Page 23 of Star-Crossed
Because maybe this was it.
Maybe this was all.
The thought made Cy frantic with need. He wanted her with every cell of his body, with every breath and beat of his heart. He wanted her with all the life he had left.
He grasped Lyra’s waist and rolled them over until he was the one on top, memorizing the entire length of her body with the entire length of his. And still it wasn’t enough.
They clawed at each other’s clothes, desperate to feel skin against skin.
“Oh my God,” Lyra breathed against his lips when they finally came up for air.
“What?” he asked.
“I forgot how good you are at this.”
Cy stared down at her with something like wonder coloring in the space between his ragged breaths.
He’d beengoodat this.
Such a simple statement, but it careened into him with an impact that nearly dwarfed the one that had forever altered his body as well as his brain chemistry.
Cy sank back down to her with a growl, tasting her neck, her sternum, teasing with his tongue the hard, dusky peaks of her nipples before sucking one hard.
Lyra surged beneath him, driving her further into his mouth as she hooked her thumbs through the waistband of her shorts and panties and wriggled them down her thighs.
Cy couldn’t get his fingers there fast enough.
With their mouths still fused in rabid contest, he found her silky heat by feel alone.
She wassoaked. Hot, slick, and so ready that Cy damn near came in his pants.
Yet another of the high school symptoms Lyra’s presence seemed determined to resurrect.
As if sensing this, Lyra reached for the buckle of his belt, quickly freeing him.
Cy pushed himself onto his forearms, looking down into Lyra’s eyes just in time to see the smoldering lust shift into abject terror at the exact moment her fingers closed around his cock.
Not exactly the reaction he’d hoped for, but—
“God damn it, Larry!”
Something hard and sharp hit the back of Cy’s head, followed by an avalanche of smaller objects landing at various spots on his back and legs.
He instinctively shielded Lyra, waiting to look around until the barrage had ceased.
Larry darted away in Cy’s peripheral vision, leaping up on top of the bookcase as if to get a better vantage point to admire her handiwork.
Carefully, he shifted off Lyra, knowing that the moment hadn’t just been broken—it had been obliterated.
As Lyra’s spine straightened, she crossed her arms tightly over her chest, and her eyes narrowed at the round-bellied black cat serenely lapping at her paw.
“Who puts a shelf like that directly over a couch?” Lyra asked. The shift in her posture and energy was palpable, and her self-control snapped back into place as taut as a rubber band.
Cy couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment as she slipped back into clothing as efficiently as if he weren’t in the room. He shrugged back into his shirt and began to pick up the debris.
“So uh…” he said, breaking the silence that had settled between them. “I could take those plants home with me and repot them.”
Lyra glanced over at the sad, uprooted plants and then back at Cy. A hint of gratitude flickered in her eyes as she replied, “Okay, thanks.”
