Page 38 of Kneel with the King
“Next time,” he says softly, “ask.”
His hand brushes the side of my face.
I don’t flinch, but I don’t lean in, either. I stand there, motionless, blood thudding in my ears, skin flushed and hot.
He straightens again, composed as ever, and walks out.
The door closes behind him.
I sit on the bed, cock still aching, heart hammering against my ribs like it’s trying to escape.
I don’t move.
And I can’t stop playing those words around in my mind like a loop.
“Next time, ask.”
All the King’s Men
Asher
I don’t knowwhy I go. Maybe I need to feel something normal. I’ve never been into yoga or meditation, but according to the schedule that someone slid under the door just as I got out of the shower, it’s optional butencouragedfor all couples.
FRIDAY 6 AM ACTIVITY 1 - COLD PLUNGE
FRIDAY 9 AM ACTIVITY 2 - COUPLES MORNING FLOW
REST
FRIDAY 3:30 PM - TRUST HIKE
I’m not expecting much.
The yoga studio smells like some kind of herb I can’t name but makes my nostrils burn. It’s evident I don’t belong here, and when I look down at my casual black slacks and white button-up, I realize I’m wholly overdressed.
At least I have an undershirt on—otherwise, I might overheat in this warm room before the class is over.
Everyone’s barefoot and wearing spandex—even Jacques. Walter is in sweatpants with no shirt—his abdomen surprisinglytoned—and my eyes flick over to King briefly, who is wearing the same dark gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt.
He doesn’t look at me, but I notice the extra yoga mat next to his.
I’m three seconds away from faking an illness when the instructor walks in, and my entire nervous system short-circuits.
She’s stunning. Not the usual yoga-glow influencer energy, but something quieter. There’s something familiar about her—dark hair, golden skin, petite frame with muscles that can only be honed from an active yoga lifestyle.
Her hazel eyes sweep the room with calm, practiced detachment—until they land on me.
She pauses, then smiles.
“You’re Asher.”
I feel the whole room turn to stare at me.
I blink. “I— Sorry, have we met?”
“Not quite,” she says softly. “But I’ve heard a lot about you.”
My spine stiffens. I don’t like that—people who know things before I tell them. Between everything happening with King and work, this week has been full of unexpected surprises. As someone who thrives on control, it feels like constant whiplash.
