I bring her face two inches from mine. I can practically hear her heart beating quickly. Lowering my voice, I say, “Our bodies are works of art, wouldn’t you agree?” I slowly move my hands from her cheeks, down her sides, purposely grazing the sides of her perky tits before I pull her into me by her waist. She comes willingly, and I fight a groan at how perfectly she fits against me. “They’re meant to be seen…” I whisper in her ear, “…worshipped… appreciated.”
She sharply inhales, and her body trembles in my arms. My own throat is clogged with want. Desire for this woman who insists she hates me.
I inhale her scent, placing a soft kiss just below her ear. I continue touching her. Continue being in her presence. And the warmth that spreads throughout my chest is alarming, yet satisfying.
“And this body—your body?” I grip her ass with both hands, a soft moan escaping her pink lips. “It’s meant to be in the fucking Louvre. Sacred and beautiful.”
Her nostrils flare as her eyes light on fire, but her body remains stiff in my hands. Her ass is firm and tight from hours in the gym and yoga, but it’s her tension I need to ease. She obviously wants me but is fighting her desires. “Let loose for me, Em.”
Right when I think she might, her lips parted and begging me to kiss them, the door clicks behind me, so I let go of her ass but don’t step back. Her blush is too pleasing, her presence too magnetic.
She pushes on my chest hesitantly like I’ve paralyzed her.
As a couple enters and greets her, I grin and back away with my hands behind my back, begging them to stop wanting to touch her. To stop them from pulling her to me. My heart beats wildly in my chest as I take my usual spot in the back corner.
The rest of class is torture, with her ass in the air every time she gets into downward dog.
Plus, my yoga is still in need of major assistance. I’d like to think I’ve been getting better, but Leo’s comment yesterday about getting my kicks higher doesn’t make me feel great.
“Deep breath in…” Emma slowly stands from her position at the front and walks around to check everyone’s form.
I keep my head down, focused on tightening my core for balance, but I know when she’s close. I know it by the smell of the coconut lotion on her skin. I want to run my tongue up and down her soft skin like the salt around the rim of a margarita.
Bitter with a splash of sweet, just like Emma.
Not that her sweet side has ever been directed toward me.
The woman drives me wild with her stubbornness, but there’s also something soft and genuine about her. Perhaps it’s her Southern background or the way she always smiles at her customers to encourage them to push harder.
Except for me. No, when it comes to me, she just wants to push me over.
“Deep breath in… and exhale into the last of the vinyasa sequence.” Her voice strains as she gets back to the front and into position.
Her voice is soothing here, in her element, so unlike when I first arrived when she was wound up.
While the rest of the class peers at the ceiling, their eyes squeezed closed, I sit on my heels and watch Emma. Her eyes scan the room, my mouth watering like she’s a tall shot of tequila. Something I could use right about now to drown out these sexy thoughts of her.
This daydreaming is probably why my yoga isn’t worth a shit.
Emma glares at me from the front, reminding me to focus. I get into upward facing dog along with the rest of the class. Lifting from my hands, I puff my chest out, my legs outstretched behind me. Before she turns away, I believe she smirks, likely at my obvious discomfort. This pose stretches my abs in ways that aren’t meant for normal humans. It makes me want to vomit.
“Inhale… and exhale into child’s pose for a rest,” she instructs. “Stretch your fingers wide on the mat in front of you. Round your back. If your knees bother you, spread your legs farther apart.”
I do as she says, but the last part hardens my dick as thoughts of spreading her legs for me take over. She just has to teach yoga, doesn’t she? She couldn’t own a coffee shop or something equally boring?
She has to teach the sexiest form of exercise there is, aside from pole dancing.
“Breathe…” Her voice jolts me like she’s speaking right to me. Like we’re in the room all by ourselves instead of with fifteen others.
I lose my balance and tumble to the side, something I’d be embarrassed by, but two other guys already fell over two poses in. I’m a champion for lasting this long, especially in the state I’m in.
Emma glances at me with concern. No smirk or lifted eyebrow. Just concern.
I wink to let her know I’m okay and get back to my position. By the end of class, sweat runs down my shoulder blades, and I wonder what hot yoga would feel like. It would probably make me burst into flames.
As people file out, I linger, taking extra time and care to roll up my mat and readjust my dick to avoid scaring the young woman next to me. Emma stands at the door, complimenting people on their improved form and telling Jerry his tree pose is excellent.
Jerry’s pale skin blushes as he walks by her, ducking his head. I smile, knowing she doesn’t have a clue the effect she has on people. We’re peasants in her majesty’s presence.
My phone vibrates with an incoming message when I stand up. When I read the name, my heart sinks.
Naomi: I was thinking of coming to visit for a few days. ;)
Blinking at my screen, I try to make sure I read it correctly. She wants to come visit now? I blow out a frustrated breath. It’s not time.
Once everyone is gone, Emma closes the door and turns to me, snapping me out of my stupor. “I don’t have another class…”
“I know.”
“You know? Like you stalk me?”
“No more than you stalk me, sweet cheeks.” I grin, yoga mat in hand, phone tucked away for another day.
She rubs the back of her neck—a nervous tick. She’s obviously reacting to my nickname and starts to turn but stops herself. “Why are you here?” Stepping toward me, her face is full of hesitation, annoyance, and a little curiosity as her brows rise. “Why do you come to my class?”
“You mean other than the excellent, and very fine, instructor?”
The corners of her lips twitch as she waits for an answer.
“Leo and I have been talking about my dancing and how to improve. He said I need to work on my flexibility, and I thought this—”
She’s already shaking her head before I finish. “No, not here. Go somewhere, anywhere, else.”
I step closer, but she lifts her chin in defiance like she’s trying too hard to stand her ground—it’s cute, really. “Look, I’m a good dancer.”
She scoffs.
“I’m a good dancer,” I repeat. “But I’ve been lifting too much, and my hips need to loosen up. So yoga seems like a good fit, and you, aulelei, happen to be a good yoga instructor.”
She gulps at my words, then watches out of the corner of her eye as my finger twirls the end of her ponytail, toying with it.
“So I stand in the back while you teach a room full of people how to touch their toes. What’s the harm?” I grin in amusement, hoping she sees the twinkle in my eye.
She exhales, her jaw clenched. “I do more than that.”
“Duh. That’s why I’m here and not in Vegas or in my apartment with a yoga YouTube video.” I give her ponytail a slight tug, her small gasp another jolt to my cock as she visibly squirms. “I just like to give you shit, Em,” I whisper, my voice raspy.
She studies me like I asked her to do anything more than her job. “What does that word mean? What did you call me?”
“Beautiful,” I say without hesitation.
Her pale face quickly reddens. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
I throw my head back and laugh, shocked at her claim, but I don’t let go of her hair.
“I’m serious.”
“We’ll see about that.” I nod, taking in the thin line her usua
lly plump lips make. “What do you say about the class?”
She drops her hands to her sides like they each weigh a hundred pounds. “Your downward dog resembles the tabletop pose, and it’s painful to watch.”
I laugh again. This girl insists on keeping the firm line of hate between us.
Stepping away from me, her jaw is set, her eyes everywhere but on me. “Your upward facing dog needs work. Your arms should be straight, your chest flat in a vertical line like you’re pushing it against a wall.” She points to my mat, and all the work I did trying to hide my hard-on is useless. The thought of a private lesson with her is all it takes to get it back up.
I’m pathetic.
Or she’s that fucking sexy—I go with this explanation.
Once the mat is rolled back out, I sit on my knees. She pulls at my arms to straighten them in front, then stands behind me. “Okay, hands on the mat. Get into a plank position with your back straight, not sagging or rounded.”
I close my eyes, her bossiness encouraging even more dirty thoughts. Clearing my throat, I do as she says as best I can. “Like this?”
She places a firm hand on my lower back. “A little lower.”
I exhale and again do as she says.
“Now, bend at the elbows like you’re doing a push-up, but carry the movement forward.” She gets into a plank position next to me and repeats the motion, her toned triceps flexing. After the third time, I try it, but it’s not as good as hers.
I try it again and again until she compliments me, which makes my head spin for different reasons than before.
She took the time to teach me how to do it right.
Like she cares about me.
She stands over me, closer than I think, so when I get up, I bump into her and land flat on my back, bringing her down with me.
Her petite body is pressed against mine, her breasts on my chest. They push up with each breath, and I fight with my decency.
Breathless, she says, “I’m… sorry…”
“I’m not.” I fold my hands on her back, holding her close to me, her face mere inches from mine. From this close, I notice a small scar above her eyebrow, otherwise not noticeable, and her green eyes have hazel specks in them.
She takes my breath away.
“How’d you get this scar?” I gently run my thumb over it.
“A bicycle accident when I was ten,” she says, her voice strained. Her gaze darts back and forth like a pinball machine, and I wonder where it’ll land. What she sees being this close. If she likes what she sees. “Is that what you really wanted to ask?” She lowers her voice.
I shake my head slowly, my lips inches from hers, our rapid breathing in sync. She’s flush against me, and I wonder if she can feel me on her lower stomach, but her expression is unwavering. “Have a drink with me.”
She places her hands on my chest, gripping my shirt. “Excuse me?”
“A drink. Let’s go for a drink tonight.”
She gulps, seemingly contemplating my offer and all it means. A peace offering. One to shift the dynamic between us to where she doesn’t actively hate me.
I don’t normally care what women think of me. I am who I am, after all. Haven’t changed in several years—not since I learned how to use a chest press—and I’m not going to start now.
But the former nerdy kid inside me is coming out, vulnerability and all, as I wait for her response.
“I shouldn’t.” She closes her eyes, lifting off me.
And I let her.
Something I already regret.
CHAPTER 8
Emma
“Next time, then,” Ty offers as he stands. He’s over a foot taller than me. His presence is dominating.
Intimidating.
He’s all man, yet he’s playful and gentle. He can be, anyway.
And now he wants to change everything between us with what seems to be a date, which isn’t something I can do.
I can’t trust him.
I don’t date for a reason.
My heart and all its broken pieces won’t let me. They’ve banded together to keep me from being completely destroyed.
And Ty Alesana would definitely destroy me.
I’ve seen his playboy nature firsthand. Here lately, I’ve seen something else too. A darkness that surfaces every now and then when he thinks I don’t see him. Like when he checked his phone earlier. Guests were leaving, and I saw his furrowed brows as he rubbed his neck in frustration at his phone.
Probably a woman asking for a second date, or a date at all instead of jumping straight in his bed—God forbid.
These thoughts have me inching away from him. I wave, even though he’s only two feet from me, and grab my things. Tension in the air surrounds us, and he’s still standing in the same spot when I turn around. “I have to lock up.”
“Can’t wait to kick me out, huh?”
“Yoga makes men sweat and smell more than it does women, so yeah.”
He sniffs his shirt, then his armpits. I want to cringe, but I can’t help the laugh that escapes me.
“I smell like a bouquet of jasmine,” he says, then shakes his head. “Okay, I smell like the old Vegas Strip, Fremont Street. Basically, like piss.”
“That’s more like it.” I cover my small smile, pretending to be disgusted and then straighten back up as we make our way to the parking lot.
“Or Bourbon Street. Have you been there? To New Orleans? That smell beats even the nastiest of Vegas every damn time.”
My smile slowly dissipates. “Yeah, I’ve been there. And yes, you smell that bad.”
“When?”
“Now. You smell bad right now.” I push on his chest, so I can put my things in my trunk.
He rolls his eyes. “When were you in New Orleans? Please tell me you were there for Mardi Gras and earned a few beads by flashing those perfect tits.”
“No!” I exhale with a huff, my face heating. My head is ready to explode at his dirty mouth. “If you must know, I was there with my family. My dad, anyway. Him and his new family. They like to travel and used to take me with them.”
I’m even more annoyed now that he made me think about my father and his new life. The one he lives without me. I try to get around Ty, but he gently grabs my forearm and stops me. Before he can say anything, several people file out of the kickboxing studio next to mine. They cause a commotion before dispersing to find their own cars. Biting my lip, I watch them one by one as the instructor, Tarryn, emerges.
Her strawberry blond hair is pulled tightly into a low bun, and her magenta tank matches the stripes down her spandex leggings. She’s two years older than me. She’s also been here for a couple years longer than me and had a great relationship with the last owner of the yoga studio.
With me? Not so much.
“Hey there.” Ty’s greeting jolts me, and he lets go of my arm. But when I turn to him, he’s not directing his words to me. He’s looking at Tarryn.
She stops in her tracks a few feet from us. The parking lot is small, something I was concerned about at first, but I worked around it. Mostly by scheduling my classes around Tarryn’s since she’d already been established.
But even that hasn’t seemed to please her.
Ty meets her in a couple strides before extending his hand. “I’m Ty, and might I just say, your brown eyes are stunning. And the magenta? Excellent choice.”
What is he doing?
“Oh… I… thank you. I just bought this. It was expensive, but I couldn’t help myself.” She giggles into the palm of her hand like she just told him she’s not wearing any underwear.
What the fuck is happening?
“Well, kudos. You nailed it.” He holds his arms out and gives her a once-over. It makes my stomach sink. Then he gestures toward me. “You know my friend Emma here, right?”
“Yes, hi, Tarryn. We’ve met.”
Her lip twitches at me, only a hint, but she full-on grins at Ty. “Listen, I have another class in a few minutes, but
it was great meeting you. And Emma, a pleasure.”
If I wasn’t an adult, I would childishly mock her behind her back. A pleasure? Seriously? What a stuck-up bitch.
But I am an adult.
So instead of mocking her or pulling her hair out for ogling Ty, I smooth my tank down and turn on my heel back to my car. But Ty doesn’t follow me.
When I turn around, he kisses the back of Tarryn’s hand, and I notice her blush from where I stand.
He backs away from her slowly, my chest growing heavier with each of his steps in my direction.
“You should—”
“What the fuck was that?” I cut him off, not caring to lower my tone or simmer my attitude.
He cocks an eyebrow, and all I can think about is how badly I want to shave it off in his sleep. How badly I want to knee him in the balls right now.
How badly I want to rewind the last fifteen minutes and instead of declining his offer for drinks, I accept it.
He starts to say something, pauses, then shrugs. “We’re having drinks later since I leave town tomorrow morning.”
“Like a date?”
He crosses his arms and studies me. “Yeah, like a date.”
I open my mouth but shut it before I say anything else stupid. Like how I don’t want him to go on this date, especially not with she-who-hates-me.
Clenching my jaw, I get in my car and start the ignition. My car roaring to life almost muffles Ty’s goodbye, but I don’t pause. He’s in my periphery, standing close to my driver’s side window, and I peel out of my spot, hoping to run over his foot.
Hoping to make him feel as broken as he just made me feel.
I drive in silence back to my apartment, the only sounds coming from cars honking around me when the light turns green, and the first car doesn’t move.
Normally, I’d be one to lay on the horn, but right now, I’m in a fog.
How easily Ty moved on after I said no to drinks. He picked up the next woman he saw, literally. And on my turf, right by my studio.
Which is why I can’t trust him. He’s too much of a player, something I’ve known since the night we met. He’d asked me to dance, kissing the back of my hand like it’s his thing he does with every woman, and then left me the moment I declined.
Let Loose for Me Page 4
