Page 60 of Ly to Me

A paper taped to the door forced me from the bed as a pit formed in my stomach. I expected the note to be from him, but the words on it were not ones I thought I’d see.

Image of a note, which reads: Ly, Breakfast is on the kitchen counter. Hope you still love bacon. I have to work today, but when I come home, I’m taking you out. Take my card into town. Buy something you can dance in. I’d tell you to take my truck, but I think we both know that’s not a good idea for Article 1. Be back at 5. Car

My fingers traced over his signature before they slid down to the credit card taped to the bottom. I worried down on my lip as I stared down at the plastic, surprised that my first thought wasn’t how much I could spend on it, but rather, the reason why he’d left it.

He was taking me out…on a date?

Maybe it was to show the rest of the town that we were, in fact, married. I knew he wrote those articles to make me squirm. That’s what he was doing. He wanted to test me. And Article Three said he could give me fundsas he sees fit.

I sighed in exasperation and walked with the paper to the desk when another piece of white paper stole my attention. I dropped the note to the surface and bent to collect the other from the floor. As I held the crumpled paper in my hand, my eyes wandered to the stack on the desk, then back to the words scrawled in front of me.

Worry clogged my throat.

I’d finally pushed him over the edge of sanity that he seemed to teeter on. He was done with me or done with our contract, or both. My knees buckled, and I reached to the chair for support, uncertain which one was worse.

And that feeling, that thought of utter unease, only bloomed more while I showered and ate the breakfast he'd left out for me. I even sniffed the bacon and searched the counters, checking for poison or drugs.

Something.

But found nothing. It even tasted really damn good.

I felt like a doe with nowhere to hide on the first day of hunting season, and Carver was the most skilled hunter I knew of.

Five o’clock came faster than I hoped for. I’d left the front door open, too on edge to want to hear any loud or sudden noises as I sat on the couch that faced the rest of the house.

What if he tied me up again, but did it in public? I didn’t know what his plans were. I didn’t even know if my being here was moot now with the contract in a ball. But, it wasn’t shredded, and as thorough as Carver had been when we were teens, I was forced to believe that meant our agreement was still valid.

“You’re okay, Lyra. Stop worryin’ your heart out,” I murmured to myself, my fingers twisting in my lap. “Breathe.” I took a deep breath, the green floral sundress I’d bought earlier in the day expanding with my chest, the strings tied into bows on top of my shoulders sagging with my exhale. I bent over my knees, the leather boots with wildflowers embroidered on them shining from the light still pooling in through the windows.

The creak of wooden floorboards made me stiffen, but when no voice came, I adjusted myself and gathered the courage to look at the door right as it clicked shut.

Carver was leaning against the wall by the door, dirt covering his shirt and jeans, lining the edges of his fingernails and hands that rested over his bulging biceps as his arms crossed. My throat ran dry as my eyes wandered from his backward-facingball cap to the bits of dark hair that stuck to his sweat-slicked skin and finally landed on those atala eyes.

Dirt lookedgoodon him.

“Wife,” he growled, his eyes doing the same as mine. “You saw the note.”

The note.I cleared my throat and straightened in my seat, clasping my fingers together on my lap, discreetly pushing the fabric of my dress between my thighs.

“I did.”

He continued his perusal of my body, reminding me of the way he looked yesterday when his cock was buried in the back of my throat. My thighs involuntarily clenched together and the edge of his lip curled at the movement.

Carver pushed off the wall and closed in on me. His breath warmed over my skin as he bent down, surrounding me in a sweet floral scent that went well with the oak and leather he toted. I all but melted further into the couch as he took the ends of my hair and twirled it gently between his fingers.

“You look absolutely edible.” His lips skirted over the sensitive flesh along my neck, right beneath my ear. I whimpered as my eyes shifted lower, noticing the strain in his jeans as he towered above me, bracing himself using the back of the couch.

“Car—” I froze, the reminder that I wasn’t supposed to call him by his nickname buzzing in my head. I expected fingers around my throat, and my pussy throbbed at the thought.

Something was seriously wrong with me.

Instead, his lips pressed sweetly to my collar bone right before he stood and took a step back. “Gonna go shower.” He winked, and then he was gone.

My palms were damp, and my breathing was completely out of sync with the stillness of the room. Was I in a dream? I pinched my skin, over and over, then did the same check with my eyes—shutting them tightly and snapping them back open. But nomatter what I did, I was still sitting in his beautiful home, on a comfortable, homely beige couch, in new clothes that were all mine.

Safe had never been in my vocabulary. Not even when Carver and I had been together ten years ago. I always knew, at the end of the day or when the weekend was over, that I’d be back at home, sitting on pins and needles waiting for Chet to be back.

For the first time in my life, I felt a flicker of that word come and go, like a taunting gust of wind on a hot summer day. I forced myself to focus on the glass Carver made me kneel in, the way he’d chased me through the woods, and the way he’d forced himself inside me. The way he’d just dressed up what he’d previously calledtrashand expected me to wait on him to get ready.