Page 50 of Cross Check Hearts

I feel my cheeks burn. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I whisper back, but my smile gives me away.

I’m weirdly nervous and excited about seeing him again, and I don’t know what that says or what to do about it. I feel like I’m playing with fire when it comes to him, but I keep getting dangerously close to the flames and circling back for more. There’s something about him, something magnetic, that keeps luring me back in. And I’m starting to get to the point where I’m tired of fighting it or trying to deny it’s there.

Because after the things we shared with each other, and the kiss that cemented it, how could either of us deny it ever again?

I can still feel the weight of his confession about his dyslexia—how vulnerable he allowed himself to be with me, how he trusted me with something that had caused him pain. The memory of his face in that moment, open and honest, makes something in my chest ache. And then there was the way he listened when I told him about Casey, how he didn’t try to fix it or offer empty platitudes. He just… understood.

Shaking my head to clear it, I guide the class into child’s pose, the final one of the class, and instruct everyone to hold it for a few minutes to relax and bring themselves back to the room. But as I’m sitting on my knees with my forehead against the ground, I feel anything but settled. Declan is going to be here any minute, and suddenly I’m feeling super self-conscious.

I ran to the studio today after class, just like I normally do, and this more advanced class has been a real workout, so I hope I don’t look or smell like I’ve been put through the wringer when he gets here.

By the time I bring everyone out of the pose and end class, I decide to take the world’s fastest shower in the half hour or so that I have left before Declan arrives. Normally, I’d wait around and say goodbye to everyone as they leave, but as they start to pack up their things and stream toward the door, I hurry to the office where I keep my bag with my shower stuff and dart to the locker room.

As I pull back the shower curtain and switch the faucet on, a little voice in the back of my head nags at me, demanding to know why I care so much about how I look when I’m just going to get sweaty and mussed up again during my next lesson anyway. I know exactly why, but I can’t admit it, even to myself, so I just turn the water as hot as I can stand it and peel off my clothes.

The water instantly turns my skin red as it sprays my back and arms, but it feels amazing on my joints and muscles that are already a little angry with me for all I’ve put them through today. But even here, I can’t get my mind off Declan. Can’t stop thinking about the intense kiss we shared at the table, when he dared me to do exactly what I wanted—and the way I responded.

I’m still having a hard time understanding what it is, but there’s something about him that just sort of makes me lose control of myself. He has this natural way of slipping past all my defenses, of knowing exactly what to say and how to test my limits and push me right up to the edge, physically and mentally. I’ve never felt as off-kilter as I do when I’m around him, and when he kisses me like he did a few nights ago, I feel totally unmoored, like the whole world is spinning away from me.

I’ve spent years trying to be exactly what everyone expects of me—the perfect daughter to compensate for my parents’ loss, the dedicated law student despite my waning interest, the right kind of girlfriend for a lawyer like Aaron. With Declan, I don’t have to be any of those things. I can just be me—the me I’ve kept hidden away, the me with desires and dreams that don’t fit the neat box I’ve tried to force myself into.

I can’t stop thinking about the way his lips felt—on my neck, on my body, on my clit. Those thoughts bring me right back to that night at Opal and Oak when we lay tangled up in each other’s arms for hours, talking and kissing and fucking until we lost all track of time. Memories of our night together flash through my mind as vividly as if they just happened today, overlaid on the rush I felt in every inch of my body when I kissed Declan at the table the other night.

I remember how he traced my hummingbird tattoo with his tongue all those months ago, how he seemed to understand instinctively why I’d gotten it—a reminder that something small and fragile could still be incredibly strong. No one else has ever seen me so clearly or understood me so completely with so little explanation.

Before I realize what I’m doing or can think to stop myself, my hand slides down my stomach to my pussy to find my swollen clit. Just my fingers brushing against it like this drags a gasp out of my mouth and makes my knees buckle a little. With this much desire already burning in me, there’s no way I’m going to get through this session with Declan without saying or doing something reckless unless I take some of the edge off. I’m never going to keep my mind focused on the lesson if I don’t.

So I make sure the shower curtain is totally closed, then lean back against the tile wall. Its cool, smooth surface makes my skin ripple, but it’s a welcome break from the heat of the water and the flame that’s swirling inside me, begging to be let out. My eyes flutter shut as my fingers find my clit again, swirling across it as the hot water streams between my legs.

I try to stay focused on the sensations, but my mind inevitably wanders back to Declan. I can’t help thinking about what he’d be doing if he were here right now. I imagine him ripping back the shower curtain and catching me like this, with my legs spread and my fingers sliding in and out of myself.

He wouldn’t hesitate, he’d just rip his clothes off and step inside. I bet he wouldn’t even bother closing the curtain, he’d just push my legs apart with his and lift me up by the thighs, driving my body up the wall while his thick, hard cock pulses against my entrance.

I can practically hear his voice, that low rumble that vibrates through my entire body.“Let me take care of you, hummingbird.”

Fuck, I love the way he says that nickname.

I imagine him pushing into me as I shove two fingers deep into myself. And when my knuckles disappear inside, I curl my fingers to scrape them against my g-spot. My breath hitches in my throat and my head tumbles back against the shower wall, but in my mind, I see my legs wrapping around Declan’s waist, desperately pulling him as far into me as I can to stretch myself around that beautiful, thick cock he has.

I work my clit with my free hand, spinning my fingertips in hungry, ragged circles against it. The hot water mixes in, making it feel like Declan’s hot mouth and tongue on me, and I bite my lip to bite back the scream that’s bubbling in the back of my throat.

I imagine him whispering in French against my skin, just like he did that night, words I couldn’t understand but felt in my soul. I imagine his hands gripping my hips, holding me still for his thrusts, his eyes—those intense, captivating eyes—locked on mine, making sure I feel every single second of what he’s giving me.

“Declan!” I whimper as my orgasm grips me, and when my eyes flutter closed briefly, I swear I see him on his knees in the shower in front of me, sucking and lapping at my clit and folds as the water splashes against his back and wets his dark hair.

But the feeling is so intense that my eyes squeeze shut again, and my knees start trembling so hard I have to use the shower wall to steady myself. I’m gasping for breath, my clit throbbing from the release.

I stand there with the water raining down on me, and it isn’t until it starts to turn lukewarm that I feel like I can finally walk again without falling over.

I’ve never been like this before—so consumed by desire for someone that I can barely function. Not with Aaron, not with anyone. It scares me a little, this power Declan has over me, how completely he occupies my thoughts. But it thrills me too, making me feel alive in a way I haven’t in years. Maybe ever.

With shaking knees, I push myself away from the wall and finish showering quickly. I’ve lost all track of time while I’ve been in here, and despite the reel that just played in my mind while I got myself off, I’m not so sure I want Declan to actually find me in here like this—mostly because I don’t trust myself not to jump him if he did.

I turn off the water and reach for the towel I left hanging on the hook just outside the shower and pause for a few seconds to listen, mentally kicking myself for not thinking to lock the studio door while I was in here. But nothing reaches my ears other than the steady drip of the last bit of water that’s still draining out of the shower head, so I pull the towel over my head and hurriedly use it to dry my hair before I work it down the rest of my body.

I don’t have time to do anything with my hair, so I tie it back up in a rushed ponytail and fight to get my tight yoga pants and sports bra back on my damp body. When I’m done, I check my reflection to make sure I didn’t miss anything and that more skin isn’t showing than is supposed to be.

“Pull yourself together, Hannah,” I mutter to myself as I check my reflection one final time. “It’s just a yoga lesson.”

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