477. Chapter 477

She’s good at this.

She is.

J’onn gave her a very thorough training, insisting that she benefit from health disciplines and physical regimens from all over the world.

Much to her chagrin – she’s not exactly a calm person – that had included various yoga practices.

So like it or not, she’s good at this.

Not that she told Maggie that, wanting to roll in and impress her with her skills.

She means to impress her, but when Maggie picks her up from the apartment in those pants – those damn pants – Alex forgets everything she’s ever learned about yoga, about breathing, about existing.

Because damn.

Her girlfriend is fine.

So she sets up her mat behind her – she can impress her later – behind her, because damned if she’s not going to… look… and enjoy… And anyway, it certainly doesn’t seem like Maggie minds the attention.

Because she gives a knowing smirk over her shoulder, and she tosses a wink at her girlfriend right before they start.

A wink that sends a lump into Alex’s throat, because god, she wants her so badly.

Right now.

But right now is not the time, because right now they’re surrounded by other queer women, and right now she has to focus on getting her muscles back into the routine of this slow, steady movement instead of her typical fast, rough pace.

Her professional pride – the pride that she has in J’onn’s training – keeps her focused through at least a few poses. Keeps her body calm and her eyes off Maggie’s body for at least a few minutes.

But then she looks up, and god, her girlfriend’s ass. In those pants.

She loses her breath and she loses her grip, and her chin hits the ground enough to make her grunt.

Enough to make Maggie snort without even turning around, because Maggie knows her girlfriend.

So she knows exactly what happened.

“Trouble focusing back there, Danvers?” she whispers, and the women around them – and the instructor – all smirk softly.

“We’ll switch positions next time, see how you do, Sawyer.”

“Flash grenade says I’ll do better than you.”

“Bring it, Maggie.”

“Ladies.”

“Sorry.”

“She started it.”

“God, we’re really that couple, aren’t we?”

“Shhh. But yes, you are. Good on you, Maggie.”

“Yeah. She really is.”