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There was no way the desire wasn’t written all over my face. There wasn’t even a chance that he wouldn’t see it, wouldn’t know exactly what I was feeling right then.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I called, hearing the sleepy edge to my tone that always came with desire. “If you’d like to, you can experiment with non-sexual touch. You can let your partner’s hair down, run your fingers through it. You can trace your partner’s face, neck, and shoulders. But no breast or sacral stimulation, and keep working on your breath, trying to keep in time with your partner. Being connected with your partner is the whole point of this exercise. Which means your movements and breathing being in tune is the most important part.”
I took a steadying breath before turning my focus back to Rowe, finding his gaze was already fixed on me.
Then his arms were raising, reaching out behind my head, grabbing the clip I’d slipped into my hair, opening it, and working it free.
He let it fall to the couch, freeing his hands to sift into my hair, spreading it out over my shoulders. His gaze followed the motion for a long moment before it found mine again.
“Aren’t you supposed to be breathing?” he asked in a whisper-soft voice that made my stomach swirl.
Breathing.
Right.
Yes.
Inhaling, my hips moved forward out of habit even as Rowe’s fingers found my scalp, the tips moving in small circles that had my head falling back and my breathing—and therefore hips—getting faster.
My hands lifted, settling one on his upper arm, and the other on the side of his neck that wasn’t injured, my thumb moving up and down over the pulse point there, feeling my own heart speed up even faster to match his.
I’d never once regretted learning tantra, figuring out that you could literally bring yourself to a climax with breathing and hip movements alone.
But right then, as I felt the orgasm building low in my core while the man who had rejected me pretty damn brutally watching me with intense eyes.
I couldn’t come.
I just… I couldn’t.
Only, I’d never quite mastered denying myself that. To be honest, I’d never tried very hard to learn that particular skill. Why the hell would I want to deny myself that?
So as I felt my sex tightening to that point of no return, there was nothing I could do to stop it.
My fingers curled into his neck and shoulder and my ass dropped down onto his legs as the orgasm slammed through my system. I just barely managed to silence myself, letting out this strange gasping noise, lips parted, as the waves crashed through my system.
I saw the recognition in Rowe’s eyes.
But it was too late to try to hide it.
The waves just kept pulling me under.
Rowe’s hand tightened around the back of my neck, crushing into my skull as he watched me.
Then, just like that, the waves stopped crashing.
And I was left absolutely freaking horrified.
I’d gotten to an orgasm with the man who thought I was sad and pathetic.
Damnit.
Goddamnit.
I shot backward off his lap like he’d scalded me. And, in a way, he had. In many ways, he had.
But I would deal with that later.
I grabbed for my clip absentmindedly, wrapping up my hair more tightly than necessary as if I could remove the sense memory of his gentle fingertips on my scalp by pulling my hair so tight that pain shot across the skin instead.
“Remember you can always praise your partner,” I said, voice a little choked as I moved around the class. “Tell them how beautiful and handsome they are, how much you love them, how much they turn you on. While our main focus in this class is energy connection, never underestimate the power of a little praise when it comes to connection.”
I kept a damn near running monologue for the entire rest of the class, pretending that moving through the rows of students required my utmost attention.
And never, not once, letting my gaze move toward Rowe.
I needed to stay the hell away from him.
With that in mind, I made sure everyone was distracted, and found my phone, shooting off a quick text, before getting back to the class.
Twenty minutes later, it was over, and I joined the students outside, talking, answering questions.
Avoiding Rowe.
I was getting desperate before I finally saw the truck pulling into the lot.
Thank God.
“Billie…” Rowe’s voice said at my back, coming out of the learning center.
I didn’t go back in to rearrange the floor mats or even grab my iPod.
I just turned and all but ran away as Malcolm got out of his car and made his way toward Rowe.
“Billie…” Rowe tried again, but it was too late. I was jumping in my van.
And then I was getting the hell out of there.
I needed to go home.
I needed to concoct some sort of plan to stay the hell away from Rowe from that point on.
