Page 139 of Rising Heat

She laughs and reaches for her shirt, and I watch her for a second longer than I need to.

We don’t do repeats.

Not like this. Not with someone who⁠—

I leave the thought where it is.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

darcy

Pilates, as it turns out, is a completely different experience when your body has recently been through something.

Something being gloriously dicked down by two two-hundred-pound firefighters.

I’m discovering this in real time while lying on the reformer staring at the ceiling and attempting to locate my core, which appears to have filed a formal complaint.

“Engage,” the instructor says.

I engage. Distantly.

I hold, barely and mostly mentally, while my body negotiates with me physically because I’ve spent the last few days in similar positions but for reasons that felt far more aligned with my personal goals.

“And breathe.”

I breathe and think about absolutely nothing. Definitely not the way Tyler’s lips felt on my neck, or the way Mack’s hands gripped me.

“From the top.”

Of course. Why wouldn’t we revisit the scene of the crime?

I do it from the top.

After class, I collapse onto a bench outside, my legs doing that pleasant kind of tremble that means something actually got accomplished. My water bottle sweats into my palm while I fish my phone out of my bag.

Bex

I need dates.

Darcy

For what?

Bex

You’ve sent me eleven “I’m fine ” texts in two weeks. The smile emoji, Darce.

Bex

You only use the smile emoji when you’re actively suppressing something.

Darcy

That’s because I AM fine…genuinely.

Bex

“Genuinely fine” is not a thing a fine person says.