Page 48 of Stripped

“Yoga is supposed to be relaxing, meditative, it's not supposed to make you want to dance.”

I huffed and went back to my mat.

“Since you're still shaky, we'll start with seated poses.”

He put his mat in front of mine and faced me. “Just do what I do,” he said. “I'll correct your form if I see anything off.”

He twisted and contorted and I did my best to follow him. The stretches felt pretty good, but I wasn’t back to my normal level of energy and I ran out of gas pretty quickly.

I didn't even have to make apologies. “You need a break,” he said. “Do you want to crash upstairs on the couch for a while? We could watch a movie.”

A movie? Why would I need a movie? What I wanted was to get comfy on that yoga mat and give my full-attention to Zane's half-naked body contortions. “I'm good here,” I said. “I don't want to interrupt your workout.”

He gave me a look, a sort of a smirk, like he didn't believe me.

“Really, I've never done yoga before. I want to learn more about it.”

“Want me to turn off the music?”

The music had faded into the background and I'd forgotten all about it until he mentioned it. As soon as he did, it was like he'd turned it up to full-volume. “Yes, if it won't affect your workout.”

“I can manage.” He turned off the music and went back to his mat. He did some standing exercises that twisted his body and put different muscles on full display. It was making my heart beat faster just watching him, I was getting a workout and I didn't even have to move.

He did this one exercise, where he bent at the waist and stuck his butt in the air and then he dropped into a plank and slid down until his back was arched and his head was back. I don't know what it was called, but all I could think about was him moving like that over me, him pressing his naked body and all that warm skin against me.

I bit back a moan. Maybe I should have gone upstairs.

His head swung around and he looked at me in surprise. Did I moan aloud? I must have, or he saw something encouraging in my expression, because his lips turned up in a wicked smile and he crawled over to me on all fours. “You know,” he said. “Yoga poses can be fun in the bedroom.”

“Can they?” I asked, my voice raspy. Damn it, there were no words for what this guy did to me. I cleared my throat. “I don't think I'm flexible enough for that.”

“You don't have to be flexible.” He crossed his legs and sat with his back straight. “Come here. Sit on my lap.”

I went to him and sat on his lap, because I was tired of fighting him. I was tired of denying myself what I wanted. I'd told him we couldn't have a relationship, I'd told him I wasn't staying in Mule Creek, it was on him if he got attached.

“Wrap your legs around me.”

I sat on his lap, my legs wrapped around his waist. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me tight against him. I laced my arms around his neck. I looked into his eyes, expecting him to kiss me, but he didn't make a move.

“Um, so we just sit here?”

“Just enjoy the moment,” he said. “Let it be what it will be.”

I would have rolled my eyes but I was tingling everywhere my skin touched his and I could feel him under me, his length slowly hardening, thickening. I'd seriously thought he was feeding me some line, but he didn't make a move, didn't try to kiss me or cop a feel. He just stared into my eyes. “Just breathe,” he said. “Focus on your breath.”

So, I breathed. I stared into his eyes and I concentrated on breathing in and out. I noticed the flecks of green mixed in with the amber and brown in his eyes, the freckle in his brow line, the tiny bump on his nose that suggested it had been broken and healed wrong. I noticed that his lips were soft and so, so kissable. I felt his chest moving against mine, felt opened up and exposed to him in a way I'd never felt when I'd stripped naked in front of strangers.

And suddenly, it was too much. It wasn't just physical, it wasn't just anything. It felt like everything. I tried to wiggle off his lap, to get away, but he only held me tighter. “Just breathe,” he said. “It feels uncomfortable at first, but give it time. Breathe into it.”

I didn't want to breathe anymore. I wanted to get away. I needed to get away, because he was looking at me like I mattered to him.

I pushed against him. “I can't do this,” I said. “I'm not…” And I realized what I was so afraid of, why I was pushing so hard against the attraction I felt for him. I wanted him. I wanted him more than I'd ever wanted anything in as long as I could remember. Except I didn't just want sex, I wanted to be a part of his life. I wanted him to walk down the street holding my hand and I wanted to come home to him every night. For a moment, a vision flashed of him holding an infant, smiling at me and I wanted that, god I wanted that so much. But I couldn't have it. If I gave into him, if I let myself fall into this fantasy before I had a stable job and a dependable income, then everything that felt so good now could become toxic and horrible later.

He pulled me tighter against him. “I won't ask for anything, Abby. I know you're leaving, that maybe all we have is this moment. But I want it anyway, because we'd be idiots to throw it away.”

He made a good point and he was looking at me so intently, like he saw every part of me and still wanted more, that it brought tears to my eyes. I pressed my lips to his and I kissed him to get him to stop looking at me.

It was like I'd lit a match and thrown it on kerosene. He groaned and kissed me back, hard, almost bruisingly hard. And it felt amazing. It felt like nowhere near enough.

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