carefully at first as though he was scared she might break. And then the hunger took over.
Her hands were weaving through his hair, she was pressing herself against him and his arms were wrapped around her, pulling her closer, forward and down so that now she was lying on top of him. His hand had slid up under the blanket, found its way expertly under the sweater and was running over the flat of her back, sending sparks all the way to her toes.
His belt buckle was digging into her stomach and she could feel his desire like white heat burning through the layers of their clothing. He tasted of cupcakes and cinnamon and as the kiss deepened she could feel his own hunger matching her own.
His touch, which had started tentative, was now demanding more. A lot more. Her fingers slid under his T-shirt, inviting it, feeling the washboard muscles of his stomach, the ridges of scars, and wanting to feel more.
His hands were cupping her face now, his fingers smoother than she was used to. Not like Lucas’s fingers, which had been rough and tender at the same time. She pulled away sharply at the contrast. But he had started kissing her throat now, his fingers holding her gently, careful of the bandage on her neck. His other hand had moved under the sweater again, was tracing her stomach, her rib cage, moving upwards. She drew in a long, deep breath, trying to suppress the shudder that followed it.
Lucas.
Cyrus’s hand instantly stopped moving beneath the sweater. His lips stopped kissing her neck. Evie froze, her eyes flashed open. Already she could feel the blood that had been spiralling out of control through her body redirecting to her cheeks.
Had she said that out loud? She’d been lost – imagining, pretending it was Lucas who was kissing her, who was sending shocks through her body, waking up parts of her she’d thought were permanently dormant. Oh, holy crap.
Cyrus sat up slowly, his arms sliding out from under the blanket. Evie brushed the hair out of her face and sat back, her heart stuttering. She couldn’t look at him. She edged to the other end of the sofa, pulling the blanket around herself. This was beyond embarrassing.
Cyrus didn’t say a word.
After what felt like minutes of stultifying, electrically charged silence during which she could feel him trying to get control of himself, to cool down, he stood up.
She waited for him to leave. He didn’t. Instead he dropped to a crouch right in front of her, looking up directly into her face.
‘Next time,’ he said, when he was sure he had her full attention, ‘it’ll be me you’re thinking of.’
And with that he stood up and walked out.
Chapter 40
Lucas had followed them. He had tried to tell himself he just wanted to keep her safe, but really he had needed to know for certain whether Cyrus and Evie were a couple.
But now he was wishing he hadn’t come. He stood on the roof of the bookstore clutching his hand to his side, grimacing at the image seared now on his mind of Cyrus’s hands running all over Evie’s body.
He should have burst in when he saw Cyrus pick up the copy of Hustler and indicate Evie to lie down on the sofa. Or when he’d started stroking her hair. But then Evie had been the one to sit up and he’d seen the desire on her face – he knew that look – and she’d kissed Cyrus. It hadn’t been the other way around.
Lucas had seen enough at that point. Had torn his eyes away and stepped back, towards the edge of the roof. They hadn’t even sensed him. That’s how completely wrapped up in each other they were. Evie hadn’t even felt him – though he was feeling her right now, could feel her heart racing, an echo in his own chest. He was even picking up a faint trace of her scent – mint and lavender and something sweeter like vanilla, though it was masked by the acrid fumes of blood and by Cyrus’s stronger scent.
Lucas’s hands were curled into fists by his side. He had an overwhelming desire to burst in right now, drop through the skylight and smash Cyrus’s arrogant face into the wall. He took a deep breath. Hurting Cyrus, appealing as that was, wasn’t going to achieve anything. Evie needed protecting. This realm needed protecting. Even if protecting Evie was something Cyrus clearly felt he