I lasted exactly eight seconds before Poppy’s shoulders began to subtly tremble, signaling her quiet laughter. My lips curved slightly in response, and I leaned in, my voice low and teasingagainst her ear. “If I breathe like that while you’re sitting in my lap, this class is about to turn into a very different kind of exercise.”
Her suppressed laugh turned into an adorable snort, drawing curious glances from a few nearby couples. Even the instructor shot us a polite smile edged with mild exasperation, clearly warning us to behave. I tightened my arm around Poppy’s waist, trying to keep a straight face.
“Let’s focus, everyone,” the instructor called out.
Poppy tilted her face back slightly, a sparkle of amusement in her eyes. Her hand patted mine softly, her voice gentle but playful. “Try.”
I released an exaggerated sigh, but I couldn’t deny her anything.
I murmured near her ear, “In through the nose.” She obediently inhaled, her breathing slow and measured. “Out through the mouth.”
Her warm breath ghosted over my arm, sending a ripple of desire through my veins.
She shifted again, unintentionally—or maybe very intentionally—brushing herself more firmly against my already growing erection. A sharp breath escaped me as I fought to keep my control, my fingers tightening instinctively against the soft curve of her belly. I froze when the baby kicked firmly against my palm.
My eyes widened, my entire world pausing in surprise as I looked down at where my hand rested.
“Holy shit,” I breathed, awe and shock thickening my voice.
Poppy’s soft laughter filled the air as she turned her face slightly toward mine, her voice a tender whisper. “That’s your son saying hello.”
“Our kid just kicked my hand.”
“He does that when he hears your voice.”
The instructor was now explaining something about contraction timing, but I wasn’t hearing a word of it. My gaze fixated on Poppy’s belly, wonder stirring deep within my chest as another tiny, determined kick pressed against my palm. My throat tightened unexpectedly, emotion gathering like a storm beneath my carefully guarded control.
“That’s…weird,” I muttered, my voice a rough rasp.
She hesitated, glancing back at me with sudden uncertainty. “Good weird or bad weird?”
I drew a slow, steadying breath, my hand still cradling the curve of her stomach. I pressed a lingering kiss to her temple. “Good weird, baby. Really good.”
The instructor clapped again, breaking the moment as she announced the next exercise. “Okay! Now we’ll practice pressure support during contractions.”
I immediately leaned closer, brushing my lips against Poppy’s ear as I murmured, “If anyone here asks me to massage your hips in front of strangers, I’m going to lose it.”
She laughed again and turned her head, kissing my cheek gently. “Colter?”
“Yeah?”
“You realize you’re already doing the most important part, right?”
I arched a brow slightly, feeling both curious and cautious. “What’s that?”
She smiled softly, warmth radiating from her expression. “Showing up.”
I huffed quietly, my voice gruff as I muttered, “Baby, I showed up because if I didn’t, you’d let some idiot like that guy over there try to help you breathe.”
She relaxed back into me again, contentment radiating from her.
Surrounded by pastel-colored walls, yoga mats, and a room full of expectant dads who looked seconds away from fainting every time someone said “cervix,” realization crashed over me. I’d fought wars for my club, handled millions of dollars without blinking, and buried enemies without losing sleep. But holding Poppy, feeling our son kicking beneath my palm…that was the most terrifying and best thing that had ever happened to me.
The instructor’s next words jolted me from my thoughts. “Partners, place your hands on the mother’s hips and apply firm pressure.”
Poppy glanced up at me, mischief dancing in her eyes. “You heard the lady.”
I stared down at her, desire already tightening my body. “If I start touching your hips like that, we’re not making it out of this room. Then I’ll have to kill people for hearing and seeing things that are only mine.”
