Page 15 of Star-Crossed
“Here’s what we’ll do,” he said, leaning against the windowsill and bending out to check the structure as well as the tree.
“What?” Lyra looked up from where his t-shirt hiked up and the waistband of his sweats crept low beneath the two dimples at the base of his spine.
Never in her life had she prayed for plumber crack.
But what was going on beneath the cotton pants was like two round, firm Christmas hams, and Lyra couldn’t remember an ass so fine in recent recorded history. Even his from back in the day.
Not that she’d watched it during the mind-numbing football games she had to sit through for marching band. His hindquarters had been amazing then, but now?
Made sense that climbing trees for a living or whatever really worked those glutes.
As if sensing her regard, he turned to face her, settling his butt onto the windowsill to hide it from her lecherous view.
“I’m going to lever out here and push Larry’s flimsier branch closer to the stable limb further back into the alley. What window is that?” He jutted his chin over toward the back of the building.
“That’s my bedroom window,” Lyra replied. “Temporarily.”
Their eyes caught and held.
“That limb runs beneath your window,” he said, his voice the furthest thing from businesslike. “I’ll use a switch to entice Larry to hop the shortened distance to the larger branch and use it to climb in your room.”
Lyra swallowed around a dry tongue as he scooted his body out into the night until only his knees were caught on the windowsill, holding him in place as he reached for the branch.
The sight nailed Lyra’s feet to the floor.
Abs. OMG. So many abs mounded beneath the thin, tight tee as Cy engaged his core strength to stabilize himself as he shoved the branch over toward its bigger neighbor.
A panty-drenchingsplooshsent her racing from the room and into her own.
She took a few gulps of non-Cy-scented air before shoving the window open and bending out to entice the cat into the house.
Larry meowed plaintively, but had enough presence of mind to see the opportunity for what it was. Without much prodding, the cat pounced on the larger branch.
“It’s working!” Lyra couldn’t keep a note of victory out of her voice as she glanced over to—er—where Cy had just been.
He was already sliding Gemma’s bedroom window shut.
“Come on in, Larry,” she coaxed. To her astonishment, the cat trotted along the limb with the reflexes of his much younger, slimmer self.
A strangled noise cut through the night.
This time from behind her.
Lyra glanced back to see Cy filling the doorway with his wide shoulders, boots planted to the floor in a stance both innately confident and overtly sexual.
She couldn’t see his eyes in the shadows, but the caress of night air on the backs of her bare thighs felt like his gaze.
Straightening, Lyra narrowly missed braining herself on the window before she whirled to face him.
He’d made it halfway into her bedroom.
By the time she remembered one goddamned word of her native language, he was towering over her. The streetlamps cut intricate shapes into the angles and planes of his strong, dark, broad features.
He bent at a slight angle, just low enough for his face to hover close to hers…
Before he scooped Larry off the windowsill and curled his strong arms around the portly cat. “Well, this explains a lot.” His lips parted into a shockingly white grin. “Looks like Larry’s gonna be a mama soon.”
“What?” Lyra gaped down at the cat’s swollen belly as realization dawned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
