Page 76 of The Billionaire's Baby
"Fine, fine," I huff, "you’ve made your point. And by the way, you're evading the topic."
"What topic?"
"The yoga poses." I tilt up my chin. "Bet you can't keep up with me."
"Is that a dare?"
He walks over to stand in front of me, and since I am still on my knees, it means I am at eye level with his crotch… Which is tented, and the shape of his length is clearly outlined by the fabric of his jeans.
"Don’t you ever wear sweats?"
"Sweats?" His lips curl as if it’s a dirty word.
I lean my head back to meet his gaze. "Yeah, you know, the loose pants with an elastic drawstring that men wear at home, because they’re comfortable?"
He stares back at me.
"Right. Of course, not. It doesn’t go with your image, now does it?"
"And what image would that be?"
“That tight-assed, stick-up-your-butt, grumpy-pants, alphahole who hates everything about the world around him."
"That’s accurate." He folds his arms over his chest. "And for your information, I prefer jeans to sweats." He tilts his head. "Of course, if you want to see me in them, I’d be happy to oblige, especially since it allows for easy access." His grin widens. "Is that why you asked me about my preference in clothes? You want to make it easy for you to cop a feel, huh?"
"Argh." I make a gagging sound. "Why does our every conversation lead back to sex?"
"Because, you want to get pregnant?" he reminds me.
I sniff, then lower myself to plank position. "Stop trying to distract me and join in."
"I could beat you at yoga, any day."
"Really?" I bite the inside of my cheek. "Let's see you keep up, Romeo."
He drops down into plank position next to me. His movements are fluid; his biceps bulge and his shoulders flex. My throat dries and I almost lose my balance.Shit, get your head back in the game. Focus, focus.
I rise up to side plank. He follows, his breathing not even speeding up
Bloody ballache, need to up the ante now.
I move to all fours in the tabletop position. He follows. Then I place my knees under my hips and my hands under my shoulders.
I draw my shoulder blades together. Raise my right arm and left leg, keeping my shoulders and hips parallel to the floor. I tuck my chin into my chest to gaze down at the floor.
He follows, manages to get into position, only to fall over. He tries again, fails. Growls aloud, glances at me, and copies my position. Manages to hold it for a few seconds, then collapses, sweat gleaming on his forehead. "Bloody hell," he swears, "how the hell could it be that difficult?"
I hold the position for a few seconds more, then lower back down to the starting position. "Not as easy as it looks, huh?" I curve my lips and smile sweetly at him. "Want to try again?" I sit back on my heels.
"Yes," he nods, "but not yoga." He waggles his eyebrows, as he rises to his feet. "How about you continue your practice while I watch?"
"How about you sod off?" I rise to my feet and turn toward the bedroom, then squeak when his fingers tighten around my wrist.
"Not so fast, babe."
I turn to stare at him. "Yes?" I school all expression from my face.
"I told you to continue your practice, didn’t I?"
