Page 79 of Star-Crossed
“Do you have any idea how hot you look?”
The heat of her breath sent shivers down his spine and set every nerve ending in his body ablaze. Suddenly, all he could focus on was the way her body felt against his, the soft curves pressing against hard angles. Desperate for more contact, he reached down and cupped Lyra’s ass through the peekaboo layers of her skirt.
“No,” he said, wondering if she could feel his pulse through her hip. “But I know how hot I feel.”
Which wasvery, and not in the good way.
“Tell you what.” A dark nail traced the contours of his lips. “We put in an appearance here, drop by the after-party at Raven Creek, then have an after-party of our own?”
Dropping his head, Cy lightly brushed a kiss across her lips. “I can’t think of a single thing I’d like better.”
“Good.” Thumbing a smudge of purple from his lips, she turned and threaded her arm through his. “Ready to scandalize the town?”
“The question is,arrrryou?”
Lyra’s nose crinkled in an adorable grimace. “I suppose I have only myself to blame.”
“Aye,” Cy growled, falling into step beside her. “Now let’s get this over with so you can walk me plank.”
“Aye, sir,” she said with a little salute that did nothing to cool his rapidly heating blood.
Townsend Harbor Horrorween Fest was in full swing. A sea of bodies in colorful costumes, frommorewitches and werewolves to superheroes and mythical creatures, milled about on the portion of Water Street blocked off for the festivities.
And despite his reluctance, Cy felt a swell of pride at the cozy, chaotic scene. He glanced at Lyra, who seemed equally enchanted by the lively atmosphere. Her eyes widened as she marveled at the elaborate decorations that adorned every shopfront and lamppost.
“Holy shit,” she whispered, her fingers tightening on his biceps. “I’d forgotten how the whole town turns out for this.”
“How long has it been since you’ve been home for one of these?” Cy asked.
She blew out a gust of air. “About a century?”
“Ah,” he said. “So you’re pretty much a festival first-timer.”
Not that he’d been much of a joiner since he wound up back here. Cy was never sure if age was making him more misanthropic, or if the festivities got more manic every year.
“I went to the fall fest,” she reminded him. “And look how well that turned out.”
“Oh yeah.” He gave her a theatrically curious look. “Weren’t you the one who predicted that fire?” he asked, loud enough for several tourists to hear and glance in their direction.
Lyra pinched the inside of his arm through the shirt’s thick fabric.
He shrugged. “Just trying to play the part.”
“Keep it up, and the only part you’re being playing with is—”
“Heeeeey, you two!”
They both spun around to see Cady racing toward them, a bright yellow ball gown flaring as she twirled the last couple steps and caught Lyra in a hug. Behind her came Fawkes, dressed in black trousers about as crotch-hugging as Cy’s, a regal blue jacket, and a crisp white shirt from which tufts of chocolate-brown fur sprouted.
They exchanged looks of covert suffering as Lyra and Cady gushed over the various details of each other’s costumes.
“Ugh, could youbea more perfect Belle?” Lyra said with mock disgust.
“Definitely,” Cady said. “But have you ever seen a more perfect Beast?” she asked, tucking herself against Fawkes’s side and pressing a palm against one massive pectoral.
On that point, Cy was inclined to agree. Having watched the movie in question at least fifty times with a never-ending parade of Disney-princess-obsessed foster sisters, the comparison was startling. Down to a scowl that looked like it might be the result of a hidden pair of canines.
“Fair warning,” Cady said, leaning into Lyra, “everyoneis talking about how you two single-handedly saved Vee and Myrtle’s place, so you should probably just prepare yourself for—”
