Page 23 of Sinful Lies

My yoga instructor, of all people.

At five-foot-eight with surfer hair and brown eyes, he had a vibe so laid back he practically melted into the floor. He was Australian—hence the nickname—which somehow made everything he said sound charming. He was also very much not part of New York’s upper crust, which was a bonus.

We’d met in his hot yoga class two weeks ago.

By class three, I was pretty sure he’d spent more time correcting my form than anyone else’s.

By class four, he’d asked me out.

And by date one, well… let’s just say he had made me laugh—a rarity these days—and the next thing I knew, I was in his bed, rediscovering just how fun a goodridecould be.

I gave him a quick once-over: crooked tie, easy grin, the slightest hint of smugness that I didn’t totally hate.

“Thanks, Aussie,” I said, taking the red roses.

Not the most original choice, but at least he wasn’t empty-handed.

I wished they were red dahlias though.

I set the bouquet on the counter, grabbed my keys, double-checked for my phone and lip gloss, and got out.

The door clicked shut behind me as I turned back to him.

I pouted. “Is this my only present?”

“Well, you’ll have to wait,” he said, his voice smooth, almost teasing. “But first, let me take you dancing, princess.”

And that’s the moment I knew.

After tonight, I wouldn’t be seeing him again.

The way he spat out “princess” made my skin crawl.

I almost turned around right there, locked myself in my apartment, and threw up.

But it was my birthday, and I hadn’t been out dancing in so long.

I needed a little fun back in my life, so I decided to follow him—begrudgingly—to the elevator and into the cab.

The whole time, I was silently praying that the club he’d chosen wasn’t as lame as he was.

Aussie may have had a disastrous personality, but at least he had good taste in clubs and women—after all, he was afterme.

He guided me through the crowd, his hand lingering on my lower back.

People were dancing, singing, and having the kind of fun I hadn’t realized I was missing.Exactlythe vibe I needed.

When we reached the bar, I leaned against it and ordered a margarita—extra lemony—and Aussie went for a beer.How original.

“Have I told you already how fucking hot you are tonight?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Only tonight?”

He grabbed my hand and kissed the top. “Every day, princess. But tonight? You shine brighter than a disco ball.”

I glanced down at my dress—sparkly silver, sinfully short, with a perfectly fitting bustier.Dolce & Gabbana.

“I mean, I am the star of the night, after all.”

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