by Nyla K
Yanking the door to the studio open, I pop my head out and hiss, “You coming inside or wha- ”
But when my face comes in line with the person out there, all six-foot-three of him, my voice dissolves in my throat.
Gray eyes shimmer down at my face, the corner of that kissable mouth quirking. “I wasn’t sure if you allowed walk-ins.”
My heart jumps in my chest, and I can feel my cheeks heating beneath the overpowering gaze of Lazarus Weston. My mouth hangs open, having lost all available words.
“The girl at the desk said go to the door and see,” he runs a hand casually through his hair, and I have no choice but to take in what he’s wearing.
A white t-shirt hugs his broad chest and shoulders in the exact way I wish I was doing, and dark gray sweatpants sit low on his hips. The fitted ones… The ones that make girls drool over guys like him a thousand times more than we would in other clothes.
That would explain why Claire told him to walk over here and disrupt my class.
I shoot a quick glare at the mousy blonde behind the desk who shrugs at me while ogling Lazarus, as if a manifestation of her exact dream man just stepped out of her mind. And when my eyes slide back up his delicious frame, I don’t blame her one bit.
“We don’t usually take walk-ins ten minutes late,” I scold him as best I can, though I still have no clue what he’s doing here.
He lets out a soft chuckle, like sweet music to my ears. “Will you make an exception for me, instructor Trix?”
Those deep eyes and that even deeper voice make a tremor in my belly that feels like a rush of butterflies swooping through my esophagus. I have no choice but to nod weakly, and wonder how the hell I’m going to get through teaching my first class with this big ol’ hunk of sex candy in here, stretching and staring at me with his hurricane eyes.
“You’ll need a mat,” I grumble, hearing that chuckle again as I nod for him to follow me inside, ignoring the overwhelming way my body reacts to him. It’s been like this for years. This is nothing new.
Then why can’t I stop thinking about that giant bulge inside those sweatpants and how badly I want to sit on it again??
Cringing to myself, I walk Lazarus to the only empty spot in the room, which just so happens to be right up front, next to me. Go figure.
“Sorry about that class,” I grab a mat and spread it out for him, then point. To my surprise, he sits without me having to say anything, crossing his legs like everyone else. “This is why you don’t come late. You have to sit up front.”
“I’m alright with it,” Lazarus replies, giving me a head-cock and one of those barely-smiles he does so well.
I squint at him, then glance around the room quickly. Literally every single person in here, all ten women and two men, are gawking at him like he’s a giant slice of chocolate cake I just sat in the front of the class to taunt them.
“Okay, we’re starting with a lotus pose,” I say as I have a seat and show them how to position their legs. “Now lean forward and feel the stretch in your sacrum.”
I lean forward, demonstrating, then I sit up to observe everyone and make sure they’re getting it. Naturally my eyes drift to Lazarus first, and I bite down so hard on my lip it almost bleeds, because holy triceps and tattoos. God.
My eyes wander along his lower back where his t-shirt is inching up, and I notice that damn-near everyone’s faces are up, gawking at him too.
“Heads down, people,” I bark at them quietly, and all their heads snap down, though the girls directly behind Lazarus can’t seem to stop peeking at his ass, grinning and blushing like schoolgirls.
Okay, I might have to remove downward dog for today.
“Remember to breathe,” I stand up, walking around to check their form.
I really can’t help myself… Stepping over to Lazarus, I place my hands on his lower back where his sciatic is.
“Are you usually tight here?” I ask softly, clearing my throat to make sure it doesn’t come out as raspy as it sounds to my own ears.
A slightly strangled yes comes out of him and I swear everyone in the room orgasms at the same time, myself included.
After that I have them move onto a child’s pose, we do some cat-cows, and a few balancing exercises. To my surprise, Lazarus is holding his own, and I’m shocked because men are generally much less flexible than women, and often resistant to some of the positioning yoga brings. The two guys we have in class have been doing yoga for a while, so they’re used to it, but we rarely get new men joining us. Not in the time I’ve been here, anyway.
Until Lazarus Weston. The yoga eye-candy of Aton.
Seriously, I can almost feel the simultaneous swooning happening in the room every time Lazarus moves and flexes, gracing us with a tiny smile or lifting his arms so that his t-shirt rides up to reveal the V-muscles in his pelvis.
I think they call them cum-gutters, which is kind of disgusting. But shit, on Lazarus I’ll call them whatever the fuck. Because that looks damn good. The perfect lines to trace with your tongue…
I’m trying to remain professional here, but it’s really difficult when one of my students looks like that. And after spending the last two weeks flirting, occasionally making out, touching and teasing each other in ways that have built up this fierce sexual tension between us, it’s virtually impossible for me not to look at him with heart-eyes.
I mean, I’ve been looking at Lazarus with heart-eyes for years, but it’s different now. Because now he’s here. At my job. Breathing and stretching, and letting me touch his ass while he bends over in front of me. You know, to make sure he’s doing it right.
I didn’t invite him here. Don’t get me wrong, I would have. If I ever thought for one second he’d show up here, I probably would have pleaded with him to come like some desperate teenager.
But I didn’t have to. He came on his own.
Oh God. Don’t think about Lazarus coming right now. I’ll soak through my Lululemon.
Thirty minutes later, we’re winding down, balancing on our tippy-toes. I come down, slow and controlled, while bringing my hands into prayer formation to end the class.
“Namaste,” we all say together, and I smile. “And that’s our class. Great job, everyone. Thank you.”
They all murmur their thank yous back, standing slowly and picking up their mats. Sweaty, with my hair is sticking to the back of my neck, I bite my lip to contain my prideful smirk. This feeling is like a high.
I can’t believe I did it. I can’t believe I taught my first class by myself.
This is the biggest deal in the world for me.
Looking on in amusement, I see no fewer than five people approach Lazarus, one after the other, asking him if he’s new, if he’s thinking of becoming a member, and if he’ll be in class tomorrow. I can’t help but chuckle, watching him brush strands of his inky black hair away from his eyes, grinning politely while absorbing their wandering gazes.
By the time everyone else files out, I’m done cleaning up and putting everything away. I peek up as Lazarus walks over to me, those stormy eyes studying me. I wish I knew what that look meant, but I’ll settle for just allowing it to rain tingles all over my body in the form of rampant goosebumps.
“You did well for a first-timer,” I grin, trying to be subtle while I die over how amazing he smells.
His sweat actually makes him smell better, like pure masculinity. He smells big and strong and sexy, with a hint of some citrusy soap and something sweet I still can’t place. I have my theories…
Cinnamon, vanilla, spice cake with whipped cream. He sort of smells like a Christmas candle, only sexy. A sexy Christmas candle.
I blink away these thoughts as he purses his lips at me. “How do you know it was my first time?” Long fingers curl around the mat he’s holding and my insides hum. “I think I rocked it.”
Giggling, I bite my lip, loving the look on his face from making me laugh. He lights up for a split second, but then smothers it fast, hoping no one
notices. But I do.
I always notice everything Lazarus does.
“You don’t rock a yoga class,” I take the mat from him, stacking it with the rest. “It’s supposed to be calming. It brings peace with flexibility and helps you find your center.”
“How’s your center?” He murmurs from behind me and when I turn around he’s right there. So close.
So so close.
Gazing up at him, I wonder what the hell I’m supposed to say to something like that, or how I would even begin to formulate words when we’re basically pressed together.
Sweaty, with limber muscles.
“It’s… good,” I gulp, surrounded by him. His scent, his warmth, the vibrations that come with his words.
“Trix.” He brings his fingers to brush a line down my arm. “I think you’re a fantastic instructor. You don’t seem like a beginner at all. You seem like you’ve been doing this for years. Honestly, I’ve never seen you so… centered.”
I swallow the thickness in my throat, blinking up at his pretty face. That compliment from him means everything, because he’s known me my entire life, and if he’s seeing a side of me he’s never seen then that means I made the right choice. I did the right thing leaving home and coming here to follow my dreams.
I know I still have a lot of work to do; a long way to go and many more years to build my future, but today was the first proper step in the right direction.
It feels insanely good, just like the feeling of him touching me.
His fingertips zap me with little sparks as he drags them, gently, up my slightly sticky skin. I struggle to find my voice, but with him so close, looking at me like that, it’s harder than it should be.
“You really think so?” My tone is begging for more reassurance from the one person in the world whose constant acceptance I crave, besides my father.
It’s different, though. My father always accepts me, no matter what. Lazarus is another story. His acceptance has to be earned.
He nods slowly. “Yea. I’m glad I came to check it out for myself.”
“Is that why you came?” I ask, really wondering this. “To see how I would do?”
“No, I knew you’d rock it,” he grins, then leans in even closer to my face. “I just wanted to keep you on your toes.”
“That’s called a Toe Stand,” I tease, and he licks his lips, giving me more of a smile than I’ve seen on him in a while. It’s the most gorgeous thing my eyes have had the pleasure of witnessing.
“I didn’t think you could sweat like this from regular yoga,” he tugs his white tee away from his firm chest. “Now I have to drive home all sticky.”
“Well, first of all we live in Miami, so this is nothing new,” I give him a look, and he chuckles. “And secondly, there are showers if you want.”
Simple mention of the showers right now has me pressing my thighs together. I really want him to take a shower here.
“Do you shower here?” His brow furrows. “After classes?”
“Sometimes,” I shrug. “Depending on how sticky I am.”
This time we both swallow in unison, and I think he’s looking at my rack while I’m busy lusting after his throat as his Adam’s apple bobs. It’s such a simple movement, but it looks sexy as all hell when he does it.
“Come on,” I yank him with me by his arm, leaving the studio then pointing down the hall. “The shower’s back there.”
“Like a locker room?” He looks confused, and it makes me smile.
He’s so damn cute. “It’s co-ed,” I smirk.
Now he really looks like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
“I don’t necessarily need to shower,” he mumbles, and call me crazy, but he sounds a little disappointed at this.
“It’s up to you,” I reply casually, trying my hardest not to sound like I have a dog in this fight.
I leave him for a moment and trot to the reception desk where Claire is packing up her things.
“You heading out?” I slink behind it to grab my water bottle out of the fridge, taking a sip.
“Yup. Is that okay?” Her eyes keep darting past me, and I know it’s because of Lazarus. I nod to her question and she leans in. “Who is that guy? Do you know him? Is he like a model or a musician or something?”
I cough through my sip and wipe my mouth with my hand. “No, he’s not either of those things. He’s my dad’s business partner. His name’s Lazarus.”
“God… hot name,” she sighs, fanning herself discreetly. “He should have been the lead singer of a band.”
I roll my eyes, though she’s totally right. “I’ll let him know he picked the wrong career path. See you tomorrow?”
She nods and we high-five. When I turn around Lazarus is gone, and a few of the ladies from class are grabbing their stuff from the cubbies. I say goodbye to them, and Claire, as they all leave, then I go into the showers and see if anyone is still here. I need to lock up since we’re closing for the day, and the twins put me in charge of making sure the place is secured for the rest of the afternoon.
I peer around the corner and I don’t hear any of the usual chatter, or any showers running.
“Is anyone still here?” I call out. “We’re closing.”
No one answers, so I shrug and go back to the front door to lock up. I’m not sure where Lazarus went, but I really hope he’s waiting for me outside. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if he left without saying anything. Wouldn’t be the first time.
Poking my head outside, I don’t see his car anywhere so I just brush it off and lock the door. I finish my water and turn all the lights off, flipping around the sign that says we’re closed. Then I decide to go wash up, making my way to the showers. Once I’m there, I waste no time peeling off my skin-tight yoga pants, tossing them onto the floor. As I’m going for my sports bra, something moves in the mirror and I jump out of my skin.
“Jesus!” I shriek, slapping my hand over my heart as Lazarus grins from behind me, his reflection leaning against one of the tiled walls with his arms folded across his bare chest. Breathing out slowly, my eyes lock on his in the mirror. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“Why? Where did you think I was?” His eyes are lit up with amusement.
“I don’t know…” I mutter. “I thought you might’ve left.”
He shakes his head slowly. “I decided to shower.”
I gulp. “Oh?”
He’s dangerously sexy as I stare at him, bare except for those positively yummy sweatpants, sculpted muscles in his shoulders and chest accentuated by how his arms are crossed. And let’s not forget about the elaborate cluster of his eight-pack. I’ve known him forever and yet I can’t fathom how he’s in such fantastic shape. I’ve never seen him work out before, though I assume he does it, at work or home like my dad does. I mean, he must. Muscles like that don’t just show up on their own…
“What about you?” He lifts a lazy brow at me, eyes drifting to my naked legs, reminding me that I’m in my panties, standing here staring at him in the mirror. “You’re showering too?”
I manage to scrape out the word, “Yes,” then turn around, leaning my butt against the vanity counter.
He looks purely devious as he straightens up and, without saying another word, shoves his sweatpants down his long legs, stepping out of them until he’s left in only some very expensive-looking black boxer briefs.
It’s baffling how much he looks like an underwear model. Honestly, it’s tripping me out. Claire was right. He probably should have done something with all that.
I have to slurp my tongue back into my mouth, which he definitely notices, smirking at me like the devil himself. Then he gives me a taunting look, as if he’s daring me to strip. I think he wants to see if I’ll keep this thing going, which isn’t a game he wants to play with me, because clearly I have no shame when it comes to this man.
Slipping my sports bra over my head without a second thought, I toss it onto the counter behind me. Now I’m stand
ing with about eight feet of space between us, in nothing but my pink panties.
Lazarus blinks heavily, chest pumping strong breaths as his eyes drift leisurely over my bare breasts, nipples hardened into pebbles at being exposed to the cool air, and from the way he’s looking at them, like two pieces of delicious candy he wants to lick and lick.
When his gray irises meet mine again, there’s a hunger in them I’ve only been blessed enough to see twice before, but it’s both alarming and intoxicating. His thumbs slip into the waistband of his boxer briefs and he pushes them down, prompting the swift gust of air that sucks into my lungs in the form of a gasp.
Because holy fuck.
Lazarus Weston is naked. Naked in front of me. I can see everything.
My heart is thumping inside me so hard it’s about to spring out at him like a Jack-in-the-box, while my eyes stay glued to such an unexpectedly magnificent part of him.
Long, pink, thick perfection. Not fully hard, but still so much bigger than I’d guessed.
Wow… That’s the first dick I’ve ever seen in real life. I’m so glad I waited. It’s marvelous.
I really can’t stop staring. I know I should, but I just can’t seem to tear my eyes away from it.
Until Lazarus clears his throat, and my eyes jump back up to his, my cheeks heating like an oven while he smirks in satisfaction. He must know what he’s working with down there. That thing is far too big for him not to know just how large it is.
His cocky little expression is so adorably infuriating, it prompts me to quickly remove my panties, just to get him back for looking so smug. And it works, because now he looks like he could drop dead at any moment. I’m actually worried.
“Fuck…” he hisses then stomps up to me.
I brace myself for an explosion of passion, since that’s exactly how he’s looking at me. Like he’s about to attack, lift me up and steal everything I have until I fully belong to him.
And I think we all know I’d be fine with it.
But he doesn’t do that.
He stops right in front of me, ragged breaths flying in and out of him while he glares down at my body like he wants so much more than he even understands. More than either of us could handle.