Not nearly enough.
My jaw ticked as two more men filtered into the back of the room. They tried to look casual—water bottles, mats slung over shoulders, innocent faces—but I saw their eyes track her.
A deep,what-the-hell-is-happeningbreath shuddered out of me.
Great. Now the class had become general admission.
The instructor chirped something about “opening your heart space,” and Poppy slid into a pose that required her to bend again—this time with one leg stretched out behind her.
I stared at the ceiling.
No.
The floor.
No.
My own damn feet.
Anywhere but the soft curve of her waist, the sheen of sweat glistening along her spine, and the way her breathing deepened with every inhale.
My skin felt too tight.
My pulse too loud.
My patience paper-thin.
Then, just when I thought the torture couldn’t get worse, Poppy looked back over her shoulder.
A tiny glance.Barelya second.
But her eyes met mine—wide, startled, heated—and her breath caught.
Like she felt all of it.
Like sheknewexactly what she was doing to me.
Her cheeks flushed and her lashes dropped, then she turned back around. But thatonelook? That one look was enough to detonate something within my chest.
Sweat coated every inch of Poppy as we rode in the elevator back to her penthouse.
“Did you enjoy yoga?” My voice sounded too low, even to my own ears.
One of her brows lifted again in that infuriating look, and she shrugged.
Like she hadn’t just spent an hour bending herself into shapes specifically designed to ruin my life. Like she wasn’t standing there glistening and flushed and breathing softly because she’d pushed her body to its limit.
The air was too thin in here.
I could hardly think.
Maybe it was the heat leftover from the studio. Maybe it was the fact that she still hadn’t said a real word to me in three days. Maybe it was because all the blood in my body was no longer making it to my brain and had collected, traitorously, in my cock.
Either way, coherent thought was not on the menu.
Then she did it—she dragged her fingertips over her bare ribs, tracing a path around the hem of her sports bra as she absentmindedly wiped away a bead of sweat.
I wanted to choke.
