Perfect Catch(84)

She turned her face so her mouth was closer to his. “Trying some advanced yoga poses.”

“You need to be careful not to push too fast.” He had no problem with yoga. Emma’s physical condition prior to the accident and surgery had given her the potential for full recovery. But some things simply took time.

“I’d be happy to show you what I was trying and you can tell me if it’s too much.”

There was something in her voice, even with the music thumping and the crowd noise rumbling around them that made his body react. He was sure Emma demonstrating any yoga poses would be too much—of something.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Chicken.”

Very likely.

They didn’t try to talk for a couple of minutes. Then he felt compelled to say, “It’s normal, you know. To still be stiff and sore at times. And you’re trying high level stuff.” It was normal. And it was good for him to remember that too. He hadn’t failed her. He’d put her back together and had done a hell of a job. She was healing. She was getting better. She was going to be fine.

He saw dozens of people every week in her same—and worse—condition. Their lingering aches and pains never bothered him.

But it bugged the hell out of him to think of Emma hurting.

“I know that, Nate.” She sounded frustrated. “That doesn’t make it not hurt. You say that to me all the time, and I’ll bet you say it fifty times a day to other people. And then you don’t see us for six weeks and by then it is better and you feel all great about yourself and what you did. But living with it day to day is different. So…shut up, okay?”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She was right, of course. So he did shut up.

They stood facing the stage and the floor below them. He was aware of every inch of her. Especially when she shifted again, this time to lean back against him slightly. He knew she might not even be aware of it. She was seeking a position that would take weight off her sore leg and leaning against a support would help with that. But the position, thanks to her heels, put her butt right against his fly.

He held his breath and tried to ignore it, making his mind focus on searching the crowd for his son.

Then she wiggled.

Whether she meant to or not, he couldn’t handle that. He put his hands on her hips to stop her squirming and moved her an inch forward. That was all he needed. An inch of space between their bodies.

He felt the tension in her body immediately and assumed that meant she either hadn’t intended the position to be what it was, or his hands made her stiffen up. Which could be good or bad.

After several seconds, he started to relax. But right when he thought maybe he was safe and again began his search for his son, Emma turned.

His hands skimmed over her body as she spun, and when she faced him, he wasn’t inclined to remove them.

“You want to make both of us feel better?” she asked.

He could hear her, but he didn’t want to miss anything. He put his hand to the back of her head, holding her still, and leaned in. “Tell me.”

She lifted onto her toes, her mouth right against his ear. “We try some of the high level things I want to do…together. Then you can see that it is actually hard for me and get off my ass about it…or you show me that it’s fine and alleviate my fears and then I’ll listen to all your instructions from here on out.”

He worked on simply breathing. He wanted to press her more firmly against the railing and test some of her hip range of motion right here and now. And he couldn’t deny that the idea of her listening to all his instructions from here on out was really fucking tempting. “I’m guessing we’re not talking about jogging now.”

“I hate jogging.”

“I don’t know much about yoga.”

“Then we’ll stay away from the yoga.”

He pulled back to look down at her. Dammit. He couldn’t sleep with her, but there were so many reasons that he wanted to and with her standing so close, the dark and the music and her scent and her lips right there…the reasons why it was a bad idea were fuzzy.

Nate didn’t do fuzzy. A woman who muddled his brain and distracted him so easily was the last person he should—and would—get involved with.

He liked to be in control in his relationships.

It came from a history of a controlling son-of-a-bitch grandfather and two women who had made choices, without his input, that had changed his life profoundly.

He was never going to be in a position again where someone else made decisions that affected his life and his loved ones.

Staring at Emma now, he shook his head. It was ironic, but he loved strong, independent women and knew that none of the women he was attracted to would put up with his chauvinistic, controlling tendencies in a full-blown relationship. Therefore, he kept women specifically compartmentalized to the bedroom. There they didn’t seem to mind him being demanding.