Chapter 7
Wednesday arrives faster than I expect, and with it comes the promise I made to Emily about yoga class.
I'm regretting it the second I pull into the parking lot of the gym on base.
Chloe: I'm here. I'm terrified. Why did I agree to this?
Emily: Because endorphins are good for you. And because Tyler works out here and you want him to see you in yoga pants
Chloe: I hate you.
Emily: No you don't. Now get your cute butt inside. Class starts in 5 minutes.
I grab my yoga mat—borrowed from Emily because I don't own one—and head inside.
The gym is exactly what I expected. Weights. Treadmills. Lots of very fit people doing very fit things.
And then I see him.
Tyler is across the room at the weight bench, wearing a sleeveless Army PT shirt that shows off arms that should be illegal. He's mid-rep, muscles flexing as he lifts what looks like an obscene amount of weight.
I freeze, unable to look away.
He finishes his set, sits up, and our eyes meet across the gym.
His expression shifts. Something hot and possessive flashes in his eyes as he takes in my yoga pants and fitted tank top.
Then he smiles. Slow and devastating and full of promise... yeah, I might need to rush something else soon.
I'm still staring when Emily appears at my elbow. "Close your mouth, babe. You're drooling."
"I am not—"
"You absolutely are. Come on. Studio's this way."
She drags me toward a glass-walled studio where several other people are already setting up their mats.
I recognize a few faces from the coffee shop, mostly soldiers who come in for their morning fix. They wave, friendly and welcoming.
Tyler appears in the doorway just as I'm unrolling my mat.
"Hey," he says, and God, his voice is even deeper than usual. Rougher. Like he's been working out hard.
"Hey. I didn't know you did yoga."
"I don't, usually. But I thought I'd try something new tonight." His eyes rake over me slowly. Deliberately. "Glad I did."
Heat floods my body. "Tyler—"
"Daddy," he corrects quietly. Low enough that only I can hear. "When we're alone or it's just us, you call me Daddy. Remember?"
"Yes, Daddy," I whisper.
"Good girl." He claims the mat space right behind mine. "Now let's see how flexible you are."
Oh my God.
This is going to be torture.
Emily starts the class, and I try to focus on her instructions instead of Tyler's presence burning into my back.
We start with breathing exercises, then move into gentle stretches.
"Downward dog," Emily instructs.
I move into position, and I swear I hear Tyler groan behind me.
"You okay back there?" I ask innocently.
"Fine," he grits out. "Just fine."
Emily catches my eye and winks.
The class continues, and every pose feels like an exercise in sexual tension. Tyler's right behind me, close enough that I can hear his breathing, feel the heat radiating from his body.
When we move into child's pose, he leans forward slightly.
"You're killing me, sweetheart," he murmurs. "You know that?"
"I'm just doing yoga."
"You're doing yoga in pants that should be outlawed. There's a difference."
I bite back a smile.
By the time class ends, I'm sweaty and relaxed and more than a little turned on.
Tyler rolls up his mat, his eyes never leaving mine. "Dinner?"
"I should shower first—"
"My place. You can shower there." His voice drops. "Unless you're not comfortable with that."
"I'm comfortable."
"Good. Meet me at my truck in ten minutes."
He leaves, and Emily immediately pounces. "That was the most sexually charged yoga class I've ever taught."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Please. You two were practically combusting. I'm surprised we didn't have to evacuate the building." She grins. "He's got it bad for you."
"The feeling is mutual."
"I can tell. Now go. Your Daddy is waiting."
I grab my stuff and head out to the parking lot. Tyler's leaning against his truck, arms crossed, looking like every military romance hero I've ever read about.
"Ready?" he asks.
"Ready."
The drive to his apartment is quiet, but the air between us is charged. Thick with want and anticipation.
When we get inside, Tyler heads straight for the kitchen. "I'll start dinner. Towels are in the closet. Take your time."
I stand in Tyler's bathroom, steam already filling the space from the running water.
My reflection in the mirror shows flushed cheeks, messy hair from yoga, and eyes that are brighter than they've been in months.
Because of him.
I should just get in the shower. Clean up. Get dressed.
But as the water cascades down, I realize I don't want to shower alone. I want company.
And he's sweaty from yoga too.
This is crazy.
But something about Tyler makes me brave. Makes me want things I've never had the courage to ask for.
"Um, Tyler?" I call out, my voice uncertain.
No response.
I take a breath. Try again. "Daddy?"
Footsteps in the hallway. Then he appears in the doorway.
"What's wrong—"
He stops when he sees me. Completely naked. Water running behind me.
His eyes darken immediately. Hunger flashing across his face.
"Chloe." My name comes out rough. Strained. "What are you doing?"
"You're sweaty too." I gesture to his workout clothes. "From yoga. Do you... do you want to join me?"
For a long moment, he doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Just stares at me like he's trying to memorize every inch.
"You sure about this?" His voice is low. Careful. "Because if I get in that shower with you, I'm not going to be able to keep my hands to myself."
"I don't want you to keep your hands to yourself."
"Chloe—"
"Daddy. Please. I want this. I want you."
Something in him breaks.
He pulls his shirt over his head in one smooth motion, and I drink in the sight of him. Broad shoulders. Defined chest. Abs that make my mouth water.
His hands go to his waistband. "Last chance to change your mind."
"I'm not changing my mind."
He strips off his shorts and boxer briefs, and oh my God.
He's already hard. Thick and long and perfect.
"See what you do to me?" His voice is gravelly. "Been like this since you bent over in downward dog."
"Really?"
"Really. Watching you in those yoga pants, I was hoping I was going to see you naked later..." He stalks toward me. "I've been thinking about this for the past hour."
“You have?”
He leans down, his mouth a breath away from mine. "Now get in the shower. I'll be right behind you."
I step into the large walk-in shower, and the hot water feels incredible against my skin.
Tyler follows, closing the glass door behind him.
The space suddenly feels smaller.
"Come here," he commands softly.
I move toward him, and his hands settle on my waist.
"Let me wash you. Take care of you."
"Okay."
He reaches for his body wash, lathering his hands. Then he starts at my shoulders, working the soap across my skin with strong, sure strokes.
It's not sexual. Not yet.
His hands move down my arms, across my collarbone, then lower.
When he cups my breasts, I gasp.
"Sensitive?" he asks.
"Yes."
"Good. I like knowing what makes you react." His thumbs brush over my nipples, and they peak immediately. "So responsive for me."
"Daddy—"
"Shh. Let me take care of you."
His soapy hands move down my stomach, over my hips.
"Turn around. Face the wall."
I obey, and his hands slide down my back, massaging as he goes.
"You're tense here." He works at a knot in my shoulder. "Relax for me, baby girl."
His hands continue their journey, over my ass, down my thighs.
"Spread your legs a little."
My breath catches, but I comply.
His hands move between my thighs, washing carefully. Thoroughly. My breath catches as he runs the cloth over my clit.
"So pretty everywhere," he murmurs. "Perfect for me."
One finger slides through my folds, not penetrating, just exploring.
"Already wet. And I haven't even touched you properly yet."
"Please—"
"Please what? Use your words."
"Touch me."
"Like this?" One finger circles my clit slowly.
"Yes. More."
"Greedy girl." But his touch becomes more purposeful. Circling with just the right pressure. "Turn around. I want to see your face."
I turn, and his free hand braces against the tile beside my head.
"Look at me. I want to see your eyes when you come."
His finger continues its torturous circles while his eyes hold mine.
"That's it. Let me see it. Let Daddy see how good he makes you feel."
I'm climbing higher, pleasure building with each stroke.
"I'm close—"
"I know. I can feel it. But you don't come until I say so."
"Daddy, please—" I’m not above begging. I need to orgasm right now. It’s been building and building and I’m going to explode.
"Not yet. Show me you can be patient. Show me you can obey."
He adjusts the pressure slightly, and I nearly come apart right there.
"Hold it, baby girl. Just a little longer."
"I can't—I need—" I’m panting now. He’s torturing me. There’s no other word for it. Pure, delicious torture.
"You can. You're my good girl. You can do anything I ask." He leans down, his mouth by my ear. "Come for me. Now."
His permission shatters me. I come hard, my legs shaking, and if Tyler wasn't holding me up, I'd collapse.
"Beautiful," he murmurs. "So fucking beautiful when you let go for me."
He holds me while I come down, the water cascading over both of us.
"Better?" he asks.
"So much better."
"Good. But we're not done."
"We're not?"
"Not even close." He spins me around, pressing my palms flat against the tile. "Keep your hands right there. Don't move them."
"Okay."
I feel him position himself behind me. The head of his cock nudging against my entrance.
"You okay with this?"
"Yes, Daddy. So okay with it."
"That's my good girl." He pushes in slowly, and the stretch is perfect. "Fuck, you feel incredible."
"You're so—it's so much—"
"Too much?"
"No. Perfect. Don't stop."
"Wasn't planning on it." He bottoms out, and we both groan. "You okay?"
"Yes. Please move. More, Daddy. Please!"
"Since you asked so nicely."