“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she gets it all out.” I tossed my arm over the back of the couch, tapping my fingers along the top. Lyra’s eyes darted to them, and if I hadn’t been in the heat for so long, I’d be sure her thighs pressed together.
Helen’s brow arched, then she tugged Lyra’s head back and her eyes flared. “Well, bless your heart, I thought I recognized you. Now this all makes sense.”
Lyra’s throat bobbed. “What makes sense?”
Helen pointed between us. “You two went to Alliston High together, didn’t you?” Helen laughed and pointed to me with her comb. “And you—you were set to enlist with the Marines. Was that an eagle I saw on your back?”
My jaw worked. “It is.”
Helen hadn’t noticed how thick the air had turned after the rainstorm subsided, but Lyra sure had. “Well, glad to see your tour has ended, and you came back to this lovely little thing. I’m wrapping up now, but you have to let this sit for”—she checked her watch and peeled back the corner of a foil—“probably 45 minutes to an hour. And please, honey, don’t bleach your pretty hair anymore. It damages it more than you know.”
“She knows what damage she did,” I responded, earning myself another death glare from Ly.
“Well, good on you for having me come to her rescue. Your description of her hair color was spot on, so thank you for making the color match that much easier for me, Mr. Roland.” She patted Lyra’s head, making her look like a kid being scolded. “That young man over there definitely ain’t colorblind and must pay an awful lot of attention to you.”
“Too much attention,” Lyra agreed, folding her arms as Helen turned and started packing up. A small flash of red between Lyra’s thighs became exposed as she shifted. I cleared my throat, the air in the house becoming heavier as her hand fell to her thigh, those delicate fingers lifting the hem of her borrowed shirt. I flipped the cap on my head around, then stroked the back of the couch with two fingers as I locked onto her center, picturing my cock taking back what never should have left.
Lyra’s hand slid lower, then suddenly pushed the shirt between her thighs, covering herself. The way she smiled at me would look sweet to Helen if she turned, but I knew what my wife was really conveying—not yours.
We’ll see about that, sweetheart.
“Call me back in six-to-eight weeks just to check the new growth matches—”
“It’ll match.” I stood and got the door for Helen.
She beamed between Lyra and me, then settled on Lyra. “If it isn’t as dark as you wanted, I can make time to come back next week.”
Setting up that appointment regardless was almost too tempting. “Thank you for stoppin’ by and helping my wife.” Helen waved as she left, then I laid back on the couch and checked my phone.
Lyra huffed. “Didn’t want to tell meHelenwas dyeing my hair?”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
I slid my phone back into my pocket and laced my fingers behind my neck, giving me the leverage I needed to take in every inch of her exposed skin. “Wanted to see what you’d wear to answer the door.”
Her lips parted. “So, that’s what you want to do for the next thirty days? Fuck with me as much as you can, get into my head and rewire everything until I’m exactly how you want me to be?”
“What’d you do to my truck, little Ly?” Her cheeks turned red, contrasting so heavily with the foils that I had to fight back a chuckle at how adorably angry yet alien she looked.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything. So, what did you do? ’Cause I know you didn’t crash it or light it on fire.” The black paint glinted in the sun through the window. “Not a single scratch on the outside, either. So, what am I gonna find when I open the door?”
She glared through the window, probably wishing she had lit it on fire instead of whatever revenge she went with.
“You wanna know, then grab your goddamn keys and open the door.”
I settled deeper into the couch. “Nah. Think I’ll wait.”
“For what?!”
“For you to open it up and show me. To admit all the shit you did was you, and it had always been you. All. You.”
“Because you share none of that blame.” She huffed and left the room, slamming the bedroom door enough to rattle the walls.
TEN YEARS AGO
