He gives me a devastating smile. “You can’t keep your hands off me, can you?”
My cheeks flush as I put my hands on his hips. With everyone else in the class, it’s been transactional, adjusting their limbs to get them into a fuller stretch, but with Jace, as soon as I put my hands on him, my fingers tingle, my heart thumps quicker, and my breathing shifts. I pull my hands away as if I’ve been burned.
My hands are warm where I touched him, and I stretch my fingers, resisting the urge to reach for him. This is more than attraction. This is wanting. And wanting too much is dangerous; I know what it could cost me.
Jace is peering down at me, and the smirk is gone from his face.
“Keep your hips to the front,” I mumble before heading back to the front of the class.
I don’t touch him again for the rest of the session. Whatever effect he has on me, I can’t have it disrupting my calm.
I try to focus on the other participants, but my gaze always comes back to Jace. His taut body as he moves through the poses, the way his muscles ripple when he pushes into downward-facing dog, and the smooth movement of his body as it slides through to cobra.
He’s lithe and supple and moves with unexpected grace, which makes me think, despite his posturing, that he’s done yoga or something a lot like it before.
By the time the session ends, my breathing is out of control, I’m flushed with heat, and there’s a dull ache in the pit of my belly. I’m impatient for the room to empty so I can sit quietly and regain control.
The class finishes, and Jace leaves with the rest of them. Only Savanna stays behind to help roll up the mats.
“Great first class.” She rolls up one of the spare mats at the back of the class and moves to the next one. I move around the room, collecting them from the floor.
“Thanks for coming. I knew it would be hard teaching yoga to veterans. But I think it went well.”
“I’m surprised Jace came. He told me this morning he wouldn’t do it.”
I drop the mats I’m holding into the wicker basket by the door. “You must have changed his mind.”
She gives me a knowing smile. “I don’t think he came for me. Jace spent the entire class checking out your ass.”
“My ass?” I’m bigger than what most people imagine a yoga instructor should look like. “I don’t think so.”
Heat flushes my cheeks, and I hate that the thought of him checking out my ass is pleasing to me.
She chuckles. “Whatever the reason, I’m glad he’s here. Jace needs this the most.”
“How so?”
She plunks another mat into the basket. “He hasn’t accepted the fact that he’s not going back to the military yet.”
Her words are like cold water on my heated body.
“Is there no chance of full rehabilitation?”
“No. The doctor has told him it’s unlikely he’ll ever serve again, but he refuses to accept it.”
I suddenly see Jace in a new light. The banter and cockiness hide something deeper. A refusal to accept that everything you know, everything you’ve worked for, everything you wanted is no longer within your reach. I know because I’ve been there.
“He was an Army Ranger, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah, an elite warrior, kicking his heels here. No wonder he’s uptight.”
He’s still trying to control everything, and if there’s one thing I learned how to do, it’s giving up control and accept what life deals you. Jace needs a crash course in letting go.
“There’s a meditation center in the mountains. They’ve got a retreat coming up. It could really help him.”
Savanna snorts. “Good luck getting Jace to agree to something like that. It was hard enough getting him here.”
We walk together back to the main center where Savanna’s treatment rooms are. But my mind’s on Jace. He’s cocky and arrogant, and also funny and muscular, and makes my body hum in a way I’ve never felt before, in a way I can’t control. My instinct is to avoid him, but that’s not what I came to Jake’s Retreat for. I came to help those who need it, and Jace needs it.
