I smile, not denying anything. “Not specifying is a rookie mistake.”
She inhales sharply, visibly close to spiritual homicide.
“Yoga is meant to calm the mind and body.”
“I’m perfectly calm.” I try to be. An erection under these pants can’t be hidden, and yes, thanks, I’d like to avoid looking like a tent.
“Sure. I can tell.”
I instinctively look down to check, but… no, she didn’t mean that.
She moves behind me to correct my position.
Her fingers brush my shoulders, then my back.
It’s a light, professional touch.
But it doesn't take much for me to feel ignited.
“Relax your shoulders,” she murmurs.
Fuck her voice…
“Impossible.”
“Why?”
I turn slightly, just enough to catch her gaze. I find myself dangerously close to her breasts.
“Because you’re too close.”
She freezes for half a second. Maybe she didn't expect such bluntness.
But you know what, Sloane? I’m not here to pretend I’m not turned on.
I’m not here to pretend I don’t desperately want more.
I’m not here to pretend that since that night, you haven’t become my erotic fantasy.
Instead, she goes back to pretending she doesn’t care. Or maybe she really doesn't.
“You need to learn control, Becker.”
“I’ve always preferred losing it.”
She shakes her head, but her cheeks betray a slight blush.
She tries to look away, fails.
“Next position,” she says in a firmer voice.
She kneels, lifts her arms, then bends backward in a perfect arch.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, but my brain has just decided that following instructions is no longer an option.
“Are you moving?” Now she sounds more irritated.
“I’m enjoying the view.”
