Page 22 of Cross Check Hearts

“Then let’s see what you’ve got,” she says and waves at the air in front of me with a challenging glint in her eyes.

I clear my throat and stand up as straight as I can, roll my shoulders a few times, then lift my arms up over my head in the best imitation I can manage.

Hannah’s smiling and nodding at me, so I must be doing alright. I keep going, bending forward as far as I can, but my hands don’t find the ground the way hers did, and my feet don’t stay flat on the floor either.

“That could’ve been better,” she says as I start to lift my head up toward her with my hands on my knees.

“That’s not what you were saying six months ago,” I murmur, my eyes locked right on hers, and heat flashes through me when I see goosebumps prickling across her bare arms. But she catches me off guard when she reaches out and puts her hand on my lower back and applies a little bit of pressure to get me to straighten out more.

But bent over like this with my face inches away from her, her hands on my body, and all of this sexual tension absolutely fucking sizzling between us, I feel like I’m going to combust.

Chapter11

Hannah

I feel Declan go rigid beneath my touch, and I freeze, my heart hammering.

He’s so sure of himself that I wasn’t expecting him to be so affected by my hands on him. I knew these private lessons were going to be awkward as soon as he called to ask about them, but I wasn’t prepared at all for it to be like this—for the sight of his muscles flexing beneath his shirt to get to me so much. Or for his proximity and the woodsy, masculine scent of him to take me right back to that night.

You knew exactly what you were getting into.

The thought flits through my head as if my more logical side is taunting me, but I still can’t take my hand off him. And it’s not like I can call the lessons off without some believable excuse to tell my dad, so Declan and I are just going to have to find some way to get through this without one or both of us falling to pieces.

Or making a huge mistake we can’t undo.

I clear my throat, steadying my breathing, and guide Declan out of the pose, bringing him back to a standing position. Our gazes meet again, and when I see the desire simmering in his amber-flecked eyes, I swear I feel something ignite inside me.

“How did that feel?” I ask, my throat constricting.

“I could feel it in my hips and hamstrings. That stretch was definitely getting into the right spot.”

“That’s good,” I say, nodding, but the air in the room feels charged with electricity and I don’t trust myself not to say or do something stupid without a task to distract us. “Let’s finish out the next few poses in the sequence.”

“How many more are we going to do?”

“Three.” I start to model the next pose for him before we get sidetracked again. “You’ll probably recognize this one. It’s called plank pose, and it’s kind of like a pushup,” I add as I lean forward again, letting my hands rest on my knees.

He groans softly. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“From this bent position, you want to put your hands flat on the floor, then stretch one leg back at a time until you’re on hands and feet, like this,” I say as I demonstrate it for him. “You want to try to keep your back as straight as possible, then hold the pose for several breaths.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Declan says with a laugh as he watches me, but I don’t look up at him.

I don’t think I can handle it, and it’s taking everything I have right now to keep this lesson on track, so I just stare straight ahead and pretend like I can’t see him in the mirror studying me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle with awareness.

After six breaths, I bring my feet back toward my hands and stand. “Your turn.”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to do that when my hands can’t touch the floor, but I’ll try,” he says and bends over, letting his hands dangle in front of him.

He tips forward until his hands touch the ground, then awkwardly juts one leg behind himself, then the other.

“Straighten out your back,” I tell him, although I don’t dare touch him again. With a grunt, he evens out a little bit but not fully. “Good start. Now hold it for six breaths.” Declan sucks in a breath, but on the exhale, his arms start to tremble, and he stops breathing. “You’ve got to keep breathing, otherwise you’ll tense up and hurt yourself.”

But Declan can’t hold the pose and topples over, and I can’t help laughing. He laughs along with me, the sound rich and genuine, and I know I shouldn’t be thinking like this, but I like that he can laugh at himself. There’s no denying he’s confident, but most pro athletes wouldn’t be caught dead doing something like this, let alone laughing about their failure at it.

“Mr. NHL Hotshot can’t handle a little plank pose?” I tease him, and he scowls up at me from the floor, although his eyes remain playful.

“Of course I can. I just don’t think I’ve used these particular muscles before.”

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