Page 16 of Puck Sweat Love

“Oh, well, thank you. But you didn’t have to rush,” she says, moving toward me. I catch the light scent of something floral mingled with a hint of sweat and have to fight the urge to lean in and inhale. “We have plenty of spare clothes hanging around.”

Pete clears his throat beside me. “Well, I’m back for more, Stephanie. And I think we should convince this big guy to stay, too. That way I won’t be the only dude in slow flow again.”

She laughs, a bright, unrestrained sound. “Aw, Pete, but you’re our favorite dude. And I think Steven is coming today, too.” She glances back at me, a sparkle in her eyes that a weak part of me likes way too much. “I think Tank should give himself at least a day to heal before he comes back to class. Don’t want to go too hard too soon.”

Oh, but I want to go hard.

Real hard.

Too bad that has more to do with Stephanie’s tight little body than a newfound love for yoga.

“All right, all right,” Pete says, clapping me on the shoulder. “Catch you later, Tank. Hope to see you in class again next week.”

Once he’s gone, Stephanie turns back to me with an expectant look I don’t understand until she smiles and says, “The pants? Did you want me to take them?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” I wince, feeling more awkward than I have in a long time. I pull the pants from my backpack and hand them over. “Clean. Even used a drier sheet instead of those static ball things I usually use.”

“Hot,” she teases.

You have no idea, I think. Aloud, I say, “Just the bare minimum. Nothing more.”

“Speaking of the bare minimum,” she says. “You were right. About my ex. I didn’t call him last night. I blocked his number, actually. Thanks for the wake-up call. Sometimes, seeing our situation reflected through a fresh pair of eyes can be really useful.”

“Glad I could help,” I say, unreasonably pleased to hear that Drake the dumbass won’t be bothering her anymore. “And thanks again for the class. I could feel a real difference this morning. I think this might be what I needed to loosen up before training camp.”

She brightened. “That’s awesome! I’ll be at camp, too. I’m teaching a recovery class every other afternoon, so I’ll see you around.” She gives my bicep a friendly nudge that makes me way too aware of how soft her skin feels against my arm. “You’ll be an old yoga pro by then.”

I grunt, then immediately regret it when she laughs. “Icanmake other sounds,” I offer in my defense.

Her grin only widens as she murmurs, “But why would you want to when you have such a wide variety of grunts on lock? That was your doubtful grunt, but no need for doubt. You’re going to be great. You were already doing really well last night, and it was only your first class.” She shrugs before adding, “Though I could always fit you in for a private session sometime if you’d like. Give you some one-on-one tips to help you feel more comfortable in the group class.”

I shouldn’t. I really. Should. Not.

Instead, I hear myself saying, “How much?”

“First one’s on the house,” she says with a breezy wave of her hand. “I like people to know what they’re getting into before they commit to an hour alone with me in my torture chamber.”

Alone.

That sounds way too good.

Hell, even the torture chamber part sounds okay.

But then, I’ve always enjoyed a little pain with my pleasure…

Stop. Bad thoughts. Bad, I admonish myself as I assure her, “You don’t have to do that. I’m happy to pay. You deserve to be paid for your time.”

“Like I deserve to have my boundaries honored?” she echoes my words from yesterday, but softly, ensuring none of the other students gathering their things from the cubbies can hear. “That was a nice thing to hear from a cranky alpha male type. I didn’t know if you guys had heard about boundaries yet.”

I grunt, then do something even more unexpected than booking a private yoga class.

I laugh. I laugh out fucking loud at the fact that I grunted again in front of this woman. Worse, she laughs with me, and suddenly it’s way too easy to imagine laughing with her over dinner. Or a walk on the beach.

Or in my bed after I’ve made her come so many times that we’re too tired to fuck anymore.

I’m in dangerous territory, but still, private lessons might actually do me good. I’ll be able to follow along a lot better in class if I already know what to do in each of the poses.

And if a group session is good for my bum body parts, a private one should be even better.

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