Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
TANK
I ’m a pervert.
A complete and total fucking pervert.
That’s the only explanation.
“Fold forward and reach for your toes, keeping your spine long and your knees soft at first,” Stephanie says, but all I can think about as her hands track slowly from my mid-back toward the base of my spine, is how much I want her hands everywhere else.
Deep, slow breaths and constantly bringing my thoughts back to the mat are barely enough to keep me from pitching a tent in my yoga pants. I’ve been seconds away from a “hot-for-teacher” inspired hard-on since I walked through the door an hour ago.
It doesn’t help that I’ve been replaying that kiss over and over in my head since Friday, to the point that I had to take matters into my own hands last night just to get to sleep. The fact that I was jerking off to fantasies about the sexy as hell woman crouched behind me as I sit, reaching for my toes, is wrecking any shot I had at Zen.
“Good,” she murmurs in a husky voice that does further damage to my self-control. “Release the tension in your jaw and see if you can breathe all the way down here, at the small of your back. Try to breathe into my hands.”
I follow her instructions, relaxing, breathing, trying to get my act together and focus on the work. My hamstrings burn, but in a good way that tells me I’m making progress, and my shoulders don’t hurt at all in a forward fold anymore. Just two private sessions and three group classes, and I’ve made impressive progress.
She’s an excellent teacher.
And so stunning in that green tank top that brings out the gold flecks in her eyes that it almost hurts to look at her.
“Beautiful, Tank,” she murmurs, rubbing her hands up and down on my back, sending electricity prickling across my skin. “Now, lie down and we’ll do a quick throat opener before moving into savasana.”
The scent of her—that vanilla and clove mixture I can’t get enough of—intensifies as I sit up, bringing my face level with hers as she shifts to kneel at the side of my mat.
She squeezes my bicep. “How are you feeling?”
How am I feeling?
I feel like every time her fingers make contact with my skin, I’m a battery connecting to the grid. And right now, that battery is fully charged.
Against my will, my gaze drops to her mouth. I can’t help it. Just like I can’t help remembering how soft her lips were against mine, how sweet she tasted, how much I loved hearing that little sigh as she opened for me, letting me in. I’ve been on edge since Friday night, my body humming with a longing I haven’t felt in years.
And now, suddenly, it’s all on the surface.
Maybe it’s the fact that the session is almost over, maybe it’s all the deep breathing and that “yoga voice” of hers that drives me crazy, but the tension is quickly becoming unbearable.
The room feels warmer than it did a few seconds ago, charged with an energy that has everything to do with the woman leaning closer as she whispers, “Tank? Are you okay?”
“No,” I murmur, my voice husky. “I’m not okay. I’m a bad yoga student.”
She blinks in surprise. “What? No, you’re not. You’re doing great.”
“Is it great that I can’t stop thinking about kissing you?” I ask.
Her cheeks flush as her gaze locks with mine. “Really?”
“Really,” I confirm. Her braids are pulled back in a high ponytail again, accentuating the elegant line of her neck, and I want to kiss my way down her throat more than I want my next breath.
“We can’t skip savasana,” she says, in a voice that is pure temptation, and I’m so damned close to giving in. “It’s the most beneficial pose.”
“I can think of other beneficial poses,” I say, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her into my lap.
Her breath rushes out in surprise as she braces her hands on my chest. “Tank,” she says. “We shouldn’t.”
“Then tell me to stop,” I whisper as I curl my hand around the back of her neck, letting my thumb trace up and down the velvet skin I’m dying to kiss. “I’ll stop. Just say the word.”
She exhales a soft moan that nearly undoes me, even before she breathes, “I don’t want you to stop.”
That’s all I need to hear.
I pull her down with me, cradling her against my chest as our mouths collide—hot, desperate, and hungry. Her curves press against me, making me groan as her hips grind against mine, her heat branding me through the thin barrier of our clothes.
The kiss is molten, all the tension that’s been building between us unleashed in a clash of tongues and teeth. Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging just enough to send a delicious shiver down my spine. I nip at her bottom lip, swallowing the breathy moan she gives in response.
“This is unprofessional,” she whispers against my mouth, even as she rocks against me, making my dick throb.
“Do you want to stop?” The way she’s moving on me tells me the answer, but I need to hear her say it.
Her eyes flash. “No. God, no.”
I kiss her again, claiming her lips with an intensity that shocks me a little. It’s been so long since a woman made me feel like this, so desperate, so starved for her taste, her touch. My hands skim down her sides, memorizing every dip and curve before slipping beneath the hem of her tank top. The bare skin beneath my fingertips is warm and smooth, and she shivers as I trace the arch of her spine.
“You feel so fucking good,” I murmur, trailing kisses along her jaw, down to the sensitive spot beneath her ear. When I bite gently at her earlobe, she gasps.
I roll us over, pinning her beneath me on the thin mat. Her breath catches, but she doesn’t push me away. Instead, she wraps a leg around my waist, drawing me even closer, until there’s nothing stopping me from being inside her but two thin layers of sweat-dampened fabric.
“Again, we can stop any time,” I rasp, bracing myself above her.
Her voice is breathy, needy, “Don’t you dare.”
I drag my palm up her ribs, cupping her breast through the cotton of her top. She arches into my touch, her nipple hardening beneath my thumb as I tease her with slow, deliberate strokes. Her breath hitches with a whimper that makes my cock strain painfully against my shorts.
“Tank...” My name is a plea as her hands dive beneath my shirt, her nails raking down my back as she lifts her hips, pressing against me in silent invitation. My fingers trail down her belly to the waistband of her leggings, pausing just long enough to meet her gaze.
Her pupils are blown wide, cheeks flushed, lips swollen.
“Is this okay?” I ask, my voice shaking a little.
She nods, breathless. “Yes. Please.”
I slip my hand beneath the elastic, my heart nearly stopping when I find her bare—no panties, just soft, slick skin that’s already so fucking ready for me. The discovery makes me groan and my already aching balls drag heavy between my legs.
“Jesus, Stephanie...”
Her head falls back, exposing the long line of her throat as I circle her clit with slow, teasing strokes. She whimpers, her hips bucking against my hand, and I swear I’ve never seen anything sexier in my life. I dip one finger inside her, then another, stretching her, feeling her heat clench around me.
“Beautiful,” I murmur. “You’re beautiful, Teach. So fucking sexy.”
Her eyes flutter open, locking with mine. The connection is electric—so raw, so intimate, it leaves me breathless. I hold her gaze, letting her stare straight into my soul as I work her with steady, practiced strokes, loving the way she’s unraveling beneath me.
Every gasp, every moan, every tremble burns itself into my memory.
“Tank, oh God,” she whispers, clinging to my biceps. “I’m almost… I’m so close…”
“I’ve got you,” I promise, pressing my thumb against her clit in perfect rhythm with my fingers. “Let go. Come for me, beautiful.”
Her body arches, a broken cry spilling from her lips as she shatters beneath me. I watch her fall apart, riding out every wave of pleasure as her nails bite into my skin and her slick heat pulses around my fingers.
I don’t stop— can’t stop—until she’s panting in my arms, her breath coming in uneven hitches as she recovers. Finally, I ease my hand away, wrapping her up in my arms as she rests her head on my chest.
“Love watching you come,” I murmur into her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Really fucking love it.”
She sighs, her body melting into mine. “Oh man… Me, too.”
I smile, already thinking of all the ways I plan to make her come again. But before I can drag her yoga pants down her legs and show her I’m even better with my tongue than I am with my fingers, a sharp knock sounds at the studio door.
“Hello?” a feminine voice calls. “Hello! Stephanie! I saw your car outside. Are you still here?”
We freeze, our eyes meeting in mutual panic.
“Shit,” Steph whispers, scrambling to disentangle herself from me. “It’s Hattie. She left her sweater here this morning. She must be back to get it.”
“Who wears a sweater in August?” I hiss back.
“I don’t know,” she says, running nervous hands over her body as she stands. “Do I look like I was just being a sexual deviant with a student?”
“No, you’re fine.” I stand beside her, quickly adjusting my shirt to hide the erection tenting my pants. “But I’ll um… I’ll stay here.”
She nods, exhaling a sound that’s half laugh, half mortified rush of breath. “Right. Good idea,” she says before calling in a louder voice, “Just a second, Hattie! Be right there.”
I watch as she hurries out of the studio.
A beat later, I hear her open the door.
“Hattie!” she says, her voice bright and just the slightest bit strained. “What’s up? Here for your sweater?”
“Yes, I’m so sorry to bother you, dear,” comes the older woman’s voice. “I just knew if I didn’t get it now, I would forget. My mind’s a sieve these days. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“No, you’re good,” Stephanie says. “I just finished a private session. Let me go grab that for you from the lost and found.”
“Oh, I can come with you,” Hattie says. “It’s no problem.”
I quickly settle back onto the mat, bending into a forward fold to hide my…situation. Hattie’s eyes widen slightly when she spots me.
“Oh! Hello there, Tank. I’m so sorry to interrupt your session,” she says with a smile. “But I’m glad to see you taking Stephanie up on all she has to offer. You’re going to make great progress at this rate.”
Trying not to think about how I was “taking Stephanie up on all she has to offer” a few minutes ago, I nod. “Thanks, and it’s no problem. We were done anyway. Everything but savasana.”
“Oh, but that’s the most important part,” Hattie says, her smile fading. “Let me skedaddle and get out of your hair.”
“But get your sweater first, love.” Stephanie retrieves a powder-blue cardigan from a bin in the corner and hands it to Hattie. “Here you go, and have a great rest of your Sunday.”
“Oh, thank you, dear,” Hattie says, accepting the sweater and moving back toward the door. “You two, too. It’s a pretty afternoon out there. Don’t spend it all locked inside on the mat.”
“We won’t.” I swear Stephanie’s cheeks flush as she walks Hattie to the door. I hear her call goodbye, then the unmistakable sound of the deadbolt sliding closed.
Stephanie hurries back into the studio, where she leans against the wall, a hand pressed to her chest. “That was way too close.”
“Agreed,” I say, coming back to my feet. “I’m sorry. I never should have?—”
“No, please don’t apologize,” she says, her gaze locking with mine again, sending another rush of blood straight to my…situation. “That was so good.”
“It was,” I agree, my voice deeper, rougher.
She bites her lip, her expression sobering as she adds, “But we clearly need to set some ground rules if we’re going to keep seeing each other in class and outside of class.”
“We should definitely keep seeing each other outside of class,” I say, surprising myself a little. I’m not usually a zero-hesitation kind of guy but fuck, I want more of her.
As much as I can get.
She smiles, her cheeks flushing again. “I think so, too. But we should keep things professional during class time.” She lifts one bare shoulder. “And maybe we should talk about what we both want from the outside of class part? Make sure we’re on the same page?”
The question hovers between us for a beat, before I nod.
“I’m up for that.” I nod toward the door. “Can I buy you that smoothie first, though?” I cast a pointed glance down at my still rigid cock. “I um…seem to need to help cooling off.”
Her grin is simultaneously wicked and cute, a combo I want to see at least a hundred more times. “Sounds good. Though I do like seeing you helpless against my sex vibe. Is that wrong?”
“No, your sex vibe is intense,” I confess. “And I’m just a man.”
Her smile fades. “Nah, you’re more than that. You’re a good man, and I like you.”
“I like you, too,” I reply, my chest tightening. But it isn’t fear that’s making it harder to breathe.
It’s hope.
I shouldn’t be hoping for something like this right now. I’m about to start training camp, and I already have someone gunning for my starter position. I should stay locked in on my comeback.
But for the first time in a long time, hockey doesn’t seem like the only thing worth caring about, and it’s not like I’m a one-trick pony. I can care about more than one thing at a time…
Right?
Hopefully, I’m going to get a chance to find out.