Chapter 18
Lily
“So I can just get new cards?” I ask as I lift my eyes from my cards to look at Chris across the coffee table.
“Yep, and then you decide if you want to bet some more or if you want to fold.” Chris stares down at his cards with the cutest little frown on his face.
Biting my bottom lip, I look down at my cards too, deciding what I want to do. I tap my finger to my lips in thought.
“What are you going to do?”
I look up to find Chris watching me, and my stomach flips.
He isn’t even doing anything that would be interpreted as flirtatious, but sometimes when he looks at me, my body reacts to him in the most visceral way.
There’s just this ease between us that I never would’ve guessed would be possible with a man.
Especially one I’m not in a relationship with.
“I’m not sure what’s best.”
He scoots around the table until he’s next to me, his shoulder brushing mine. Goosebumps travel down my arm. I tilt my head so I can look up into his face as he studies my hand. His cologne encompasses us, and I inhale slowly, letting the scent flow into me.
“Okay, so if I had this hand, I would pick these two to get new cards.” He points to two cards, explaining that, depending on what I got, I have a few options for what hands I could make.
Our faces are now inches apart as he looks at me, and my heart hammers.
His breath tickles my face, the spicy scent from the bourbon he’s been drinking mixing with his cologne.
As if involuntarily, my tongue darts out to wet my lips.
His eyes flick down, and I press them together as my cheeks heat from embarrassment.
Gaze locked on me, his Adam’s apple jumps with his swallow.
My heart sinks when he looks away quickly and shifts back to his original spot on the other side of the table with a clearing of his throat. I attempt to slow my breathing so as not give away how affected I am by his nearness.
“Here’s your new cards. Just put the ones you’re discarding here.” His voice is rougher, deeper than usual.
Maybe I’m not the only one affected by us.
I step out of the guest bedroom, trying to be as quiet as possible, not knowing whether Chris is awake.
Glancing down the hall, I don’t see any movement in the barely lit living room and kitchen area.
I turn in the opposite direction to go to the bathroom, and before I can even register, I barrel into warm, bare skin.
I shriek out my surprise as my hands fly up and press against what I just ran into—Chris’s naked chest. A light smattering of hair tickles my palms, and a strong arm goes around my waist to steady me, but also presses me harder into him.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were awake.” I sound breathy and panicked even to my own ears.
His deep chuckle vibrates through me, and my nipples instantly tighten in response. My body warms, hoping he can’t feel my nipples from where they’re pressed against him.
“It’s okay. I didn’t realize you were up either.” He carefully moves me away from him as he talks, and my body hates the distance. I fight the urge to lean into him.
Looking up at him, I swallow hard. “I was going to go to hot yoga.”
He nods slowly, as if considering my words. Then, he smiles down at me, and butterflies take flight. “Great, I’ll come with.”
Shock has me scrunching my face, and I take in his muscular form. His body is toned and trim, but not excessively so. “Have you ever done hot yoga? Or yoga at all?”
He holds out his hands, showing off his body even more, and my mouth goes dry. “I know I look quite unlimber, but I can assure you, I’ve been to a yoga class or two.”
I chuckle. “Okay, my apologies. Class starts at 7:30, but I like to get there about fifteen minutes early.”
“Perfect. Meet you in the kitchen in about ten minutes?”
I nod, and he turns away from me to walk back into his bedroom. My stomach flutters as I hurry to get ready because I guess we’re going to hot yoga together.
We make it to class, and as we’re laying out our mats and towels, Chris hisses, “It’s very hot in here.”
I furrow my brow at him as I take a seat on my mat. “I told you it was hot yoga. I feel that does imply that it’s hot.”
He sits on his, leaning back on his palms, stretching out his long legs in front of him. “Well, you weren’t kidding.”
I laugh silently as I shake my head. Eyes falling shut, I focus on my breathing.
I’ve been coming to this yoga studio for the last five years.
When I first started, I needed an outlet that I never got anywhere else.
Work challenged me in the best way, and my home life made me miserable.
But yoga was a way for me to focus on myself.
I didn’t have to worry about anyone at work or Blake.
I just had to worry about what was happening on my mat with my practice.
It was freeing in a way that I’d never experienced.
And I’ve been hooked ever since. It’s been torture not to come since everything happened.
When the teacher comes in to start class, I lean over to whisper in Chris’s ear, and he puts a hand on my lower back. As if I wasn’t hot enough already, that simple touch lights me on fire.
“You ready for this?” I ask, before leaning back and grinning at him.
He leans toward me to whisper in my ear. “I’ve never been more ready.”
I take a deep breath to steady myself as I move into the starting position. His simple statement seemed to convey so much more.
An hour later, when most people have already left the room, I sit up and look down at Chris sprawled out on his mat, sweat glistening on his body. He shed his shirt pretty early in the class, and I enjoyed the glimpses of him in the mirror as we moved between poses.
“You ready to go?” I ask in a hushed voice, not to disturb the last few people remaining.
He nods and sits up, swiping the sweat from his face.
I roll up my mat as he leaves his where it is, since he rented his mat and towel from the studio.
When I stand with my mat under my arm and my water bottle gripped in my other hand, he gently takes my mat from me.
Even though I can carry it out myself, I give him a grateful smile before heading out of the studio.
We go to the locker rooms to take quick showers and change into clothes that aren’t sweaty. Ten minutes later, I meet him in the lobby and wave goodbye to the teacher.
“What did you think?” I ask excitedly once we’re outside.
“That was much more intense than I thought it would be.” He eyes me as he unlocks the car and opens the passenger door for me. “You didn’t seem to be struggling nearly as much as I was.”
I laugh as he shuts the door. When he’s seated next to me, I tell him, “I usually come multiple times a week. Obviously, I haven’t been since everything, but I’ve been doing yoga for about five years.”
He hums as he pulls out of the parking lot. “Yes, I was surprised. You seemed quite…flexible.”
My eyes widen slightly as my breath catches in my throat. Apparently oblivious to my internal freakout at his comment, he turns up the radio a few notches. He most likely meant nothing by it, besides making an observation, but it made a whole lot of inappropriate images run through my mind.
I’m sobered when Blake’s comment from when I first started yoga plays in my head—I thought people who did yoga were skinnier.
I avert my eyes and stare out the window. Blake always wanted to remind me I wasn’t skinny enough or pretty enough. He’d use anything against me. Even something that he’d never been to and knew nothing about. Instead of letting him get to me about yoga, I went even more often to prove him wrong.
But the reminder of his comments brings up insecurities that I’ve fought against for years. I don’t think Chris meant anything by the comment that he was surprised, but for some reason, it cuts me.
When we park, Chris turns his car off. “You okay? You got really quiet.”
I turn toward him and force a smile. “Yep, I’m good.”
Not letting him say anything else, I get out of the car and walk to the elevator. I need to remember that it doesn’t matter what Chris thinks of me as long as he can help me legally. That thought doesn’t make me feel any better as we head to our respective bathrooms to get ready for the day.
I’m pouring a cup of coffee when Chris walks out, casually dressed in jeans and another Henley, looking incredibly hot. He’s staring down at his phone with a frown.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
His head pops up. “Yeah, everything is good.” His frown stays in place, contradicting his words. As he takes a seat at the counter, Hank jumps up in front of him to demand attention. Chris pets him and says, “So I have a weird question.”
I huff a laugh at how unsure he sounds. “Oh, boy, this sounds interesting.”
He smiles, but it looks a little strained. “So I want to go to a basketball game this afternoon. Would you be willing to go with me?”
A basketball game? Nashville doesn’t have a professional basketball team, so I assume he means college. “Uh, sure. What time is it?”
Chris checks his phone. “We’d need to leave in about an hour.”
I shrug. “Sounds great.”
His smile is somewhat relieved, and I’m even more confused. I let it go, assuming I’ll figure out what this is about eventually.
“I thought you meant a college basketball game,” I tell him as we climb up a few rows of the bleachers in a large high school gymnasium, my hand tightly gripped in his.
Chris stops climbing and leads me down a little until he decides where he wants to sit. Releasing my hand, he gestures to the bench. “Let’s sit here. And yes, sorry, I should’ve clarified.”
The two teams are warming up on the court as spectators continue to wander in.
We take our seats, and I glance over at him, smiling. “It’s okay. I’m just surprised.”