Breathless (Yoga in the City Book 1)

by Leigh LaValle

  I tried to keep my face passive, but inside, I was furious. And embarrassed.

  Finally, we made it to the end, to shavasana. I prayed for a moment’s silence, but a new noise started, some mix between a jackhammer and a circular saw. Small puffs of dust drifted down from the ceiling, and I half feared the machine would crash through the floor above us.

  I led a visualization through a quick, very unrestful, rest pose. Then I jumped up, fled behind the front desk, and pretended to do something important on the computer so I didn’t have to look at my students as they were leaving. I was so embarrassed. And mad. Was Jake crazy? How in the world could anyone run a business, much less a yoga business, in such a disturbance?

  After the last student left, I went upstairs to see what was going on. I scanned the workers until I found him, standing near a window, reviewing a set of plans with someone wearing a suit.

  He must have sensed the waves of anger rolling off me, because he glanced up and our eyes locked. He said something to the guy and then walked over to me.

  I was not going to notice how hot he looked. I was not going to notice how broad his chest was in his long sleeve T-shirt, or how his Carhartts did amazing things to his ass.

  “Hi,” he said with that half smile. I wanted to kiss the scar on his lip and crawl up inside his shirt.

  Focus, Hannah.

  “Come with me.” I marched down the stairs, out to the sidewalk, then back into my studio. He followed as I knew he would. I was mad enough I hadn’t put on shoes or a sweatshirt when I went to find him, and I was covered with goose bumps. Or at least I told myself it was the cold that had me shivering, not his smile or his brown eyes or the dusting of wood shavings I wanted to brush out of his hair.

  I held the door open and motioned for him to step into the studio. He was favoring his left leg. Was he in pain? There were small white lines around his mouth and his brow was furrowed. Poor guy.

  No. Not poor guy. I was mad at him. Focus, Hannah.

  The drilling/banging/death sound started, and I threw my hands out to the side. “Can you hear how loud that is?”

  He listened for a moment, his gaze focused upward as if he too feared the ceiling was going to fall in. Then he turned back to me. His gaze dipped down to my chest, then slowly lifted to my eyes. “That machine is obnoxious. But we only need it today. Tomorrow, tops.”

  I crossed my arms. My shirt wasn’t low-cut, but it was tight and my nipples were hard. “Well, it needs to stop. We can’t run a yoga studio like this.”

  He raised his brows. “You want me to just stop? Just abandon the renovation?”

  “How can you expect any business to stay open with such ear-splitting noise? Especially a yoga studio?”

  He spread his hands wide, as if to say, What can I do? “It’s a construction zone.”

  “My point exactly.”

  “Construction is loud.”

  “Class attendance has been down all week.” I planted my hands on my hips. “I can’t be the first person to complain.”

  His gaze snapped down to my chest again, then back up to my face. He took a step forward. “We’re under a tight deadline, Hannah. You need to be patient. We’ll be out of your hair soon.”

  The drilling started again. The whole building shook, and some more dust fell from the ceiling.

  I poked Jake in his chest. His thick, hard chest. “You’re supposed to take care of your tenants, not run them out of business.”

  “And you…” He took another step forward, forcing me to either hold my ground and stand belly to belly, chest to chest with him, or take a step back. I took a step back. “Could ask nicely. I have yet to hear a please.”

  Boom. Boom. Boom. My heart hammered louder than the machine upstairs. Jake was so tall and thick and gorgeous. He was inches away, and I could feel the heat coming off him. He smelled of wood shavings and some kind of man spice. The scent went right to my head.

  I’d never wanted a man as badly as I wanted him.

  I met his gaze. I was shaking. “Please stop being an ass, please. There, I said it twice.”

  He shook his head. His eyes were hot as they raked down me. “You got quite the sass for a yoga teacher.”

  I tossed my hair back over my shoulder. Except it was in a ponytail and didn’t have the desired effect. “And you have such a fine way with customer service.”

  The sound of our heavy breaths filled the small space between us.

  His jaw worked. He reached out both hands and rested them on the counter behind me. Framing me in.

  He had me trapped. I tried to muster outrage I didn’t feel. Really, my panties were getting wet.

  I took a deep breath. Not helping. God, his sexy scent… I wanted to bury my nose in his neck. Bite his shoulder. I couldn’t think. I fisted my hands to keep from reaching out and touching him.

  Fight! Fight! Fight! yelled my brain.

  Yes! Touch him! my body pleaded.

  Keep it professional, Hannah.

  “We need to find a compromise that works for both our businesses.” My voice shook. “Maybe quiet hours.”

  “That sounds like a good idea.” He growled. “But not right now.”

  “Now would be a fine time—”

  “I can’t think clearly when you’re dressed like this.”

  Something heavy and enticing flushed through me. “What?”

  “You’re just tight, everywhere.” He raked his eyes over me again. “What are you even wearing?”

  I glanced down. My nipples were poking through the thin fabric of my shirt. And I was no longer cold, not with the heat pouring off him. “Yoga clothes.”

  He didn’t say anything. His eyes were dark, hooded, and focused on my chest.

  I looked down again. My shirt said: You had me at shavasana.

  “You don’t like shavasana?” I breathed.

  “I don’t know what the fuck shavasana is.” His voice was like gravel. “I just mean—aw, fuck it.” He leaned down and kissed me.

  Soft lips, hot tongue, hard chest. I was a starved woman. I couldn’t get enough.

  He wrapped one hand around my shoulders and another around my waist. Then he hauled me up against him. The tips of my toes grazed the floor. His scruff scraped my skin, and I pressed against his steely strength and something broke inside me. More. I needed more. I wrapped my fingers around his thick biceps and bit his lower lip.

  He made a noise deep in his throat. Slid his hands down to my ass and fitted our hips together. The hard ridge of his erection pressed against the ache at my core. A moan escaped my lips, and he sank his tongue deep in my mouth.

  I opened. Taking him. Wanting all of him.

  He lifted me onto the counter. I wrapped my legs around his waist and ran my hands over his hard pecs. His heart was hammering. He shifted until his cock nestled against my pelvis and shocks of pleasure raced through me. His free hand skimmed up my belly, over my breast. He thumbed my hard nipple, and my head fell back with a gasp.

  “God, Hannah.” He dropped his head to my shoulder. “If I don’t stop, I’m going to fuck you right here, on this counter.”

  I stiffened, reality crashing back in. We were by the window, in full view of anyone passing by.

  He must have felt the shift in me, because he pulled back a few inches.

  We were both panting. His eyes were dark.

  “Go out with me,” he growled.

  What was he talking about? Go where?

  “You’re drive me crazy, Hannah. Say yes.”

  Our breaths mingled, the space between us charged and pulsing with energy.

  He filled me up, inside and out. I would forget myself. My lists. I swallowed. “I can’t.”

  He eyes narrowed. He leaned in and kissed me. A hard, claiming kiss. It left my lips stinging and begging for more.

  “One date,” he rasped against my mouth.

  Yes, please. How about right now. We can start in the back room.

  I dropped my head, not darin
g to look at him. At the promise in his eyes. I shook my head no, bit my kiss-swollen lips. Savoring his taste. I didn’t trust my voice.

  He stepped back. Cold air rushed between us.

  He ran a hand through his hair, then adjusted his pants. He lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of my wrist. “I’m not giving up.”

  Then, he was gone.

  Chapter 8

  Jake

  I spent the rest of the day smashing down walls.

  Hannah had me all worked up. I was like a wild animal. Wanting to ravage her. Frustrated that I couldn’t. Taking out my irritation on the world around me.

  Her breast had fit so perfectly in the palm of my hand. I wanted to take her shirt off. Taste her. Drive into her.

  I had to make her say yes to a date. I’d forgotten what it felt like to want something this bad.

  Later that afternoon, Brian found me tearing apart the bathroom upstairs from Bloom.

  “What’s up, boss?” I asked, kicking an old, rusted toilet. The thing seemed mortared to the floor.

  “I’ve been texting you.” He yelled over the sound of Mike Jr. bashing through ancient porcelain tiles. I’d checked the schedule earlier and there was no yoga class that afternoon, so we were going full force with the noise. The entire bathroom needed to be moved away from the large windows—we’d put offices there instead.

  “What do you need?” I asked. The Carter sketches were done, and they were awesome—beyond awesome. I had total confidence the Carters were going to love the house I’d designed for them. But Brian had a pissy look to him. Whatever his problem was, I didn’t want to deal with it.

  “The sketches. Are they done?”

  “Yup. I was going to bring them by when I’m finished here.” I stood up and brushed dust and grit off me. “I have them in my truck. I can give them to you now.”

  “I’ll look at them, but you can keep them. I want you to present them at the meeting tomorrow. They asked for you specifically, and I’d like you to remain involved.”

  “Yup. Sounds good.” Damn. I hadn’t reminded Brian about my leave of absence coming up, and it seemed he’d forgotten. At this point, it would be best if I talked to the Carters about my timeline myself, convince them I could finalize the plans and pass them off. I’d smooth over their concerns before Brian got wind of any problem in his quest for architectural world domination.

  “Do you have break coming up, Mikey?” Brian yelled to my worker.

  “Uh—”

  “Take it.”

  Mike Jr. shot me a look and quickly left.

  “I want to talk with you about the VFW fundraiser,” Brian grumbled. Ah, there it was, that thing I could see. The extra pissyness.

  “Nope.” I kicked the toilet again. The thing didn’t move.

  “They’re doing some kind of an event—a bike race or something. Signs are all over town.”

  “Good for them.”

  “I want you to give the speech.”

  “I want ten million dollars.”

  “Can’t you be serious for a moment? This shit is important.”

  “I am being serious. Do you know what I could do with ten million dollars?” I studied the toilet. I was going to have to break it apart to get it out of there.

  “Don’t be such a dick about this.”

  I turned to my cousin. Blood pumped into my muscles. “Drop it.”

  “Not until you get your head out of your ass.”

  “It’s none of your business.” I crossed the room and grabbed the sledgehammer.

  “It’s exactly my business. That article about you in the paper was excellent PR. You can’t buy this kind of shit. We’ve been getting calls and emails and hits on our Facebook page all week. People want to know about you.”

  “People? What the fuck do I care about people?”

  “You’re sitting on a goldmine of PR and doing nothing about it.” He looked at the toilet, then at the sledgehammer. “Is there water in there?”

  “Maybe. You’d better leave just in case.” It was bone dry, but he wouldn’t want to risk it.

  I pulled on my safety glasses and swung the sledgehammer back. I was done with this conversation. “See ya, Brian.”

  He walked across the room but didn’t leave. “Cody was your best friend, Jake.”

  I slammed the hammer into the toilet. Shards of porcelain flew in every direction.

  Cody.

  Fire burned my skin from the inside. I smashed the toilet again. It split apart down the middle.

  “Jesus, man. Just take a breath. Just think about it,” Brian said from the doorway.

  I turned toward him. “No.”

  He dug his hands into his hair, frustrated. “We can’t walk away from all this free advertising.”

  “It’s not exactly free. Not for me.”

  “Well, it’s not exactly brain science either. Talk to the reporter. Give the VFW speech. And maybe one more event. The phone has been ringing off the hook with invitations for you since the article came out.”

  “Damn reporter.”

  “Don’t be stupid. You need money too. You need this firm to be a success just as much as I do. Along with the Carter Project—you could be in major magazines.”

  I threw the sledgehammer back into the corner. “I’m no poster boy, Brian.”

  “You certainly look like one.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “That you’re too pretty for such a bad attitude.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck you too.” He was quiet a moment. He just looked at me, almost like he was sad. “Do it for you, man. Do it for Cody’s family.”

  Pins and needles pricked me from the inside out.

  “Just think about it,” Brian grumbled and had the good sense to leave.

  I smashed the bathroom to pieces.

  Sunset that evening found me completing a Class 4 scramble with no belay. I had no ropes, no partner—just my hands and the rock and the endless expanse below me. It was nearly dark before I noticed night was closing in. I knew I should pull off to the side and follow the ridge back down. I knew I was taking unnecessary risks, staying out there with no safety, no partner, nighttime fast approaching. But I didn’t turn around. My knee ached like the devil, my forearms burned, my fingertips were numb, but I pushed harder. Time and darkness were challenges that got me amped up.

  That small zing I’d been looking for all afternoon, that coy mistress of life, finally showed her face. She breathed across my neck with the wind, making my hairs lift. Electricity ran through my veins.

  Finally.

  I was alive.

  I was breathing, heart pounding, blood rushing, sweating and awake and alive.

  A hawk flew out from the rocks to my right. I could feel him soaring in the cool night air, hunting for his dinner. I could feel his wings, his freedom. His hunger. My heart lifted and, for that moment, I was free.

  Chapter 9

  Hannah

  Jake. Jake. Jake.

  He was all I could think about.

  Jake on the trail, carrying me.

  Jake outside of Bloom, wearing his sexy builder-boy clothes and barking orders.

  Jake kissing me.

  Jake undressing me.

  Jake on top of me, beneath me, behind me.

  I showed up late to our weekly Friday meeting, exhausted and irritable. The other girls brought their kale chips and beet juice and I hid my Mountain Dew like my life depended on it. They could not know what a junk food addict I was.

  Talk immediately shifted to Jake. Well, the renovation and the noise it was causing, to be precise. But all I heard was Jake, Jake, Jake.

  “We need to find a way to coexist with Jake and the construction crew,” Crystal said. I wanted to roll my eyes, she sounded so new-agey. “There must be a way we can both fulfill our needs.”

  Preach, sister. I had lots of needs for Jake to fulfill.

  Jennifer nodded vigorously. “Something n
eeds to be done. The noise has become a real issue. Has anyone talked to Jake?”

  “I did yesterday.” Talk. Touch. Kiss. “I told him he was being way too loud.”

  “How did that go over?” Annette asked.

  I shrugged. “Frustrating.”

  The understatement of the century.

  I could still feel his hands on me. Still taste him on my lips. My skin crawled with unfulfilled desire.

  “I told him the studio needs quiet hours. I thought we could prioritize our most popular classes.”

  “That’s a good idea. What did he say?”

  “Ah.” My face grew hot. “He said he couldn’t talk about it right then.”

  Three pairs of eyes studied me. No one said anything for a moment.

  “Why not?” Crystal finally asked.

  “He was distracted.”

  “I bet he was,” Annette muttered under her breath.

  The other girls laughed. So nice they found humor in my suffering.

  “I can prepare a financial graph of class attendance over the last month, broken down by times,” Jennifer offered. “And a profit and loss statement detailing the construction noise.”

  Annette turned to her. “How do you know how to do all that stuff?”

  Jennifer shrugged. “It’s easy.”

  “Not really.”

  “Hannah, you need to be the one who goes to talk to Jake.” Jennifer waved her liquefied grass at me. “You should go to his office.”

  I almost spit out my Mountain Dew. “What? No.”

  “Why not? You already started the conversation with him. And he seems to like you.”

  “Oh, he definitely likes Hannah,” Crystal purred.

  “I thought I was picking up a vibe.” Annette made a kissy face.

  Crystal wagged her eyebrows at me. I scowled. Here went nothing. “Jake is my mountain man.”

  Jennifer jumped up. “Oh my God. From when you hurt your ankle?”

  “No freaking way.” Annette shook her head slowly.

  Crystal nodded. “It’s karma.”