He raises his hands behind his head, elbows opened wide, biceps showing. “Never saw the point. Never had a reason to.”
He throws me a side look that’s enough to make my toes curl.
I need a break from all the testosterone.
“I need a shower,” I say, trying to figure out a way to get out from under the covers without him seeing me naked. Ridiculous, I know.
“Want company?” Archie offers. “I’m the best at soaping up.”
“No doubt,” I say sincerely. “But I prefer to use my own room.”
“Sure,” he says with half a shrug, pointedly staring at me as if he knows I’m embarrassed to get up while he’s looking.
But you know what, Mr. Cocky? If I’m not exactly bold by nature, I can sure fake it till I make it, especially when someone prods my pride. Acting carefree, I throw the sheets away from my body and hop off the bed, taking my time retrieving my clothes from wherever we’ve tossed them around the room. It’s a reverse striptease. But it works just fine. Archie’s eyes never leave my skin, I can tell even when I’m giving him my back. And his hungry expression as I pull the zipper of my little black dress up tells me I’m going to pay for the improvised performance next time he gets his hands on me. Ah, well, two can play the game.
My final act is to move out to the patio to retrieve my shoes. I pull one on and lean against the French windows, standing halfway inside the room to pull on the other.
“One last thing,” I say, straightening up and smoothing the creases of my skirt down. “No one can know about our… arrangement. Especially not my sister.”
“I won’t tell if you don’t.”
“Okay, but in public, we have to act as if we don’t know each other. Like, at all.”
Archie leans forward on the bed, the sheets rolling to the side and showing more distracting skin than I care to deal with right now. It’s hard to keep my tone stern when so many muscles are on display.
“I can manage that,” he says.
“Very well.” I give my pencil skirt one last straightening shimmy and head for the door. “See you later.”
I exit and close the door behind me, leaning my back against it for a moment. I let out a long exhale. Acting cool is exhausting. My heart is beating so fast I could’ve just come back from a—Aargh!
The door supporting my weight opens unexpectedly, and I tumble to the floor, landing on the carpet like a sprawled starfish. Above me, Archie is doing his best not to laugh while he looks down at me. My only consolation is that he’s pulled on his boxer shorts before coming to the door. I wouldn’t have cared for the fresh perspective on his… mmm… Pickle? Willy? Banana?
Oh gosh, and now he knows I’m thinking about his… Princess Sofia?
“You forgot your purse.” He dangles the black clutch above me and offers me a hand to stand up.
I make a point of getting up on my own. Then, having forever lost all my coolness, I quickly grab my bag, nod an embarrassed thank you, and make a run for it.
***
Back in the safety of my room, I contemplate taking a cold shower. I sure could use one. But who enjoys a cold shower? And do people really take voluntary ones? I don’t think so. And my muscles are too sore from last night anyway to put them through a freeze fest. Honestly, I should skip the shower altogether and go for a bath—but there’s not enough time for that, not if I want to catch the 8 a.m. yoga class I saw on the resort’s activities schedule. I need the stretching, and to practice some guided relaxation techniques.
I compromise with a short but scorching hot shower, and change into black leggings and a neon pink tank top. In the lobby, I follow the signs to the detached cabana where the class will be held. When I reach it, I’m fifteen minutes early and only the teacher—a medium-height, super-lean brunette in a ponytail—is here. To keep busy, I grab a yoga mat, position it to the far left side of the giant thatched hut with sliding glass walls that are now closed, and enjoy the view while I stretch my thighs.
I’m balancing on my left leg, holding my right foot close to my butt with one hand in a standing quad stretch, when a warm breath brushes against my neck.
“Morning,” Archie says.
And all I can say for myself is that I manage not to tumble at this man’s feet for the second time in less than an hour. I narrow my eyes at him and follow his movements as he grabs a yoga mat and places it next to mine.
“Are you stalking me now?” I hiss. “I said no contact during the day.”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “Just here for the yoga, honey.” And then, leaning in closer so that only I can hear, he adds, “Do you think I could hold some of the positions from last night without regular training?”
My entire body flames up at the comment, but I’m spared the need to come up with a smart retort by the arrival of other hotel guests. I just scowl at him in a back-off way and step on my mat, pointedly staring forward.
Not a very long-sighted strategy. I should’ve moved to the other side of the cabana. Because from here, I’m either facing his well-rounded buns that even yoga pants can’t hide, or am all too aware he’s turned toward my rear end. And as someone once said, leggings never lie. No matter that mine are the super covering type; I feel naked.
Ah! So much for an hour of meditation and relaxation. Yoga is stressing me out more than having to talk to the dude. I should’ve taken a bath; that’s where I should be right now, soaked to the neck in hot, bubbly water. Instead, I’m stuck two feet away from the very man I was trying to wash out of my system.
I’m so on edge I don’t immediately grasp what the teacher—Miranda—is saying. I automatically nod like the rest of the class, not knowing what I’m agreeing to. Must be something good if everyone else is on board.
“Very well,” our instructor says, smiling at us. “Let’s all pair off.” She wiggles a finger between Archie and me.
Oh gosh, what did I say yes to? This is about to turn into the yoga session from hell.
“As I was saying,” Miranda continues. “Acro Yoga is not a discipline for everybody, but I practice it often and teach it as well, and it has helped me detox a little from our lives spent holding devices. Acro is as much about the physical and platonic touch. It’s a group activity that builds a sense of community, as we have to hold hands with strangers and trust in them. In short, I love it, and I always try to promote its practice and encourage my students to try it out.” Miranda smiles enthusiastically. “But beware, it can be addictive. Ready?”
The class yells a widespread, “Yeah!”
“Let’s do it.” She claps her hands once. “Today, I’ll walk you through a few basic exercises that I hope won’t be too challenging for anyone.” She gives us another encouraging smile. “So, let’s start with the very basics. To practice Acro Yoga, you need one person to play the role of base and one to be the flyer. Usually, the stronger, heavier person is the base.”
Archie and I stare at each other, silently agreeing he’s going to be the base.