Page 49 of Ignite

No. He’s watching me. Eyes locked.

“You waiting for me so you can get a look?” he whispers, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

I ignore him and drop to all fours.

“No. But you are, aren’t you?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at him.

I sit back into the stretch with a moan. “That feels so good.”

I make sure he hears every syllable.

“Hallie,” he groans, adjusting himself.

“Come on, beastie. One last stretch. Be a good boy.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and exhales hard. “You’re making this really fucking hard for me, trouble.”

“I’m making quite a few things hard.”

I wiggle my ass in the air.

“Stop. It. Or I can’t be held accountable for my actions in here. Is exhibitionism your thing?”

My body burns.

“What’s the blush for, darlin’? Worked out too hard, or you turned on?”

I sit back on my knees and huff. “You’re distracting, Conan.”

His teeth flash in a grin. “Ditto.”

When the class finally ends, I roll up my mat, heart still pounding. I glance over. Conan’s already watching me, his expression unreadable.

“You’ve got a one-on-one session now, haven’t you?” I nod toward the instructor still hovering nearby.

“Still jealous?”

The class empties, whispers following us like shadows. But I’m locked in his gaze, my pulse screaming.

“Class is over, Conan.”

We’re the last two in the room. He steps closer, brushing my hair gently away from my face. His eyes darken.

“Hallie. What happened to your head? That looks like it hurt.” His voice softens, that Irish lilt wrapping around me like smoke.

“I—I tripped. Caught it on the table.”

He exhales sharply. His jaw tightens. His eyes drop to my side. My hands shake.

“Try again. The truth this time. I want full name, address, occupation, and fuck, blood type even. They aren’t getting away with this.”

My stomach knots. His fury is palpable, barely contained at this point.

“It was Ben,” I whisper.

“That fucker.”

He steps in, cupping my face. “When? Where? What did he do?”

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