she needed me.

Even after everything, I just…couldn’t do it.

Not while the alcohol was coursing through my system, softening my insides to putty that she’d be able to take more advantage of had she not drunk more than me.

I returned with a roll of twine I’d normally use on my plants and ripped a good foot or so off. Lyra was leaning on the toilet, her head sideways and eyes fighting to stay open. Taking the twine, I gathered her hair and wrapped it around, then tied it off.

“I’m really gross,” she muttered and hiccuped, then grimaced when she opened her eyes to find me cleaning up around the toilet. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop apologizin’.” I lifted her and closed the lid, then flushed the toilet with my elbow.

“Where’re you takin’ me?”

“The shower,” I replied as I set her on the counter.

I slowly worked her shirt up, grazing past her stomach, then pulling her arms through one-by-one before stretching the collar to fit over her head.

She swayed even as I held her there, removing her clothes, but she didn’t protest. Just stared at me like she was too hazed-out to fight or felt comfortable with me doing this. Touching her like I was.

“Gonna have to buy you more of these sets,” I said, more to myself than her, but she grinned and looked down at the lace as I peeled it from her perky breasts.

“You aren’t”—she hiccuped—“takin’ advantage of me now, Mr. Roland, are you?” Her finger traced sloppy hearts on my forearm, almost like she didn't know she was doing it.

“Nah, sweetheart.” I worked her panties down her hips, surprised when she could lift herself up enough to help. “I just wanna get you cleaned up so you stop feeling gross.”

She exaggerated her gasp. “My, my. How gallant of you.”

“Gallant ain’t the word I’d use.” I smirked as I kicked my clothes off and carried her into the shower.

She shivered as I twisted the handle and let the cold water fall and empty from the line. When steam started to rise, I stepped under, still cradling her in my arms. She was light, her hip bones visible in a way that made me wonder how many meals she’d missed before.

The mental checklist was growing, things I could do in this house to make her more comfortable when I should’ve been plotting ways to punish her for how she was making me feel.

“Are you starin’ at my naked body?” Even drunk out of her mind, she was the most sexy thing I’d ever seen. Her pink nipples hardened, begging to be sucked on and cut into with my knife. Instead, I stepped back, submerging us in a way that let the hot water glide from my skin to hers.

I tipped my chin toward the bottle of wash. “Can you reach the soap?”

She groaned and grabbed it, then popped it open and mimicked the sound with her lips, giggling as she poured it into her hand.

“Not even gonna answer me? I think I asked my question out loud.” Her brows dipped together, then she nodded. “Yeah. I did. I know I asked you if—”

“I’m always looking at you.” The soap stopped pouring into her hand, and her lips popped open. “But that isn’t happenin’.”

She dropped the bottle, letting it roll to where her body curved, right over her pussy, then dipped her finger into the pool of soap in her hand, using it like paint as she made hearts on my skin.

Her finger slid down between my pecs, tracing a line through several of my tattoos.

She moved onto her breast, swirling the finger around her nipple before moving on to the other.

“You sure?”

My cock had already been hard, so it was difficult to say the way the soap settled on her skin was doing me in. Everything she fucking did turned me on.

My jaw clenched as I nodded. “You’re drunk.”

“And? You can’t possibly be sayin’ you don’t fuck around while drunk.”

My brows lowered. “Doesn’t matter what I did before.

You’re different.” A heaviness was starting to lift from my chest. She was to the point where conversation and most of the night was going to be a blur, anyway.

I’d had enough of those nights to know. Letting out some of my clearly pent-up shit wouldn’t harm anyone.

Except, maybe me in the morning when this ended.

“You got really sexy, you know that?” She started massaging her breasts with the soap, and I fixed my hold on her, lifting her a little higher to make sure the head of my cock wouldn’t rub along her ass.

She giggled again and tried to shimmy to give her a look at my lower half, though most of her body blocked that from happening. “I bet he misses me.”

Fuck, did he ever.

“Lyra, stop.”

She pouted. “Noooope.” More giggles erupted from her lips.

I smirked. “Not drunk enough to say ‘no?’”

Her hands swiped along my biceps, working the soap into my skin. “I think you know I won’t ever say no to you, Mr. Roland. ” She emphasized my name, then held her hand up, pouting at her finger. “If I’m Mrs. Roland, don’t I get a ring?”

Hearing her say my name like it had truly become hers was like being driven to sudden, uncontrollable madness.

I wanted to fuck her, claim her, maim her, and destroy her.

I wanted to chain her hands to the bedposts and force her to take my cock while I covered her throat with my fingers.

And I wanted her to listen to me calling her Mrs. Roland while I made her coat my cock and balls in her cum. Then, I’d make her lick—

“You look like the Devil himself right now.” She snapped me from my daydream, saying ‘boop’ while tapping her finger on the tip of my nose.

“You have no idea.”

“Ooooh. I’m shakin’ in… your boots.” She laughed again. “Get it? ’Cause I’ve been wearing your clothes.”

I smirked at that. “I wasn’t lyin’ when I said you look good in them.”

She cupped her hands and gathered the water that streamed down my neck, then splashed it on my chest. “I like smelling like you all day.”

My brows lifted. “Thought you hated me?”

She gathered more water several times, her face dropping like the surrounding water—inevitably. “You hurt me.”

My eyes skirted to her knee, though the pain I’d caused clearly went deeper. “I know.”

“I…” Her eyes were glassy as they met mine, then darted away. “I think I’m done now.”

I wasn’t even sure what had happened to us to make her leave. But that mystery could go fuck itself tonight. She was here now, and I was fucking it all up. I’d spent years dreaming of her coming back, and now that she had, I’d been nothing more than an asshole to her.

Still, she stroked her fingers over my cheek. I fought the urge to lean into the touch. “Can you take me to bed?”

“Lyra, I’m not having sex with you like th—”

“No, just lay with me? Please?” Her eyes went all doe-like.

“I shoul—”

“I want you to hold me like you used to.”

Goddamn.

“You’ll hate me again in the morning.”

“Please?” Her voice broke.

You know that sensation when you get on a rollercoaster and go up and up, filling yourself up with excitement right before the inevitable fall and you’re scared shitless? You know it’s all comin’, but you still get on that damn ride.

That’s what hearing those words felt like.

“Yeah, I think I can do that.”