Page 85 of Ly to Me

What the fuck?

“You should have a few hours tomorrow morning, around ten.”

Hayes was silent for a moment. When he finally spoke, it sounded less official and more relieved. “Thanks, Carver. Appreciate it.”

The call dropped, and my words went flying. “Ten miles? That’s what you’re giving me? What if I need something out oftown? And in a week? You said if I go somewhere, I just need to tell you.”

Carver didn’t bat a single eye as he answered, “If you need to go somewhere, you will need to tell me because I’ll be the only one taking you.”

I crossed my arms and sank into the seat, counting down the minutes until we’d be back at the house. The air in the truck turned thick with silence, and as I watched his hands twist on the wheel, I knew whatever he was planning was going to break me.

That Carver-sized haze was still clouding my mind, wreaking havoc on my chest—as evidenced by the position he left me in. He'd worked in silence as I glared at him, tying me up to four different ropes in the middle of his barn—a rope for each wrist, and one for each leg settling just above my boots. All were clipped to metal loops anchored to the wooden walls. With how short the ropes were, my legs were spread more than a foot apart, and my arms were lifted above my sides. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable position to be in, but at least the fan above my head fought off the heat well enough.

Just as willing as I’d been last night, I let him leave me like this—for nearly ten minutes now.

The only thing he did before walking out was release both horses into the pasture. Guess whatever he had planned for me in this position wasn’t suitable for them to witness. In other words, I was fucked, probably both figuratively and literally.

He knew there’d be no fight. I’d left my fight—the little that’d remained—in the truck. The contract I signed gave him this very allowance, and although I wasn’t the best at following rules, a bigger part of me took over when he was tying me up. A more frightening part that I didn’t want to fight anymore.

I wanted to see him release a part of himself like he had on the porch. I wanted him to lose himself. To make me lose myself in him without fear. Just like how I agreed to be put into this position, he had agreed to drop everything and release me with a single word.

As fucked-up as it was, I trusted him.

I trusted Carver Roland with my life, and after last night, I believed it was more than my life I trusted him with. I only wished he’d let the past lie where it needed to lie—dead and never brought up again.

31

Carver

The Cross-Ties

The ride home had been full of inner-turmoil.

I didn’t once truly think she’d try to trap me. That wasn’t her M.O.

She preferred leaving after she got what she needed, and something told me a kid wasn’t in her pile of desires at the moment. I also wouldn’t consider it a trap.

Not with her.

Why she couldn’t just tell me she had an IUD or something still shook me. Plenty of women had them, but they were also vocal about it with whoever they slept with. I’d know, because most of the women I’d slept with before offered themselves up to me by stating they were on it, like it would coax me into their arms and prevent me from wearing a condom.

I didn’t lie to Lyra when I said I’d never not worn a condom before. I had a few kinks. Knocking women up had never been one of mine, but the thought of Lyra leaking my cum all day long was spurring me on. If that ended in a kid or two, or ten, I wouldn’t exactly be opposed to that.

I was careful while securing the ropes around her in the barn, just in case she was carrying our child, and like I’d said before, I didn’t want to hurt her. Leaving her like that, I walked back into the house, focusing on getting back to her while plotting out the questions I’d ask her in my mind. I sat on the couch in only my jeans and rolled a blunt. It was nothing like the work of Lyra’s meticulous fingers, but it would have to do to keep me from spiraling further.

Her lies were easy for me to distinguish, but her silence…it was fucking killing me. I just wanted her to talk to me, and to get Lyra to do anything—well, the measures I was taking were necessary.

As I walked down the porch stairs toward the barn, I could see her through the doors I’d left wide open, analyzing her surroundings like she planned to figure a way out that would cause me to chase her again. A smirk lifted my lips at the thought of catching her and fucking her raw in the mud, in the stream, on the barn floor, up against the railing—

Everywhere.

It wasn’t helping the whole spiraling issue.

“Figure a way out, yet?” I drawled as I walked in and slid the barn doors closed behind me.

Her brow arched. “You offerin’ to let me run?”

I leaned against the closest stall door and pulled the blunt from above my ear. She watched intently as I settled it between my lips and lit the end.