“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 inyourmuddy 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 whoHelenwas and why the fuck she was coming here.
13
Carver
The Attention
Ihalf-expected to see Jamie’s UTV beside the barn after I was done tending to the horses, but it wasn’t there. Guess sometimes he could take a hint, as miraculous as that was. I knew keeping him away from the house to get the rest of his stuffwas out of the question—whether he waited thirty days to do so or not.
Truthfully, I planned on the fucker showing up.
Helen’s car pulled up, and I gave it a few minutes before heading inside. A strong breeze gusted as I opened the door, filling my nose with chemicals I never pictured having in my house.
“Mr. Roland.” Helen turned, spinning the barstool my wife was sitting in wearing one of my t-shirts.Onlymy t-shirt. “You didn’t tell your wife I was comin’? Poor thing’s underdressed.”
“Laundry day.” I couldn’t hide the grin as I took in the foils lining a portion of Ly’s hair and the scowl she gave. Her pouty lips protruded in a way that made my cock harden instantly. I took a seat on the couch and propped my feet up, hoping to hide it while getting a show.
Helen clicked her tongue as she glanced at my bare chest. “You young folk and never wearing clothes, I swear. Next time you have company, put on a shirt, and get your wife a pair of your boxers, at least. Something has to be clean in this beautiful house of yours.”
“It’s ’bout to be, Mrs. Helen.”
She nodded, pushing Lyra’s head down to add more foils. “It’s going to take at least an hour to wash all this out of your thick hair.”
