Page 77 of This Life of Mine

His mouth twitches. “Quite the distraction.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” I say smiling.

He moves in behind me to correct my positioning, and the first thing my body registers isn’t his voice—it’s how completely he eclipses me. There’s no way I could take someone his size down.

I follow his instructions, stepping in, instead of back, twisting the way he tells me.

The grip breaks cleanly.

I blink. “Oh.”

“There you go,” he says, clearly impressed. “Again.”

We repeat it. And again.

Each time smoother. Each time closer.

His hand slides briefly to my lower back as he corrects me, and when he leans down to speak near my ear, my traitorous brain supplies an image I hadn’t summoned—how easily he could lift me, pin me, hold me steady without effort.

The idea lands hot and immediate, straight down between my legs.

“So,” he says casually, like my pulse hasn’t skyrocketed, “this last date of yours. Successful?”

I glance back at him over my shoulder. “If you measure success by being told I’mnot very petite, then wildly.”

He stills.

“Someone actually told you that?” he asks.

“Mm-hmm. Apparently, the 90s thin is still in, and I don’t fit that model.” I shrug. “He suggested I’d be ‘perfect’ if I lost a few pounds.”

Alex’s jaw tightens—not angry, but unmistakably displeased.

“Sounds like an insecure dick to me,” he says simply.

I smile despite myself. “You don’t have to—“

“I’m not sparing your feelings,” he interrupts. “You have beautiful curves. They suit you. Anyone who makes you feel otherwise doesn’t deserve to touch you.”

Something warm and unfamiliar lingers. And the word “touch” comes so freely from his mouth that it makes me think about what it would be like for him to touch me. To tease and tantalize. To provoke something feverish.

He steps in behind me to adjust my stance, hands briefly at my hips—grounding, devastatingly respectful.

“Weight forward,” he murmurs. “Good. Now—twist.”

I do and land a perfect release.

“There you go,” he says. “You’re learning fast.”

“I’m highly motivated.”

“I noticed.”

I turn slightly, catching his gaze. “So…are you single?”

The question hangs between us.

“Yes,” he answers after a beat.