"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.
