Holt’s blue eyes staring at me from the center of the crowd, then him making his way toward me after being declared the winning bidder.
The feel of his mouth pressed against mine.
His hand clutching my hip.
A rush of air passes between my lips. My thighs clench, and I run my palms against the tops of my legs.
Why is my heart beating so fast? It should be slowing down, not racing. Yoga is supposed to be calming, like the sound of small tides rolling onto shore. Instead, I feel like I’m gripping the railing of a ship headed toward a hurricane. Why is my stomach in knots at the memory? Not in a way that makes me feel sick but in a way that has mefeeling.
I cock my head to the side and swallow, telling myself to get a grip. I forced myself to stop thinking about Holt at work. It worked for a while, but now he’s back, distracting me.
Raising my shoulders, I tilt my head to the side and force the feelings away. I open my eyes and glance around at my fellow classmates. I’ve become friends with a handful of them over the past year, but not so much that we take our friendships past the front doors of the yoga studio.
“Welcome, everyone,” the instructor, Alison, begins, clasping her hands in front of her. “We’re going to start with a bit of gentle yoga today, intended to calm your body and mind. I’m going to start with a half lotus position and lift my arms out and over my head, making sure to take in deep breaths along the way.”
I mimic Alison’s movements while closing my eyes. Calming meditative music plays overhead, but it’s quickly drowned out by the thunderous sound of applause. A small groan crawls up my throat as a flickering memory of blue eyes invades my mind. His deep, velvety voice hits my ear as his hand wraps around my hip, pulling me toward him.
Nice to see you again, Wallflower? Are you ready?
“Okay, now that we’ve loosened up, we’re going to transition into a tabletop position.”
My heart jumps into my throat at Alison’s suddenannouncement. Peeling my eyes open, I shake the memory away and blow out a heavy breath.
What the fuck is wrong with me? One kiss from Holt, and now I’m suddenly unable to think of anything or anyone else?
I shift from my seated position, placing both hands near the front of the mat. With straightened arms, I press my knees into the mat, ensuring my back is straight and my arms are even in front of me.
Looking up, I wait for Alison’s next instructions, but they never come.
Her focus is directed squarely over my shoulder.
“Um, excuse me,” she says, sitting back on her heels, her eyebrows pulled together. “Can I help you?”
Blinking, I slowly glance over my shoulder. My neck prickles and nerves dance down my spine. Uneasiness with a dash of excitement settles in the pit of my stomach. Gasping, I stare , wide-eyed, at the tall, handsome, blue-eyed menace in a suit. He stands behind me, toward the back end of my yoga mat. Sensing he’s caught my attention, he looks down and sends me a wink.
My face immediately falls.
Am I dreaming? Is he truly here, crashing my yoga class?
“Sir.” Alison breaks our trance, stealing Holt’s attention. And mine! “Can I help you?”
“Oh.” Holt runs his hand through his hair and smirks before planting his hands on his hips. “I’m here for the class.”
Alison surveys him, clearly not understanding, considering he looks like he’s ready to do anything but take a yoga class.
“I don’t think so.” She presses her mouth together in disapproval. “You can’t just come in here without?—"
“Don’t worry.” Holt waves her off, hitching his thumb over his shoulder. His too-wide grin widens. “I paid for the session.”
He shrugs out of his suit jacket and carefully folds it in half before dropping it at the foot of my mat.
Alison stares at him deadpan before her eyes flick around the classroom, apparently waiting for someone to speak up and demand that Holt leave, but no one does. Aside from the quiet tunes filtering in the warm air, there’s not a single word of objection. Even I’m left speechless.
My mouth is still agape as Holt kneels between me and the woman beside me. He has no mat, and he looks ridiculous in his suit. I stifle a laugh at how out of place he looks. Something about a man as clean cut and expensive looking as him surrounded by meditative music and burning incense is comical. It’s like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.
He leans forward, pressing his hands to the strip of hardwood between my mat and the woman’s next to mine. Looking up, he waits for the next instruction from Alison.
She blinks and shakes off the interruption, then continues on with the class.
