Page 52 of Wrath
This was a man who put his body on the line to protect people like her. He put his life on the line every day. The notion almost floored her. His job was dangerous. Lethal. Every time he went to work, he might never come back.
And that thought sat too close to home. If she ever decided to be with someone, she wanted to be with them forever. Live together, die together. It was selfish, but it was all her heart could take.
When her eyes lifted to his watchful gaze, the smug male challenge in his expression dissipated. They shared a moment of naked vulnerability, and then Misha snapped her sight to the east.
“Okay,” she said in her soft yoga teacher voice. “It’s time to begin. Let’s bring our feet to the edge of the mat, and dangle our arms to the side, palms to the front. Close your eyes and breathe. Be present. Be aware. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Inhale the future, exhale the past.”
She slid a glance sideways to see if Wyatt complied. Standing almost a full head taller, he was the epitome of the mountain pose she was about to instruct. Perhaps she should be facing him for her sun salutations. He certainly had presence. And heat. Look at all that gorgeous heat.
Focus. Back to the pose.
With the patience of a Zen master, Misha led Wyatt through a series of poses, flowing from one form into the other. The lethal man kept up, never once wobbling or breaking hold. Downward Dog, Plank Pose, Upward Facing Dog… it seemed effortless for him. Misha couldn’t stop stealing glances at his tight, contorted body, glossy with a sheen of light sweat. Part jealousy, part awe, part feminine appreciation clogged her mind and gave her little respite from her jingling nerves and pumping pulse. After a few sets of salutations, she stopped and collected the cup of hot water.
“Okay. You seem to have that down, so I want to try something else. Hold this.”
Lip quirking, he gently took the cup.
Damn. “It was supposed to be boiling hot, but, um… I guess it still might work.” She looked in his soul-cutting eyes and lost her train of thought. He watched her so intently, so patiently, it frightened her.
He should be at least slightly pissed. She’d avoided talking about his letter, but he was relaxed, as though he knew something she didn’t. Any other man who’d released that number of bottled-up secrets would be more confrontational, maybe even take off. But he was still there. When she noticed a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, she cleared her throat.
“Okay. So, hold the cup. Close your eyes and remember your breathing. I’ll try to get you riled up. Wrath is your sin, right?”
He nodded.
“So, I’ll try to get you angry, and you need to keep yourself calm. If you fail, you’ll squash the cup and the hot water will spill onto your hands. Hopefully, you dislike the hot water enough that you learn to center yourself and avoid using excess strength. Sound good?”
Wyatt’s dark eyebrow arched, he popped the lid from the cup, and took a sip. Then he dunked a finger in the liquid.
“Not hot anymore, huh?”
He shook his head.
“Guess I shouldn’t have stopped to gawk at the chalk artwork.” Disappointment slumped her shoulders. “God, I’m all over the place sometimes. And I was looking forward to harassing you. Bummer. We’ll have to think of something else.”
Wyatt positioned himself on the mat, standing with the cup in his hands. He shut his eyes and stilled.
What was he doing?
After a minute, he opened one eye and looked at her. He made a wind up sign with his hand.
Telling me to hurry up?
“You want me to harass you anyway?” She couldn’t stop the grin forming on her face and the bounce in her step as she went to stand inches from his front. He nodded and she clapped her hands. “Excellent. This will be fun. For me, anyway. For you, I’m going to take you to the cleaners!”
A snort popped out of Wyatt, and then he closed his eyes and waited.
“Okay, okay, let’s see. Trash talk.” Misha’s mind whirled through so many one-liners. Where to start? “Okay. Your yoga was really bad. I mean, like, really bad. It almost looked like you were playing a game of Twister.”
His lip twitched, but he held his eyes closed and remained still.
Yeah that sucked. Worst trash talker, ever.
All right, then.Let’s make this harder.
Misha walked around Wyatt. Her voice turned hard and venomous. “Your bechamel sauce is disgusting. I didn’t want to say anything to you before, but the last time you made it at the restaurant, it was all lumpy and floury. I think it may have curdled. You need to go back to culinary school.”
At this, his lip twitch turned into a smirk.
