Dangerous Exes (Page 10)

“You gonna go to my gyno appointment with me Monday too?” she snapped, then regained her composure just as fast as she’d let the mask slip.

Gotcha.

I smirked. “It’s a dentist appointment, and though I’d love to watch you get your teeth cleaned and mouth tortured, I think I’ll take a hard pass, I hate the dentist, don’t even like walking into the office.”

Her eyes widened in fear as she hissed, “How the hell did you get my schedule?”

I just looked her body slowly up and down, then shrugged casually, as if to say I had to use different means, like my sexuality, to get it.

It was a lie.

I knew it.

She knew it.

And her blush, damn it, her blush was worth every lie I told.

An instructor in nothing but a black sports bra and black yoga pants turned on some weird new-age music and smiled at the class, spreading her arms wide like she was gathering our souls to her bosom before sacrificing them on the sweaty altar of hot yoga. She started rocking back and forth from foot to foot like she was doing a mating dance, her braid swung with her.

“What the hell is she doing?” I said under my breath.

Isla was gaping at me. “Then how do you have such nice teeth?”

“I think I’m lost.”

“The dentist. You refuse to walk into the building.”

“Does she always do that?” I pointed to the instructor.

“I mean they’re really white.” She leaned in like she was seconds away from asking me to open up so she could inspect.

The instructor inhaled deeply through her nose. “She seems really into this.”

Isla elbowed me. “Are you ignoring me on purpose? And she’s getting rid of all the bad energy.”

“Bad energy,” I repeated. “You’re kidding.” I panicked as I watched the students start mimicking her movements like there was literally bad air and energy in the room. They moved their arms and legs, and then shut their eyes. What. The. Hell. Finally my lust seemed to cool a bit, so I answered, “I have a friend who’s a dentist, he makes house calls.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course you do. And no, not kidding, this is yoga, we don’t really lift heavy things and expect someone to clap for us or pay us millions of dollars when we can throw a stupid ball.”

“Twenty-eight million, actually,” I corrected with a wink. “A year.”

She scowled and returned her attention to the instructor. “No wonder your dentist makes house visits, do you even grocery shop on your own?”

“Isn’t that what Amazon is for?”

“Unbelievable,” Isla said through clenched teeth. “You know what? This isn’t even about me anymore, is it? You’re just so bored and I’m the easiest target in a sick scheme to find some sort of meaning in your life outside of football!”

“Bored?” I repeated, hating how it actually made me feel like less of a man when she pointed out one of the things I had struggled with until finding the charity. “Nah, just . . . angry. Very. Very. Angry. So. Fucking. Angry. That the one thing I had to hold on to was ripped out of my fingers by a bitter, selfish woman and her ignorance.”

“So I’m ignorant?”

“No.” I gritted my teeth.

Her eyes flashed with hurt and anger.

“No!” the instructor shouted in my direction. “We leave our anger at the door.”

Isla leaned in, her eyes wild with rage. “She means literally.”

“Go on,” the instructor said in a fake soothing voice. “Walk over to the door and just . . .” She rolled her shoulders back and forth as if my anger was weighing them down. “Leave”—she let her arms go limp—“all the anger.”

“Just like that, huh?” I said in disbelief as I stood and walked over to the door, then made a dropping motion with my hands. “All gone.”

“Don’t you feel better?” She smiled wide.

No, actually, if anything, I just collected everyone else’s anger that they’d supposedly left at the door and carried it back with me to my mat, where a grinning Isla was waiting.

“Yup,” I said quickly.

“Good.” She rubbed her hands together. “Shall we get started, class?”

I sat down on my mat while Isla laughed softly next to me.

I may have scooted as close as physically possible to her.

She stopped laughing.

And I stopped thinking altogether as the room filled with a sickening heat, and as beads of sweat started rolling down her toned arms.

I just . . . watched.

Appreciated.

And then entered into actual hell when the instructor called out movements that I’d seen but never performed.

“And back into cobra.” Sweat pooled from my arms to my fingers. “And hero pose!”

I stole a glance at Isla, who was seamlessly moving her body into each pose like she was born in yoga pants chanting ooohhhm.

My foot slipped.

My face collided with the mat with a loud thunk.

“You alright, big guy?” Isla smirked at me in her perfect pose, sweat slid down her cheeks and onto the mat. My eyes zeroed in on the moisture collecting on her lips. I licked mine instinctively, only to have her mimic me as her breathing picked up.

I may want to destroy her.

But I was still a guy.

A guy who knew how damn tempting she was, especially when the next pose was called out and her ass went straight into the air.

A sharp intake of breath had me nearly choking on my tongue as I tried to focus on making it through the next—holy shit, it had only been ten minutes.

“And chaturanga.” The instructor moved to a plank position.

That I could do.

I let out a groan of pleasure as my muscles stretched and flexed, my shirt glued to my body. In frustration I tugged it over my head before going back into the pose.

Isla scowled next to me. “Do you even eat fat? Cookies? Ice cream?”

“What?” I grinned at the way she refused to look at any part of my body except my face. Hell, the woman wasn’t even blinking. “Of course I enjoy the finer things in life . . .” I lowered my voice. “Wine, chocolate, anything I can lick . . .”

She gulped, her eyes fluttered to my ass before meeting my gaze again. “I prefer something I can sink my teeth into instead . . .”

My cock hardened.

She bit down on her lower lip.

I swear I could almost feel those lips wrapped around me, sucking, toying.

“Don’t put down a good licking, Isla,” I whispered. We both moved into different positions, our bodies completely in sync, as I tried to hide the situation under my thin joggers. “I mean biting’s good, but a good lingering lick? A deep pulsing lick . . .” Her body flinched as she shut her eyes and gave her head a shake. “Perfection.”

“I’ll just take your word for it.” She looked away, completely shutting me down. I wasn’t used to being ignored, and I just realized something very vital.

She may appear controlled.

But the woman’s body burned for touch. It was in the way she eyed me, the way her body leaned in when her brain told her not to.

So I touched.

I ran the back of my fingertips across her thigh, and when we changed to yet another position, I grazed her ribs, lingering near her breasts only to pull away.

“Pity,” I whispered.

Her neck craned. “What’s a pity?”