23. Chapter 24
Chapter 24
CHARLOTTE
I try and wrap my head around the fact that I’m here, in a yoga studio with Chris for a private couple’s session on our first real date, because it’s something I enjoy when he could’ve chosen nearly anywhere else to take me. The forethought and insight sink inside my chest, stirring up my conflicting emotions. It’s the reason I’ve been avoiding Chris all week?not because I don’t want to see him or because I’m uninterested, but because I don’t know what to do with these feelings ballooning inside my chest. They seem to have a life of their own—shifting and growing and taking shape without my permission—and that scares me more than anything.
The second we step inside the studio room where our yoga instructor is waiting for us, a wall of heat hits me like a tsunami. The thick and humid air wraps around me, clinging to my skin and making it feel like every breath is both an inhale and a release. The dim lighting casts soft shadows on the walls and the rhythmic hum of soothing music blends with the gentle shuffling of mats being rolled out, creating a tranquil, almost meditative energy.
“Whooo!” Chris exhales loudly beside me, pinching his hoodie and shaking it out. “Fuck, it’s hot in here.” Then, turning to me, his expression is pinched as he says, “I think the thermostat is broken.”
I laugh at his fevered expression. “It’s hot yoga, genius.”
“What? Shit.” He shakes his hoodie out some more, before he tears it up and over his head, rewarding me with the sight of his biceps and chest in a tank top. “This isn’t just hot,” he says, slightly out of breath. “it’s straight up an inferno in here.”
“Chris,” the yogi, Vi, greets us, a smile tipping the corner of her lips as she extends a hand to him. “And this must be the lovely Charlotte,” she says, glancing at me next.
“Nice to meet you.” I smile accepting the hand she offers.
“Chris tells me you practice yoga?”
I lift a shoulder, fidgeting slightly because when I told Chris I like to do yoga, I wasn’t lying, but I’m no expert, and I hope she doesn’t expect me to be. “Some,” I say, sounding uncertain even to my own ears.
“Well, today we’re not going to be practicing your typical yoga. Instead, we’re going to do a couple’s session with a very specific form of yoga meant to enhance the connection between partners.”
I shift on my feet, glancing up at Chris warily as Vi continues, “So, this will be a little more impassioned than what you’re used to. How long have the two of you been intimate?”
“Intimate?” I choke out. “Uh . . . Er, actually?”
“It’s fairly recent,” Chris butts in while I gawk helplessly at him. “I mean, Charlotte’s been on my case for a while. She’s very persistent like that. It didn’t matter what I said. At one point, I was even like no, Charlotte, I’m not interested in a relationship right now, and I don’t want a casual fling. I’m just not that guy , you know? But she badgered me for the better part of the year, and here we are.” He shrugs, giving her a sheepish smile while I stare at him with a scowl.
Vi nods, her expression serious as he continues to spew his bullshit.
“Finally, I caved. I mean, look at her.” He motions up and down my body while I roll my eyes. “I’m only human.”
“We’re not intimate,” I cut in.
“Lettie, baby,” he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, “you don’t have to deny it. It’s okay. This is a safe space.” Then to the instructor, he whispers behind his hand, “She has trouble admitting vulnerability.”
“Oh, yes.” Vi hums, her gaze bouncing between us with knowing eyes. “Well, this will be an excellent exercise for her.”
My stomach tightens. “I do not have trouble admitting vulnerability.”
Chris pulls a face, casting me some serious side-eye.
“Well, even if you do, there’s no harm in admitting it,” Vi says in a way that lets me know she believes everything coming out of Chris’s mouth and none of what’s come out of mine. “But we’ll see if we can work on it, shall we? Are you up for the challenge, Charlotte?” she asks, her questioning gaze taking me in.
“Yeah, Char, you up for the challenge?” Chris parrots, smiling like a loon behind Vi’s shoulder.
Great. So, if I say no, then Vi will really think I’m in denial about my inability to be vulnerable.
I grit my teeth, barely able to speak the words, “Of course.”
“Wonderful!” Vi claps her hands, then instructs us to get comfortable by taking a seat on the mats she’s laid out for us while she changes out the music.
Cutting Chris with one final dirty look, I pick a mat and lower myself down as another blast of heat hits me.
I hiss out a breath, inhaling the sticky air. It’s hot in here, even for me, and when I glance over at Chris, he’s fanning his face.
“You okay, there?” I ask with a smirk.
“Not even a little.” He leans closer and whispers, “Is this normal? Maybe she wants to kill us? You know, I never did have time to check her Google reviews,” he says, pinning her with a stare.
“You’re such a baby,” I say before I reach for the hem of my hoodie and take it off, revealing a tiny tank top the same blue shade as my leggings.
Chris stares, the darks of his eyes expanding as they flicker over me. “Forget everything I just said. Hot yoga is my new favorite.”
I snicker, pulling the hair tie off my wrist and yanking the front half of my hair up, so it’s out of my face. “Can I help you?” I ask, my tone more than a little smug.
“Huh? What?” Chris blinks, his expression dazed.
“You’re staring,” I point out.
Chris scrubs a hand over his face before he huffs out another breath and stands, removing his tank top in one swift movement, followed by his sweats, leaving him in nothing but a pair of compression shorts.
My jaw drops, gaze raking down his body and drinking him in like a cool glass of water, only instead of cooling my insides, he incinerates them. I already knew Chris had an amazing body but seeing him?almost all of him?in the flesh is far different from the picture of him in my mind. It’s so much better.
Broad, muscular shoulders lead to massive biceps, a trim waist, defined pecs and abdominals, and an Adonis belt earned from hours of working in the gym. Not to mention his muscular thighs. There’s not a body part on Chris that isn’t cut and carved to perfection. Everything about him is impressive.
I swallow, shoving down the urge to fan my face when Vi interrupts our moment. “Okay, then! I’m going to lead you through a couple of exercises to get the blood flowing and awaken the body . . .”
“My blood’s flowing alright,” Chris mutters, and I choke out a laugh.
Both of us follow Vi’s instruction, bending and twisting and stretching on our own, and I have to admit, Chris isn’t half bad. I expected him to be clumsy, but his athleticism shines through his movements, especially when she guides us into poses together, where we link our arms and use our weight to hold each other up, moving together into positions not unlike a game of Twister.
Vi guides Chris into a position similar to downward dog while helping me place my feet on his hip bones in some kind of weird move that reminds me of something the cheerleaders at my high school did once.
“Just breathe through the movement,” Vi says. “Find your calm. Let your thoughts go,” Vi’s voice soothes even as my muscles burn. “Feel the stress melt away as you focus on nothing but harnessing your inner spirit while you meditate.”
I squint my eyes open, and I’m rewarded with a fabulous view of Chris’s muscular arms. Sweat beads off his brow and down his back, and all I can think is thank god for hot yoga when he catches me staring and winks.
I pinch my mouth together, focusing back on the pose until Vi instructs us to release our position and come back to our mats. Chris sits cross-legged directly opposite me when Vi tells me to sit in his lap with my legs wrapped around his lower back.
A smirk curves the corners of his mouth as I stare at her, blinking as if I heard her wrong.
Chris clears his throat in the silence, and when I glance at him, his smirk tells me he can sense my nerves. With a tip of the chin, he beckons me. “Come over here, Lettie girl.”
Exhaling, I stand and do as I’m told, straddling Chris’ waist. “Don’t even say it,” I mumble, feeling my cheeks heat.
“Don’t say what?” He smirks. “That I knew you’d mount me by the end of the night?”
I grunt and settle in, ignoring the feel of him beneath me, far too aware he’s practically naked.
“Now, you’re going to stare into each other’s eyes,” Vi says, her voice soothing. “This move is about deep intimacy.”
I take a deep breath, trying to shake my nerves as I sink into the cool waters of Chris’s gaze. The room falls silent; the only sound is our breath mingling and my pulse drumming in my ears.
The dark blue flecks around Chris’s eyes deepen with the intensity of his gaze while I melt into his hold on me. His arms tighten, one hand coming up to brush a lock of hair from my eyes as my gaze drops to his mouth.
“Work on your breathing,” Vi says, her tone soft. “You’re going to inhale through your nose,” she says, loudly inhaling, “holding your breath at the end just for a beat before you exhale.” She blows out a breath.
I do as she says, releasing my breath as Chris’s hand skims down the side of my face and over the curve of my jaw, brushing over the fluttering of my pulse.
The longer we hold the pose and Chris continues his exploration down my arms, the more an entirely different kind of heat consumes me.
“Just keep holding this pose and the eye contact, all while breathing, and I’ll quietly step out of the room. Let your bodies talk. Let your mind talk to you or be quiet. Whatever you’re feeling,” she says, her tone even. “If there’s something on your mind, now is the time. This is about being comfortable with each other. True intimacy . . .” Vi trails off, followed by the soft sound of the door closing.
An undercurrent of something intangible hums between us in the following silence. Everything on my mind, all my reasons for avoiding him, evaporate. My anxiety is gone, replaced by the sensation of touch and the insistent tug of desire.
My skin tingles as Chris strokes a hand up and down my back, turning my skin to gooseflesh, while I focus on the masculine lines of his face, the sexy stubble coating his jaw. I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like scraping over my neck, my chest, my . . .
I zero in on his mouth once more, and my breathing grows shallow. We’re both sticky with sweat, the tension palpable. It’s a physical thing, and I tighten my grip around his shoulders, feeling the muscles bunch. I want him to kiss me so badly I ache. I want him to roll me onto my back and press his sweat-dampened skin to mine.
“Tell me something real,” he murmurs.
I blink back at him, my thoughts mush. “Like what?” I ask, once I recover.
“Anything.”
I want you.
I swallow back the thought, because I know that’s not what he means. Leave it to Chris to take what is probably the single most sensual moment of my life and use it to get in my head.
Giving my body would be so much easier.
“I think I’ve lost ten gallons of sweat since we stepped in this room,” I say with a half laugh.
“Not that.” He shakes his head, his gaze drifting over my face. “Something real, Lettie. Something no one else knows.”
I huff out a breath, and the frantic beat of my heart pounds against my ribs so hard, I know he must hear it. “I already did.”
His brow creases, clearly confused by my cop-out answer, so I explain, “You’re the first person I’ve ever told about my mother.”
He nods, but I can see in his eyes it’s not enough. He wants more. “Why were you avoiding me, Lettie? What are you afraid of?”
My gut clenches like a fist, and I drop my gaze to his chest. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Bullshit.”
My hold on him loosens, the desire to flee itching beneath the surface of my skin. Suddenly, I don’t want to be here anymore; this is more than I bargained for.
The walls of the room feel like they’re closing in. The air thins as I take my next breath. The fist in my stomach moves to my chest, and everything constricts.
Chris’s grip tightens on my waist, as if he senses my thoughts. “Everybody’s scared of something.”
“Oh, yeah?” I arch a brow, intent on proving him wrong when I coolly ask, “And what are you afraid of?”
His nostrils flare, and I think I’ve got him until he releases a ragged breath and whispers, “I’m falling for you.” One of his hands runs up my back, skimming my spine as he finds the delicate column of my neck. “I think I have been for the last year.” My heart leaps at the honesty in his voice. “Every smart retort or biting remark sends another hook into my heart, and if we’re being honest, I think you feel the same, even if you’re not ready to admit it. And a part of me is afraid you might never be ready to.”
I bite my lip as something I don’t recognize flutters to life inside of me at his words. “Chris . . . I . . .” My voice cracks, and I shake my head as the heaviness in my chest lifts.
Closing my eyes, I inhale through my nose, allowing the floodgates of my mind to open and whatever surfaces to spill out. “I’m afraid I’ll end up like my mother,” I confess, squeezing my lids so hard, I see stars. “I’m so damn scared all it’ll take is one little thing to push me into a depression so deep I can never crawl out of. And then as a result, I’ll push everything and everyone good away.”
“Lettie, open your eyes,” Chris commands, and I listen, blinking them open to find his eyes warm on mine. “That won’t happen.”
I swallow, my throat working to hold back my emotion. “Even if it doesn’t, I can’t be dependent on anyone, because when you fall for someone, a part of your happiness becomes entwined with theirs. You start to rely on them. You become dependent.” I shake my head, eyes widening as fear sinks its claws into my heart. “And I can’t ever rely on someone for my happiness, because if I do, what happens when they’re gone? If they leave?”
Hurt and pain lash through me at the thought, so strong and so visceral I feel it in my bones.
“Lettie, I would never?”
“You don’t know that,” I say, my voice thick. “Relationships change things. Love changes things. And no one can predict the future.”
“You’re stronger than you think,” he says so confidently I almost believe him.
My chin wobbles, betraying my emotion. “But what if I’m not?”
His gaze locks with mine while his hands slide through my hair. His fingers rake against my scalp and elicit a soft moan from my chest.
“Let me prove you wrong,” he whispers. Leaning closer, he presses his forehead against my own, our breaths syncing to a steady rhythm. “Let me show you how strong you can be. How strong we can be together. Just tell me what you want, Lettie, and it’s yours.”
When I hesitate, he presses his lips to mine, his mouth gentle and coaxing, delivering on all the promises he just made.
Desire swirls inside my chest while his words tug on my heart. I feel like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff. I’m on the precipice of something big, unsure if I’m ready to jump.
I want nothing more than to believe he’s right. To believe we might somehow be stronger together. To view relationships as an asset, rather than a weakness. To have faith.
I tilt my head as I taste the seam of his mouth with my tongue, drawing a moan from him that boils my blood. Tugging me closer, he splays his hand on my back, until we’re chest to chest, until I can feel the beat of his heart echoing against my own.
Just tell me what you want, Lettie, and it’s yours.
His hope and confidence fill all the empty pieces of me, pushing me forward until my toes dangle off the proverbial edge of something great, something bigger than me.
I pull away from him, my breathing heavy as I stare at this beautiful man, afraid he wants more than I can offer. “I want you, ” I whisper, and then I jump.