Jesus Christ. I’m being attacked by a gaggle of insatiable sex-hungry women.
“I’m right here,” I grumble. “I’ve got working ears.”
“Leave him be, ladies.” Clodagh smirks at me. “Mr. Quinn scares easily. Ah, here come the guys.”
I turn to see a group of brawny men stroll over, wearing Irish football jerseys. They look like they’re in their twenties.
I feel the excitement ooze from Teagan.
“I’m watching you,” I warn her.
She rolls her eyes in disgust and scuttles away from me, ashamed of being seen with her embarrassing dad in public.
“Hi, guys,” Clodagh says to the group of men.
Looks like Clodagh has a lot of guys under her spell. They surround her, asking her how she is and telling her she looks great.
“How’s the new gig, Clodagh?” one of them asks in a thick Irish accent. “Orla was saying your man’s a right anal-”
“La, la, la!” Clodagh shrills. “This is my boss, Killian!”
The younger guys glance at me warily.
Clodagh clears her throat and claps her hands together. “Alrighty then, let’s get started.”
I stand to the side as the rest of the group unrolls their mats on the grass. Clodagh places her pink mat at the front.
“Teagan, this one is yours.” She hands her a mat. “Put it down beside Marg there.”
To my daughter’s delight, some of the guys peel their tops off. God, give me strength.
“This mat is yours, Killian.” Clodagh holds out a mat, smiling at me.
My brows lift. “I’m not participating.” I jut my chin to a bench. “I’ll watch from over there.”
“Nonsense,” a woman barks beside me.
The rest of them voice their objections loudly.
Clodagh walks to a patch of grass beside one of the women and sets the mat down. When she bends down, I have a perfect view of her chest disappearing into the tiny sports top.
“You need the benefits of yoga more than anyone.” She smiles innocently. “Sir.”
I clench my jaw. “No chance.”
“It’s only yoga, Killian. I’m not asking you to stick your head in a fire. Break from the manual for a change.”
I grunt back at her. Her comments piss me off. I look at my daughter rolling her eyes at me and the football players eyeing me smugly, and for some inexplicable reason, I want to prove to Clodagh that I’m not the uptight guy she thinks.
The women cheer and Teagan groans as I make my way to the yoga mat and take off my T-shirt in an unashamed act of peacocking. My body was built strong even if I didn’t lift weights; I got my well-built frame from my useless father’s genes.
Clodagh’s eyes go wide as she stares at my chest. “Great! Hop on your mat, and let’s get started.”
I smirk at how flustered she is.
She flops down on her ass in a cross-legged pose, her knees touching the grass. I don’t know what the technical term is, but damn, it’s sexy.
My thighs are tight from running, and my knees are nowhere near touching the grass. Maybe I have an inflexible Dad bod.
“Is this your first time at yoga, sweetheart?” queries the woman next to me, who looks to be in her seventies.
Sweetheart? I quirk my lips at her. “It is.”
“You have a wonderful teacher.” She beams and gives me a wink.
“Today, we’re going to give you a really deep stretch,” Clodagh says in a loud, soothing voice. “I know you guys had a match last night, and some of you work in high-stress environments.” She catches my gaze and smiles. “I want all your worries and stress to melt away.”
She takes us into stretches. We’re supposed to have our eyes closed. I watch her chest hitch up and down as she takes long, deep breaths, ordering us to do the same. Her lips form a perfect O as she breathes in and out.
Without warning, her eyes open and catch me watching her.
Blushing, she continues, “Okay, let’s do a nice deep straddle stretch.”
She opens her legs until they’re almost in a complete split.
Fuck.
“Open your thighs as far as you feel comfortable. Place your hands in front of you and give me a nice circle with your hips.”
She glances around the group as she circles her hips.
I’m entering dangerous territory. I wasn’t expecting yoga to be so sexual.
“Keep your back flat. Open your chest,” she instructs us. “Ugh. I am so tight today. How are you guys?”
Fuck.
You’re killing me, Clodagh.
Blood flows south without my permission to my thickening dick.
Jesus, not here.
Not in front of my daughter.
Some of the group answers her with seemingly innocent responses.
I didn’t realize Yoga with Clodagh would provide the perfect conditions for unwanted public arousal. Which makes me a fool, considering I’ve been jerking off to her online videos.
Thank God Teagan chose to stay far away from me. She already thinks of me as an embarrassing dad. This would make her disown me, and I wouldn’t blame her.
We begin the first position, standing in a close-legged pose with our feet touching.
“Keep your back straight and go down into a chair pose.”
I blink. Where the fuck do I put my balls? Am I supposed to tuck them between my legs? They’re already starting to ache from my depraved thoughts.
I let out an involuntary groan, and Clodagh glances at me.
“Killian, you can separate your legs a few inches if you feel discomfort.”
She smiles at me, all sweet and innocent. “Good,” she purrs. “Well done, Killian.”
No one fucking tells me well done.
The sorceress contorts her body into positions that make it impossible for me not to become aroused.
Did she plan this?
Clenching my jaw, I swallow hard to keep control. Is yoga supposed to make your fucking balls ache like this? They’ve enough fuel in them to fly a plane.