Page 14 of Late to Love

“Sure thing.” But how hard can yoga actually be? I work out. I run. This is bending and shit. Piece of cake.

Willa waves to me and I make my way toward her, nodding to Goldie and Matty as I go.

“You’re here,” Willa says, indicating the mat in front of her. “We would have put you beside one of us, but there’s no room.”

We say our hellos and I realize that not only has Reid let Midnight down to walk among the mats, but Matty’s dog, Killer, is also running around. “Is this allowed?” I ask, eyeing the little chihuahua as he saunters up to sniff at my feet.

“Mr. Hall, what a surprise.”

I look up and double-take, because there, in front of me, is Darcy. In a pair of fitted shorts that molds to her luscious ass and a top that bares most of her creamy stomach. The shorts nip in at her flesh, and I fight to hold back the groan that begs for release. “Anthony,” I grit out, my name the only thing I trust myself to say right this moment.

She brightens. “No, I’m Darcy.You’reAnthony.” Her saucy grin tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing.

Brat. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say it again, but I keep it to myself. “You…do yoga?”

“Starting to. I’ve never seen you here, though—how long have you done it?”

“First time.”

Reid joins us, slapping me on the back yet again. “I’ve been trying to get Grumpy Gus here for months. I finally wore him down.”

Darcy snorts as Samantha calls the class to order, and as I look around to figure out what I’m supposed to do, she leans over from the mat beside me. “Just go slow. Don’t force anything, and feel free to watch me if you need to see how to get into position.”

It’s impressive, the way she can say sentences like that without blushing. I nod once, determined not to look at Darcy at all if I can help it, and turn my attention back to Samantha.

Exactly five minutes later, I’m mentally cursing Reid. Because this is absolute torture. I am not limber by any stretch of the imagination, and it turns out that yoga requires a shitload of that.

I can do this. Iwilldo this. I won’t be beaten by something as easy as yoga.

Ten minutes later, I’ve changed my tune. Samantha’s voice is probably meant to be soothing as she says, “And fold up, arms swinging high overhead, exhale as you lower your arms to your side. Good. Now turn your entire body so that your feet are facing the wall on the right, then spread your legs wide, hands on your hips. Inhale. On that exhale, bend over at the waist, keeping your spine straight as you lower the top of your head to the floor.”

Lower the top of my head to thefloor? She’s got to be fucking kidding. But I turn into position anyway and immediately groan. Because in front of me is Darcy’s gorgeous butt, right at eye level as I attempt to keep my spine straight.

“Bend a little more, Mr. Hall,” Darcy teases in a low voice.

I startle, then realize that she’s looking at me from between her legs as she rests the top of her head on the floor, smirking. She definitely caught me looking where I shouldn’t.

Fuck. Me.

I didnotneed to know how flexible Darcy is.

Ever.

Does she look a little crazed, the way she’s giving this maniacal grin at me, blood rushing into her face? Yes. But also: her ass and thighs are right. Fucking. There.

I’m a pervert.

My cheeks blaze as I avert my eyes and try to do more than look like an overgrown baboon, but it’s pretty bad.

I spend the entire ninety minutes in a state of tortured panic. Torture because yoga is, it turns out, hard as fuck, and panicked because Darcy herself is hot as fuck.

It’s not a great combination for me right now. I’m fully aware that everyone is here for their mental and physical health. They most definitely are not here to be leered at. But try telling that to my eyes, who can’t stop glancing at Darcy and imagining whether any of these yoga positions can be converted into sex positions.

I know. I’m a terrible human being.

When class ends, I’m a sweaty, sore, mentally fucked in the head mess. I beeline for the front, my rolled-up mat in my hands to give to Samantha as I shove my feet back into my sneakers.

“What did you think?” she asks, her voice chipper and a little too interested.

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