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Someone from behind shushes me, and I whip my head around, offering a fake-ass smile as an apology. Hunter laughs softly, granting him a flick on the knee before I center myself again.
“Reach your hands forward and rest them at the top of your partner’s thighs.”
I palm Hunter’s muscular thighs through his sweatpants. He does the same to me, his big hands warming my thighs through my yoga pants.
“Come forward until your forehead is touching your partner’s.”
Hunter and I meet in the middle, our foreheads touching, our eyes cued in on one another.
“That’s right, feel the connection. Now close your eyes. Feel the rhythm of your partner’s breath.”
I close my eyes, and we breathe in sync, aligning our energies.
“Pack your bags,” Hunter says in a low voice against my face.
“Why would I do that?” I answer breathlessly, keeping my voice down.
“Spend the weekend with me on my houseboat.”
I open my eyes, as does he, and I pull back from him, but we keep our hands on each other’s thighs. He wants to spend the weekend together? “What about the restaurants?”
“I’ll take the weekend off.”
“Can you do that at the last minute?”
“I’m the boss. I can do what I want.”
Spending a couple of days with Hunter doesn’t sound like a bad idea. This could be good for us; help bring us even closer before the baby comes. I’m in the home stretch of my pregnancy. At thirty-five weeks, Liam is sitting low, preparing for labor. “Okay. I’ll spend the weekend with you.”
His grin is irresistibly devastating, and I’m the reason for it.
“Very good, class. How did that feel?” Heather chimes in, bringing everyone else back into focus.
I don’t know if it’s the yoga, but I feel pretty damn good.
* * *
We’re lying on our backs with our arms touching. Heather has disappeared into her office, and most of the class has cleared out while others pack up their things. I look over at Hunter, who still has his eyes closed. “You think Heather will put us out if we don’t move soon?”
“No … I don’t know. Maybe she went to call security.”
“Man and pregnant woman dragged away in handcuffs for refusing to leave yoga studio. Tonight on the ten o’clock news,” I say, doing my best news anchor impersonation.
Hunter opens his eyes and rolls onto his side, propping up on his elbow. “You can take Heather. She’s a twig. I’ll take security.”
“A twig? I was her size when you met me.”
“She doesn’t have your ass, though.”
“Shut up.” I resist the urge to press my fingertip into the grove of his dimple. “Help me up?”
Hunter stands and takes both my hands, pulling me to my feet. He gathers our things while I guzzle down water from my insulated bottle. “Skylar knows some of your friends from the baby shower guest list.”
“Which ones?” He holds the door for me, and we exit the yoga studio.
“Conner and Novalee Brathwaite? Her roommate, Esme, says that the Brathwaites are like the Carters.”
“Who are the Carters?”
