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Everyone clapped for me, and Aspen came over and squeezed my arm. I felt my cheeks heat with embarrassment.
Mallory gave me a spontaneous hug, then pulled back, laughing. “See? Fun!”
I shook my head at her glee. At the class’s praise at my sad efforts.
I’d failed, all my faults and weaknesses on display, but nothing happened. No one yelled. No one shamed me. No one died.
I’d been applauded and… hugged because it was just yoga.
As Aspen settled everyone down onto their mats for the winding down of class, which, from what I could tell, was to lie on your back and take a nap, I realized I took shit way too seriously. I just tried to turn myself into a fucking pretzel and was pissed that I failed. Of course I failed. I never imagined even trying. Ever.
But I did, at Mallory’s prodding. And I’d felt serious, then ridiculously silly, then… amused.
Once settled on my mat, eyes closed, Mallory’s hand found mine and held it. And didn’t let go.
31
MALLORY
We endedup at the pizza place after class, having put in our order with Otis when we came in and seated at a two-top in the corner. Now we were arguing.
“I’m not going back,” he said, taking a hearty gulp from his water glass.
“Why not? You did great.”
He leaned forward. “I did it with the hopes of getting in your pants.”
My mouth fell open in surprise. He wasn’t shy or reserved in his sexuality. I just hadn’t expected him to admit it outright in a restaurant.
“Seeing you in those snug clothes was a perk.”
I narrowed my eyes at his look. The look that said he wasn’t lying. That he was hungry, and for more than just pizza.
“You’ve got a pretty fine ass yourself,” I said, turning it back around on him. “And other parts.” I licked my lips and he got my drift.
His gaze was heated, and now his face was hot.
This banter wasn’t working. I was getting turned on. I wasn’t experienced with it. The last time I did it, I got arrested. It was one thing to sling innuendos around when they meant nothing, which was what I thought was the case in Las Vegas.
It was another when it was with a guy–the only guy–to give me orgasms. And good ones. It was as if the seal had been broken on my need for sex. Now that I knew what it was like, at least almost-sex, I was insatiable.
“Theo,” I whispered.
“After we have our pizza,” he said, picking up on my need. His dark gaze dropped to my lips. “Then I’ll eat you.”
I tried to stifle a whimper, but he heard it. The corner of his mouth tipped up.
“Here it is,” Otis said, setting a small pizza on the table between us, forcing us to lean back in our seats. “Going to introduce me to your friend, Mal?”
Otis hovered over our table, waiting.
“Otis, this is Theo James. He’s Mav’s brother.” Otis had met Mav a bunch since he and Bridge frequently ordered carry out.
“Theo, meet Otis. This is his place.”
They shook hands and Otis eyed him, then me, then him, then me again.
Otis leaned toward me and whispered, “This guy know about your talented vagina?”
