“Now, using your hands on the mat, walk your palms backward through your legs and try to touch the back of your mat, puuulling your head closer to the floor,” she instructs, and I sink lower, concentrating on my breathing… until I feel it.
My eyes pop open, and from upside down and between my wide-legged straddle, I see Neil watching me, his eyes molten blue lava as he stares at my ass.
No.
Not at my ass.
As he licks his lips and his nostrils flare, sweat dripping profusely down his temples, his white tee clinging to his ripped, huge body as he sits on his mat, the bottle of water halfway lifted to his lips but stopped midair, I know he’s not just staring at my ass.
He’s staring at the very center of me. The core of my body, and from his eye level and nearness, I know… I just know… he can see I’m wet, and not from sweat. And from the way he breathes in deep, his eyes going half-mast, I have to wonder if he can even smell my arousal. The arousal I caused my-damn-self by taunting him, provoking him, showing off for him for no other reason than I love how he looks at me in that heated way. A way no man has ever looked at me before—like he wants to eat me alive and protect me all at once.
I barely hear it when Destinee urges, “Keep breathing, and just sink into that position.” And it’s a good thing, because it makes me realize I was holding my breath while I stared at Neil, staring at my pussy.
I feel lightheaded, and not because I’m turned upside down on my head. I used to hold this position in a handstand for minutes on end. It’s because the look on his face doesn’t do anything to hide just how tightly he’s having to white-knuckle grip the reins of his control, because he clearly—oh… so clearly—wants to either launch himself forward face-first or take hold of my hips and pull me back toward his awaiting mouth.
“Great job, y’all,” Destinee says, and there’s a collective exhale throughout the room as everyone relaxes down onto their mats.
I bend my knees and sink down onto my ass, my heart thrashing inside my chest as the sexual tension and workout catch up with me. I sit cross-legged, risking a glance into the mirror to see Neil behind me, staring straight ahead at me, and I blink and snap my attention forward, listening as Destinee walks us through a cooldown routine.
Unfortunately, it does nothing to cool down anything but my arms and legs, because everything from my mind down to the very core of me is still fired up, since I can’t get the look on Neil’s face out of my head. Even when she has us lie down and sink into a savasana for the last few minutes of class, I can’t relax into corpse pose and clear my mind, because when I close my eyes and even out my breathing, it makes me picture him even more clearly.Chapter 5AstridNeil and I don’t speak a word to each other on the way out of the class. I thank Destinee, telling her I loved it and would definitely be back, and then I’m busting through the glass double doors, practically running toward the staircase and feeling like a predator is behind me as Neil’s long stride keeps him on my heels at a more leisurely pace. I snatch up a white hand towel from the stacks at the head of the stairs, wiping my face and chest as I grip the handrail and hurry down the flight of steps.
My legs are shaky and weak, and I know it’s not just because of the hundreds of squats I just did in the barre class. I walk to the desk where Johnna is smiling as we approach, hurrying through the conversation about how much I loved the class, and I ask if they mind if I take the hand towel home, promising to bring it back on my next visit. She tells me that’s fine after giving me a funny look, and then Neil adds that he’ll put me on his membership account online when he gets home. With a quick goodbye, I’m out the doors and heading to his big SUV we came in, yanking on the handle when I get there, but it’s locked.
I give him a little frown as he approaches, hearing the locks disengage once his big hand is on the shiny silver handle. He pulls the door open for me, watching as I spread the towel on my seat, my face flaming with embarrassment, as I step up on the running board to lift myself into the seat. He closes the door as I’m putting my seat belt on, and soon he takes the place behind the wheel and turns on the truck. My skin feels like it’s crawling, being trapped inside the enclosed space with him, but not in the uncomfortable, creepy way. In a “he’s so close and all I want to do is jump across the center console and straddle his face” kind of way.