Wild Side (Rose Hill, #3)(83)
My head tilts in question, and Rhys groans. I feel like I missed something, but his firm grip keeps pulling me toward the room at the back.
“What’s the sacral chakra?” I whisper-shout to his back.
“According to Gwen, it’s the energy center responsible for emotional well-being and sexuality. Apparently, mine was blocked.”
I snort as I toe off my boots. “Don’t say I never did anything nice for you.”
“What?” He reaches for my coat, lifting it to remove it from each of my arms as though I’m a child. But he does it without hesitation, without even asking. Then I watch him remove his and hang it beside mine. The simplicity of our coats hanging beside each other gives me the most smitten thrill.
“You’re welcome,” I say, for clarity.
Confusion rolls off him as he follows me into the sunny room. “For what?”
“Unblocking your sacral chakra.” I brush imaginary dirt off my shoulder as I glance back and wink at him.
He steps closer, his heat pressing into my back as he moves my ponytail from one side, draping it over my opposite shoulder and dropping his lips near my ear. “Careful teasing me like that, Tabby. I already admitted to being desperate. Means I’m not above dragging you out of here just to get back into that pretty little pussy.”
Fuck. A shiver races down my spine right as my teeth sink into my bottom lip. Suddenly I care a lot less about yoga, and a lot more about getting home.
Rhys doesn’t miss a beat though. Instead, he slaps my ass soundly enough to draw looks from other people already at their mats.
I flush and head for an open spot, peeking at Rhys beside me as I lay my mat on the floor. His lips are upturned, and when he finally looks my way, he winks.
My jaw drops a bit, and I stare at him, slightly taken aback by his playfulness. A side of him I didn’t see coming.
Maybe that chakra shit is real, and I healed him with the magic of my pussy.
“Babe, you okay?” he asks, all innocent, pulling out those acting skills he hides away. “You’re staring.”
I huff out a laugh and shake my head, imagining all the ways I will get back at him for this Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde display here.
Gwen enters, and we begin, but I find my eyes wandering. His hands. His arms. The way his sweats hug his ass in warrior pose. He might as well be naked, because all I can see in my head is him fucking me in that mirror. The way his legs flexed and his throat bobbed.
As the class progresses, it becomes clear that I am not the only one staring at him. Rhys keeps his head down and stays focused, channeling his inner athlete.
I have the focus of a gnat. I keep watching the way everyone else’s eyes roam. The way the women in here—which is almost everyone—let their gazes linger a little too long. Or the way one woman makes eyes at the girlfriend beside her before discreetly tipping their heads in his direction.
Maybe it should make me jealous, but I find it… exciting? It taps into my competitive side. I take a secret satisfaction in knowing I’ve got what they want.
Sort of. Technically. Fuck. I don’t know. Rhys and I are married, but I don’t know where that leaves us.
Complicated. Rhys and I are complicated.
But that doesn’t stop me from committing to jumping his bones the second we get home.
CHAPTER 37
Rhys
WE LEAVE THE STUDIO, AND THE CONVERSATION BETWEEN us is pretty much nonexistent. We’ve been walking for at least four minutes without exchanging a single word. I would say Tabitha’s zenned out, but I catch her chewing on the inside of her cheek, her face still flushed the same shade of pink as before class.
“That was nice,” she finally says, clearly desperate to fill the silence.
I keep walking and sneaking glances at her, contemplating the best words to say. Things between us went from fucked up to…confusing.
The only part that I’m not confused about is knowing that those skintight leggings won’t last long once we get home.
I also know that small talk isn’t my strong suit, so I offer her a flat look that portrays all my are-you-kidding-me feelings.
She snorts as we turn into the house, reading me so clearly.
“Okay, no awkward small talk. Got it.” She unlocks the door while adding, “Let’s talk about something more interesting then.”
“Knowing you, this ought to be good.” I’m talking, but all I can think about is tackling her the minute that door closes.
I watch her toe off her fur-trimmed boot, her voice taking on that singsong teasing tone I so enjoy. “Do you know how many of those women were gawking at you?” She goes for the second one, keys still looped over her finger. “Like does being so sexy ever get tiring for you?”
She turns, and I pounce.
I wipe that mocking grin right off her pretty fucking mouth when I cup the back of her head and slam her back against the door.
“The only thing that was tiring for me was having to suffer through that class dreaming about peeling these tight fucking leggings off of you.”
Her responding throaty laugh only makes me harder. I nip at her jaw as I unzip her coat and let it fall to the floor. “You think that’s funny?”
“Hilarious,” she breathes out, pressing her chest toward me. And it’s all the invitation I need to drop to my knees in front of her. My hands slip to the waistline of her leggings, and I yank, finding beautiful bare skin.