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ChapterTwenty-Eight
I wake up.For a second, I’m confused as I look around. My surroundings are unfamiliar.
Oh, right. I moved in with Art.
Getting up, I brush my teeth and put on some clothes, then go in search of my husband dearest.
He’s not in his office or in the kitchen.
As I approach the living room, I hear soft classical music playing. Art must be nearby.
Yep. Not only is he here, but I also get an incredible view for my troubles.
Dressed in tight workout pants and a tank top, Art is standing in a picture-perfect Warrior Pose, one knee bent, back lengthened, and every muscle in his extended arms flexed. Even his bare feet are sexy, all strong and masculine.
Fluffer, who was watching Art, turns a suspicious, fuzzy face toward me.
See? You’re looking at this giant like you want to eat him. What chance does a tiny morsel like me have?
Art extends his right arm over his head.
I debate between two equally reasonable choices: let him know I’m here or run back to the bedroom to use the toys.
My choice is made for me. Woofer rolls over from behind me and makes so much noise that Art glances our way.
One human overlord has smelled the other, yet I get the blame?
“Morning.” Art disengages from his pose, looking more graceful than I could ever hope to be. “How did you sleep?”
“Okay.” I check out the couch. There’s no sign he actually slept on it. Is he a neat freak? “How about you?”
He shrugs. “When pulled out, this couch is almost as comfy as the bed.”
I wave at his mat. “Doing a little yoga?”
“It’s part of my morning routine. Why don’t you join?” Without waiting for my answer, he walks to the edge of the couch and pulls out another yoga mat.
Hmm. I got into yoga some time ago, after writing a blog post about tantric masturbation. My signature move is to diddle myself in lotus, but when it comes to other yoga poses, the chances of me making a fool of myself are high.
“I don’t want to disrupt your practice,” I say.
He makes puppy eyes at me. “Just a couple of poses.”
Gah. If this fake marriage somehow leads to children, I hope he doesn’t teach them that particular move, or else they’ll get spoiled rotten.
I take a step back and nearly trip over Woofer. “I think I’m too hungry.”
Art grins. “I made some breakfast. I’ll share it with you if you’re good.”
Tempting. If that food is as yummy as what he made last night, it might be worth the unwanted exercise.
“Fine,” I say reluctantly. “Five minutes.”
He gestures at the mat. “Stand there.”
I do.
“Show me your Warrior Pose.”
