“I don’t know, maybe like six months ago.”
He grabs my messenger bag and the pink yoga mat out of my hand and leads me to one of the many unused rooms on the first floor of the house.
“We’ll do yoga in here. I even set the temperature of the room to ninety degrees so it feels more like hot yoga.”
“You can alter the temperature of one room in the house? I’ve never heard of that.”
“It’s called a zone heating system. I had it put in because it’s energy efficient, and I don’t have to heat the entire house at the same temperature. If I want, I can just make it warmer in certain rooms, like my bedroom, during the winter months. Same thing with the air conditioning in the summer.”
“Look at you being all energy conscious. I must be rubbing off on you.”
“A little.”
He licks the corner of his mouth in the most sexy way.
Oh God, I must be PMSing.
“The heat is supposed to be good for the soreness in your knee, right?” He asks. “Oh wait, forget I said anything. We’re not supposed to be talking about your knee anymore. I’m done with that.”
“You’re making progress, Bacchetti.” I grin. “Tonight is just about two friends having a hot yoga session and maybe some popcorn afterwards. No, take care of Mia chit-chat. It’s a habit I’m determined to break you out of.”
After several minutes of warm-ups and our usual yoga routine that we have done before, Rush decides he wants to try a few new moves that including him lifting me. He even has examples of the poses on his phone for a visual reference.
“I’m going to lift you up like this,” he shows me. “It’ll help increase my core strength.”
We’ve never tried couple yoga poses before, but I hesitantly agree.
“Okay, but first let’s wipe down. All this sweat is gross.”
“That’s the point of hot yoga.”
“If you want to lift me, you’ll wipe down.”
“Fine,” he chuckles.
Rush takes a clean white towel that’s folded in the room's corner and wipes himself down. The innocent act seems down right salacious to watch. Each of his sculpted muscles ripple as he dries himself off from head to toe. Then he grabs another towel, but instead of handing it to me, he gently wipes me down next. He starts with my forehead and my nose, then methodically wipes the sweat, dabs the sweat away from my arms, chest, stomach and legs.
Holy shit, that was erotic.
“Ready?” He asks in his rich, baritone voice.
“Uh, huh?”
Rush lies on his back with his knees to his chest.
“Lay your hips on my feet,” he instructs. “Just like the picture.”
I position my hips while his hands anchor my shoulders. Then he extends both of his legs and arms and lifts me face down into the air. I’m impressed that we are actually pulling off an intermediate pose like this. I make sure to extend my entire body stiff as a board as he holds me steady as if I’m light as a feather.
The two of us remain focused and determined to maintain the hold while looking into each other’s eyes or more aptly put into each other’s souls. It’s the most vulnerable I think we’ve ever been with each other.
“You want to try another?” he asks in a deep, raspy voice.
“Sure.”
This time we try an even more challenging pose. He shows me the example and I cringe a little.
“I don’t know, Rush, this one looks hard.”
