Lotus House is alive with energy when I enter, my baby sis, Gracie, hot on my heels. She’s wearing a bright smile and the new yoga outfit I bought her to celebrate her first day.

“Hey, Nick!” Dara waves from the front desk where she’s helping a blonde customer sign up for classes. Luna, the owner’s daughter, is behind her, filing something away in the cabinets.

“Ladies, bringing in my baby girl Gracie to teach her first Vin Flow class. You pumped, Grace?” I ask, knocking her shoulder playfully.

“So pumped!” She squeals and does a little touchdown jig.

Dara smiles huge. “Girl, you know you got this. I’ve taken your substitute classes. Just remember, when you lose your place, breathe through it and go into tree, warrior, or child’s pose, depending on if you have them standing or on the mat.”

Grace leans into the counter, bumping the petite blonde next to her. “Oh, sorry.”

The blonde looks up, but all I can see is her profile. And what a damn fine profile it is. Classic, proud chin, a small, straight nose, and bee-sting-reddened lips. Her skin is so pale I can see the light-blue veins running just under the surface of her long, swan-like neck. Her blonde hair is a golden platinum that’s bundled up on top of her head, making her look more like a ballerina than a yoga student.

She mumbles something and then tips her head down, just as I round over to Gracie’s side so I can see her more clearly. Long, black, fanned eyelashes meet the top of her cheeks as she focuses on the initial new client paperwork in front of her.

Smoothly, or not so smoothly, I encircle Gracie’s bicep and ease her around behind my body and to the other side so I can be next to the willowy creature who’s yet to look up. Something about her is calling to me, forcing my hand as I touch her shoulder.

Her gaze flashes up, eyes a foamy, see-through gray, like a cloudy white quartz. With a mere glance, I’m lost. Gone.

Sorrow. Sadness. Pain. All those emotions flash behind her gaze before she licks her lips and looks back down. She drops the pen, her hand shaking when she picks it back up.

A barrage of images parades across my vision like a mini-movie. Looking at her eyes over dinner. Watching those eyes twinkle as I make her laugh. Staring into them, lust-filled with desire, as I press into her naked body. Sharing past sadness and helping her find peace while holding her in my arms. Her tears falling as she bares her soul.

For the first time ever, I’ve looked into a woman’s eyes and seen my future, and it centers entirely around me being the man for her.

I stand there like a numbskull while she finishes her paperwork and enters the main entrance with her new lotus-shaped entry card.

“Fuck, did that just happen?” I whisper under my breath and press the palm of my hand against my forehead.

Dara places her hand over my fisted one on the counter. My entire body is strung tighter than a drum, and I have no idea why. “Loosen up. She’s taking your class in fifteen minutes.” She chuckles.

I turn my head and focus on my friend. She’s an exotic, stunning woman. Her brown skin and ocean-blue eyes are startlingly unusual and nothing like those of the delicate blonde I just blanked out on after a single gaze.

“Hmmm, I’m guessing that rule you’ve got about not dating clients…” she hedges.

“Out the fucking window,” I growl, staring at the closed doors, wishing I could see through them to catch one more glimpse of her.

Dara laughs hard, followed by Luna, who snickers and wiggles around doing a little dance. Christ, these women are as bad as my own sisters. Speaking of which, I do a three-sixty and realize that Gracie is gone. “Where’s my sister?”

“Cool your jets, man. She’s setting up for her first class,” Dara offers.

I hunch over and shake my head, trying to clear it of the woman I’ve just seen. “I meant to take her to her class.” My big brotherly duty is feeling neglected as I stand stupidly, my feet stuck to the floor.

“Oh, how sweet. Like she’s in kindergarten and she needs her big brother to walk her in and protect her from the big bad yogis.” Luna jabs me in the chest with a pointy finger.

“Ouch!” I rub at the spot and realize what she’s said is the truth. Gracie doesn’t need her big brother hovering. “Just wanted to make her feel supported. I’m proud of her.”

Luna nods. “Then show her that by proving you know she can handle herself. No helicopter brothering at Lotus House. Got it?” Her words are firm and brook no argument. I swear, if I had a dime for every time I was bossed around by a beautiful woman, I’d be rich as hell.

I toss my towel over my shoulder. “Fine. You sure the blonde is taking my class?”

Dara nods. “Yep. I offered Gracie’s Vin Flow, but she chose Introduction to Aerial Yoga.”

“Did you warn her that it’s a lot of hanging from silks above a mat?”

Dara grins. “Yep. She said something like, ‘it sounds dangerous’ and promptly signed right up.”

“Huh. Maybe a risk-taker. I like it.” Definitely wouldn’t have assumed that from her hunched shoulders and lack of eye contact. If anything, she seems extremely shy and introverted. Guess I’ll have to figure her out.

“What’s her name?” I ask Dara.

“Dara…” Luna warns in that motherly manner from over her shoulder.

“Seriously, Luna. I know you’re vying for boss lady when the moms retire, but I’m just asking what the woman’s first name is, not the code to the safe.”

Luna purses her lips as her red bangs fall over her forehead. “Maybe she wants her name to be private?” She blinks innocently.

“Give me her freakin’ name, or payback is a…”

She waves her hands as if she’s ringing off bad juju. “Okay, okay. Her name is Honor, but that’s all I’m giving you. The rest you can find out the old-fashioned way. By asking her!” She looks down her nose at me.

“Honor.” I let the name ping around in my head as I wave over my shoulder and head into the hallway leading to my assigned room. Good grief, if that isn’t the perfect freakin’ name for an angel like her.

---

The room is quiet as I walk through the lines of dangling, royal blue silks. Several regulars are in attendance, even though they should be taking the intermediate class. I make a mental note to have a chat with a couple of them, give a gentle nudge toward moving up in their study. I find a lot of yoga patrons are comfortable in a certain class or need that small vote of confidence from their teacher in order to take the next steps. It’s my job to see their progress and push them out of their comfort zone and into new possibilities.

I stop at my personal yoga hammock at the front of the class. It’s a brilliant green so the students can easily see my movements through the silks as they attempt to mimic with their own placements. My yoga mat is leaning against the mirrored wall, and I grab for it and spread it out with a quick snap. Across the room, one set of shoulders jumps at the noise. I zero right in on her as she scrambles to place a mat on the floor under the silks above her. Though, she’s way too far away for my liking, having picked the last spot farthest from the teacher. That will never do.

First, I choose a chill jazz playlist. Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” is the first song on the track. I feel the need for a bit of soul for this session. The easy music pipes through the room; the telltale violin strings wisp through the air, Lou’s throaty timbre setting the mood. I kick off my shoes and socks before removing my tank. I don’t always teach class bare-chested. Often, I wear a simple, black, ribbed tank and my standard black, knee-length, fitted shorts. Today, though, I aim to get one doe-eyed blonde’s attention if it’s the last thing I do. A smart man uses all that’s in his arsenal, and when I pulled off my tank, a couple of girls in the corner giggled. Mission accomplished. Now it’s time to see if I can catch Honor’s eyes the same way she’s caught mine.

I walk over to where she is fighting with the silks, trying to figure out how to mimic what the woman in front of her is doing. Only she’s never taken a class, so she doesn’t realize that the woman in front of her comes every week at the same time. She’s one of the members I need to nudge into the next level. While that client practices inversion, Honor places her hands on her hips and scowls at the offending straps.

“What did these silks ever do to you?” I chuckle and hold out my hand. “I’m Nicholas Salerno, the teacher of this class, but you can call me Nick.”

She glances at my hand as if it frightens her. Interesting. I nudge my hand closer. “Nick. And you are?”

Honor straightens her shoulders and clasps my hand. The second our hands touch, a sizzle of electricity zaps through the center of our palms. She tries to let go, and I squeeze harder. Her doe eyes snap to mine searchingly. “Honor Carmichael. I’m just Honor.”

She tugs her hand away from mine and clasps it with her other one, ringing them together. I’d bet every last dollar in my bank account she felt the current of electricity between us at the single handshake. I can only imagine what it would be like body-to-body. A shiver rushes down my spine at the thought of embracing her. Holding her close. Kissing her.

I close my eyes and take a slow breath in and let it out. When I open them again, her eyes are on my bare chest. She swallows and lets her mouth fall open in a tiny gasp, one I feel all the way to my toes. The hair on my arms stands at attention as I pick up the mat between us and drag it up to the front where I can see her at all times.

“Um, excuse me, Mr. Salerno. Uh, Nick.” Her voice is small and hesitant. “I don’t want to be in the front. I don’t know what I’m doing.” She follows behind me, tugging the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands. She’s wearing a pair of skin-tight, black yoga pants I cannot wait to see the back of, but from the front, her curves are slight but still kicking. Not gonna lie; I love a petite little thing I can toss over my shoulder like a caveman and take straight to bed. Honor isn’t petite in height, but there’s not a lot of meat on her. Nothing my mama couldn’t fix with a few Sundays of her home-cooked meals.

Shit, Nick. Slow your roll. You’re ready to bring her home to Mama, and you haven’t even kissed the woman or taken her on a date yet. I let out a breath of air and cross my arms over my chest. Her gaze follows the movement. She licks her lips and bites down on the bottom one. Christ, what I wouldn’t give to bite her. Anywhere. Hell, everywhere.

“Honor, that’s exactly why you need to be up front. You’re brand new. I need to be able to instruct you directly and know that you are safe. Aerial yoga is a bit riskier with inversions and body placement. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt. You being front and center means I can keep my eyes on you.” All over you, I want to add but don’t. Wouldn’t want to scare her off.

Her head falls forward. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she grumbles under her breath.

“Excuse me?” I grin, having heard every word.

“Uh, I’m okay. Thanks, Nick. I’ll follow along.”

“Is this your first time taking yoga?” I ask her, wanting to hear the breathy, sultry timbre of her voice.

Except she doesn’t speak. She nods and looks down.

“Eyes up here, bunny,” I say low enough so she’s the only person who hears me.

Her gaze shoots up, but instead of uncertainty, I again see pain.

She gasps and frowns. “What did you call me?”

“Bunny?” I jerk my head back, just realizing what I’d said.

“Yes. Why did you call me that?” Her voice is needle thin and just as sharp.

I place both of my hands on my hips and bend a little closer—not too close. I might scare her away, because I’m getting the vibe this woman is seriously skittish. Still, I lean in enough that we have a bit more privacy.

“Honor, you’re acting like a scared little rabbit. Bunny fits.”

“Please don’t call me that.” She speaks softly, looking at her feet.

“Fair enough. Now, I have to start class, but I’d like to talk to you more, after. Clear the air.” Without waiting for her answer, because she very well may have reached her quota of words for one conversation, I step back and up to my mat.

“Everyone have a seat, sit bones flat to the mat in lotus position, only this time, let’s place the feet together so that we’re creating a circle of energy within our own body. Hands to heart center, close your eyes and set your intention for today’s practice. What do you want to get out of it? What do you want to let go of? Breathe into that intention and exhale…letting go of everything that does not serve you.”

I take the class through a series of floor routines to loosen up their spines and joints before having them stand and bring the largest silk loop behind them.

“Now, once you’ve got the silk settled along your back comfortably, I want you to bring your feet out in front of you and ease back against the silks. When you find your sweet spot, bring your feet out another foot forward and point the toes. Arch back and lift your arms over your head, allowing the silk to help you go farther into your stretch. Breathe in and exhale.”

Once the class is in position, I pop out of my hammock and go straight to Honor. She’s finally removed her oversized hoodie and is situating the silk along her lower spine. The pale-pink, ribbed tank she’s wearing stretches across her breasts enticingly. Being a tried and true boob man, I am pleasantly surprised to see she’s got a hefty rack, much larger than I expected on her slight frame. My hands are large, and her breasts will spill over them quite nicely. I groan, reminding myself to tamp down the images of squeezing her tits before my dick catches up with my brain and gives the class a show they won’t soon forget. As it is, I’ve had to readjust my semi several times in reaction to her beauty.

“Here, let me help you.” I wrap one hand around the silk above her body and grind my teeth as her fresh flowers scent reaches my nose. I bite down, unable to curb the urge to suck in one more long breath. The smell of wildflowers and tall grass surrounds me, taking me to a place of calm and peace unlike any other. Being near her soothes the chaos within my being. Every woman I’ve met before her does the opposite. Strokes the discord, when that’s the last thing I need. As an Aries alpha male, my element being fire, I don’t need a woman to goad me. Quite the opposite.

Honor’s fingers turn white as they tighten around the silks above her. I grab the smooth, stretchy fabric behind her and expand it so it covers half of her lower back and a bit of her fine, heart-shaped ass. Once she’s situated more securely, I place my hands on her shoulders and help her ease back until her body is diagonal to the floor.

“Now, point your toes and lean into it.”

“But I’m scared.” Her voice is but a whisper, and it moves me into action.

Protect.

Care.

Shelter.

These are the urges that slam over me. I can tell in the tremble of her fingertips, the firmness of her jaw, and the determination in her eyes, she hasn’t had a man be those things for her in a long time. That’s about to change.

“I’ve got you. Trust me.”

She nods, firms her jaw, and lifts her arms up over her head. I steady my hands at her elbows and help her move back into the position. My eye catches the swirls running down her inner arms. As she stretches, I focus on the skin. After a couple seconds of inspection, I realize it’s henna weaving in intricate swirls, petals, and dots up both of her arms. The designs are beautiful and seem to start at the crease of her elbow and feather out in both directions. Definitely not what I’d expect to see on the timid woman, but seeing them makes me eager to unfold the layers beneath her shy veneer and find out more.

I shift toward her ear. “Really good, Honor. You’re doing perfectly. Hold the position for about thirty seconds. I’m going to move the rest of the class into the next position. You can catch up easy enough. Okay?”

“’K,” she says but focuses on the ceiling. Her body laid out and stretched has me envisioning her form splayed out across my king-size bed. Once more, I clench my teeth and block out the stunning beauty.

Clearing my throat, I step toward my silks and get settled against them. “Now class, grip the silks above your head and sway from side to side. Let them slide under your arms and reposition yourself into a wide-legged squat, otherwise known as Goddess pose, or Utkata Konasana in Sanskrit.”

Bad idea. Such a bad idea.

Directly in front of me, my frightened, wide-eyed dove spreads her long, lean legs out. She maneuvers the silks perfectly under her arms, keeping a hold above her head before she squats down, leveling her pelvis with her thighs. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I clench my jaw so hard I could break glass with my teeth. I can feel my nostrils flare at the magnificence in front of me. I have never, in all my years teaching yoga or otherwise, seen a woman so beautiful. The track lighting above shines down over her white hair, creating a halo. She’s a true angel among us, and right then and there, I mentally promise myself and the universe that this woman will know her beauty, and in the end…it will be mine. All mine for the taking.

My voice is thick and raw when I address the class. “Now stretch out the left leg and lunge until you feel that sweet pull at the hamstring and groin, but don’t go to the point where it hurts. It should hurt good, not be painful. We do not want anyone injuring themselves. I want you all to come back. Help me pay my bills.” I crack the joke, and several of the students laugh.

Not my dove, though. She’s focused a hundred percent on her position. Absolutely stunning. I could take a picture of her right now, and it could easily appear in a yoga journal with a caption highlighting aerial yoga. Men and women alike would flock to my class if they saw her light as I see it now.

Honor opens her eyes, and her lips puff open. What I wouldn’t give to be standing directly in front of her. She’d be in the perfect position for me to take her plush mouth. It would be so easy to fold my shorts down, my dick hot and heavy in my hand, and touch her lips with just the tip. They’d be velvet soft but not nearly enough. I’d tap the side of her cheek with my fingertips, requesting entrance…

I shake my head, shoving the debauched thoughts aside. This innocent woman in front of me makes me want to do tawdry, dirty things to her, clean her back up, and start all over again. Christ, I’m in trouble with this one.

“The other side.” I stretch out my left leg and repeat the first pose. “After you’ve gotten your groove, ease from side to side several times, then go back to center and allow your body to hang, giving the spine and hamstrings a nice, long stretch. And don’t forget your breathing. Inhale fully and exhale completely.”

For a few minutes, the class follows along with me, moving from side to side, finishing with the last pose.

“Go into a closed-leg squat, as if you’re about to sit in a chair, then swing forward and move into airplane pose, which is a variation of Warrior Three. It’s a newer pose recently added to the assemblage of yoga asanas also known as Dekasana. Allow your body to be supported by the silks under your arms as you open the heart and throat chakra, lifting your chin to the sky.”

Honor shifts into the position perfectly, but once again, I’m reminded of the fatal error of putting her directly in front of me. As she stretches her body forward and lifts her pale, pretty neck to the sky, her large breasts press up and out, taunting me with their lusciousness. The view zips along my conscious mind, grinding against the part of me that’s all carnal, filthy male. My cock reacts and rises to the occasion, wanting to spear between those large globes as she licks the fat head of my dick.

Christ on a cross, I’m fucked.

Moving a bit faster than I normally would, mostly because I don’t want to embarrass myself by letting a class full of yogis see me fighting off an erection, I issue the next command. “Slowly straighten your legs, maneuver the silks to the hinge at your hips, and bring your hands to the floor to allow your feet to ease off the ground. It will seem as though you are in a variation of downward facing dog but with your feet just a foot or two off the ground. Keep your face level with your arms.”

Please, God, keep their faces level with their arms.

I let go of the silks and look at the other patrons, needing to separate myself from the goddess in front of me. For the first time, I notice a familiar, bulky form in the back corner. I walk over to my buddy’s side.

“Hey, man. Didn’t see you there.”

Clayton Hart lifts his head and grins. “I’m sure you didn’t since your eyes have been on nothing but the slender blonde with the killer rack in the front row.”

My mouth tightens on instinct, hearing Clayton’s appraisal of Honor. I narrow my gaze. “Shouldn’t you be at home with your gorgeous, pregnant wife and daughter?”

Clayton chuckles and stands. I glance around the rest of the class and watch them ease into their final squat.

“Needed a good stretch. Took on an NFL client today. Worked him and myself hard on the weights. My muscles are killing me. Your class helps put me back together.” He grins before lifting his chin toward the front of the class. “What’s the deal with the blonde? You haven’t stopped looking at her.”

I run my hand through my slicked-back hair and rub the back of my neck. “Not sure yet. Doin’ a number on me, though.”

Clayton frowns. “You don’t usually tend to be sweet on clientele. You thinkin’ about breaking your own rules?” Clayton pushes back into another stretch I wouldn’t give in the introductory class. His body is jam-packed with muscles, and he could easily be a poster boy for Men’s Fitness, but he’s taken my class many times before and knows the movements and how to be safe. He’s also a fitness trainer who knows his own body and what it needs.

“Man, I don’t know. All I know is she’s a game changer. There’s something about her. I don’t know what.”

My buddy grins and lifts his body up into the silks like a professional gymnast, all flexing muscles and heavy lifting made easy. “Wish you luck with that, man. Go get her.” He winks.

I nod and head back to the front. For the rest of the class, I put them all through their paces, giving them just enough instruction to get comfortable in the silks and stretch out what the average person needs…back, neck, legs, getting out the usual stiffness a person feels when working a sedentary job or standing on their feet all day.

“Okay, last pose of the day. We’re going to go into cocoon. Stretch out your hammock, slide it under your butt and along your back. Then shimmy your body into the fabric. It will stretch along with your form. You can either put your feet to your chest or just curve up. Bring your arms inside the swing, allowing the silks to cover you completely. Find a comfortable position that suits you because you’re going to stay here for a solid five to seven minutes for Savasana.”

Each participant gets into their swing, and I give them a minute to position themselves. Usually, I’d cocoon myself as well, but today I need to offer guided meditation for them and for myself. Walking around, I avoid Honor, needing to gather a little mental space as well as physical distance. Being close to her is like being in a vortex. All I want to do is get closer, plaster my body along hers, and breathe in her essence.

“Inhale, letting in peace and serenity, exhaling any remnants of frustration or irritation from your day. Allow yourself to float in your cocoon. This position mimics being back in the womb, where everything was safe and sound. Go to your safe place. Breathe into it. Remember here that you are protected, you are perfect, and you are loved.”

Honor’s hammock jiggles wildly before her small feet pop out, and she sits up gasping for breath.

Shit. Sometimes this happens; people feel claustrophobic.

I rush over to her and curl my hands around her cheeks, tipping her chin up with my thumbs. Her eyes are wild and untamed, searching for an exit. “Breathe, Dove, in with me.” I inhale long and slow. Her fingers wrap around my neck, and I place my forehead to hers. “Out slowly.” Her fingers dig into my shoulders as she shudders out her breath. “In again…” For long moments, we breathe together until her body calms and the shivers wracking her frame abate. “You better?” I whisper, close enough she should be able to feel my breath against her lips.

“Yeah, I don’t know what happened. I just…”

“It’s okay. You probably felt a bit claustrophobic. We can work on that in future classes. We’ll start by keeping your head out of the cocoon, and work toward full coverage.”

She nods and licks her lips, letting me go. When her hands fall away, I force myself to take a step back. I hate it. Instantly, everything inside me calls to protect her. Wrap her up in my arms and never let her go.

Instead of going with my instinct, I go back to the front of the class and call out the commands to bring everyone back from their relaxation. When I’ve turned off the music and turned around to talk to my dove, she’s gone.