He positions me on the mat and I let him. There’s no use fighting as I have no idea what’s happening right now, and if wearegoing to do some yoga, no idea how to do that either.
As I already said before, running is the only thing I know that is related to sport, and that’s probably why I have good cardio but still am a little chubby, no matter what Jack and Nuri say. I do have a strangely tiny waist, but my thighs, hips, and ass betray my love for outrageously greasy food.
I’m not sure I even care, it makes sitting comfier.
“We’ll start easy. Close your legs, feet a few inches apart,” he says, standing behind me. “Good. lift your arms above your head. Back straight.” His hands surround mine pushing them so they touch each other. “Good. Now hold.”
Thatis yoga?
“What pose is that?” I ask, forcing myself not to look at the mirror in front of me. I close my eyes. Yeah, that’ll do.
“The mountain,” he says, sliding his palm along my spine, forcing my back to arch a little. “Okay, good. Lift your right leg and place your foot on your thigh.”
I frown, but try to do as he says, feeling myself instantly falling to the side.
“Careful. Wow. Don’t you have any balance?”
I groan and try again, this time feeling his hands holding me by the waist.
“Try to place your foot a little higher on your thigh. Yes, that’s it. Perfect.”
Perfect. How he almost purred it in my ear is a little indecent and I’mfeeling hot all of a sudden.
“And… hold.”
I’m definitely going to fall. I count in my head, ignoring the places whereI knowhis hands are hovering barely a few inches from my skin. The heat radiating from his body, warming my skin, is overwhelming.
“Good. That was the Tree.”
The tree.And here I am, thinking about Friday night again, and howhistree was—
Kill me.Please.
“Okay, lean forward and place your hands on the mat.”
My eyes snap open, catching him looking at me in the mirror.
“My… Hands?”
One of his brows arches.Evil. That look is definitely evil. “Don’t worry, it’s not going to be nearly as inappropriate as what these two were about to do in here,” he says, tilting his head without looking towards the workout bench.
And I remember. They are here. Thinking Nate and I are dating. And it’s all an act. So I do as he asked, trying to get over the fact that he has a clear view of my ass, lifted in the air.
“Good. Keep your feet flat on the mat.”
His fingers tighten on my hips and he pulls towards him adjusting my pose. He pushes my feet apart using his before sliding his hands up my side, holding onto my ribcage.
“Breathe or you’re going to faint.”
I exhale slowly, thinking of anything other than him, the place he’s standing or the memories that keep invading my mind.
“Perfect,” he whispers again, and his tone makes me certain that he’s not talking about the pose. He shifts and the next thing I know, he’s now standing in front of my lowered head, checking my neck and shoulders. “You’re perfect.”
I hear the faint sound of people arguing in hushed voices and a door closing shut, but I’m too overwhelmed to even check if someone came in because his hands are on me, and I can’t seem to think straight when they are. Because right now the only thing I can focus on is his voice, raspy and a little breathless, murmuring that I’m perfect. Murmuring, so that it’s just for me. For us. And not for any potential bystanders. Not for our little act.
Nate takes one step away and I straighten up, our eyes meeting brieflybefore my breath catches in my lungs.
And I run. I flee like the coward that I am, because I can’t trust myself to stay here much longer. Because I’m not sure I can look at him and pretend that I’m not attracted to him anymore.
