Page 77 of Star-Crossed
It was a welcome change to look out the window and see reflections of the stars in the harbor, rather than smog and light pollution. The peace of Townsend Harbor brought her comfort in ways she hadn’t realized she needed until now. The serenity of its salty air held sway over her heartstrings in a way she hadn’t expected, especially after living in a city where every moment seemed to be filled with chaos, noise, electric energy, and movement.
Too much, sometimes.
How had she ever preferred it to the tide lapping against the shoreline?
Sure, there were amenities in the city. Energy. Endless distractions. Money to be made. Things to see. People to impress. All of which she’d held a place for. All of which she’d chased.
But in this quiet moment, she had to ask herself—what would she do when she caught it? Would it ever be enough?
Weighed down by these questions, she returned to Cy’s bed and curled against his sleeping form, listening to the steady beat of his heart. If she were smart, she’d return to the apartment above Star-Crossed and figure out her next steps.
But she couldn’t bring herself to go. Not yet. She wanted to stay cocooned here a little while longer. To bask in the warmth and comfort she’d found, if only for a day. A week. A month. Longer?
Would she tire of the peace?
Her mind was quiet for once, not buzzing with plans and to-do lists. She wasn’t berating herself for her mistakes or perceived failures.
She was content.
She never realized how much that was lacking before.
The thought should have terrified her. But in the peace of this moment, she embraced it. Embracedhim.
Would the future take her from here? Maybe. But she knew now where a sliver of her heart would always live.
Here, in the shelter of Cy’s arms.
* * *
The next morning,Lyra woke to sunlight streaming through the windows and the rumble of Cy’s snores beside her.
She propped herself up on an elbow, studying his sleeping face. The hard lines had softened, making him appear younger and more vulnerable.
Last night came rushing back to her—the fire, the wreck, that exquisite intimacy they’d shared. Her cheeks heated at the memory.
Cy stirred, blinking open his eyes. For a moment he seemed disoriented, then he focused on her and smiled. “Morning.” His voice was gravelly with sleep.
“Good morning.” Lyra brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. “How are you feeling?”
“Hungry.” He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.
She leaned up and kissed his warm shoulder. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Better than I have in a long time.” He slid his hand down her back, cupping her rear as he urged her on top of him. “But I think I could use a bit more rest.”
Lyra laughed, bracing her hands on his chest. “Is that so?”
“Mmm. And I know just where to find it.” His hips rocked against hers, and she felt him hard and ready beneath her. “If you’re up for it, that is.”
“Lucky for you, I don’t have anywhere else to be except work.” She leaned down, nipping at his jaw. “Fuck work.”
With a growl, Cy flipped them over, pinning her to the bed. Lyra gasped as heat flooded her veins. She’d unleashed something primal in him, and she loved every moment of it.
“You’re trouble, you know that?” Cy’s voice was rough with desire. “The sweetest kind of trouble.”
“You love it,” she teased, curling her leg around his hip.
“I do.” He kissed her then, deep and claiming, as he slid into her waiting heat. “God help me, but I do.”
