“Thank you, ladies. I’ll be sure to follow up.”
“I can’t wait.” Crystal tipped her head to the side and blinked amusingly.
I turned slowly and made my way out of the office and toward my room. An uneasy feeling followed me. What were those two plotting?
For a few minutes, I started yoga breathing, attempting to center my mind and overactive thoughts. I had to teach a class in the next twenty minutes, and I’d planned on grabbing my schedule and reviewing it over a cup of coffee at the bakery. Now, I didn’t have time.
Time. The bane of my existence. And now I had even less of it since I had to go babysit Atlas Powers. Damn sexy yogi. Why couldn’t he be a dog-faced man? I hadn’t planned on sitting through any of his classes, mostly because keeping my eyes off his body was like asking an art student not to look at a Van Gogh or Picasso. A person needed to inspect the classics in order to know where it all began. And, oh goodness gracious, Atlas’s body was something to behold. Now I’d have to stare at it through a ninety-minute class. Maybe I could skip out of it early?
I groaned and sat down on the riser where I’d set myself up to teach today’s class. No, Jewel and Crystal were counting on me. They’d always been kind to me, and they’d been amazing bosses. The last thing I wanted was for them to think I was an ingrate. I could take the sexy man’s class, tell them how it went, and move on with my life. Easy. No problem.
ATLAS
I felt her presence before I saw her. Somehow, the candlelit room brightened just a hair, as if the flickering light followed her essence through the rustle of air as she moved. Her eyes didn’t meet mine when she laid out a mat in the front right corner of the classroom. A few other patrons near her set up their mats and continued to the back of the room. I’d closed the thick curtains over the window that separated the hallway and the class that allowed patrons to view the class from the hall. Usually, the owners wanted the curtains open unless it was a private session or one of Dash’s Tantric couples’ workshops. However, for today’s class, privacy was of the utmost importance.
The entire room came alive with new clients, most of them women. I had to admit, going with Dash to walk the Berkeley campus and promote the class in person worked like a charm. We’d secured so many phone numbers through winks and smiles, I felt like I was carrying around a pocketful of confetti when the night was over, and I tossed them all into the circular waste bin. Amber, Dash’s wife, had frowned when he told her about our day. Then she offered to take the class in support of her husband’s friend.
At her suggestion, I’d laughed my ass off. I’d known Dash Alexander since high school, and the only time he’d lost his cool was over Amber. The woman had twisted him up with her innocence and intelligence. This time was much like when Amber had told him she was a virgin about six months ago. They were only dating then. Courting her had been the only time I’d seen him react like a lovesick fool. This time was different. He was worse. Positively rife with anger at the mere thought of his wife disrobing in front of a class full of people. In the end, he’d straight out forbidden her from taking my class.
I tried to act affronted, but I got it. Before him, his wife had been untouched. He owned her body, mind, and soul. Men like me could only dream of being so lucky. But with my daytime schedule and trying to make the music thing work at night, I barely had time for a quick roll in the hay with a willing groupie I’d met at the local bar, let alone a lifelong commitment. Amber, though, she’d been pissed. So upset, in fact, I had to leave in order for him to grovel in peace.
Walking around the class, I made sure that everything was set up just so. I’d met most of the clients outside so that they could sign the required forms, so the yoga center would not be liable for anything the client might deem inappropriate. From what I understood, none of the paperwork would hold up in court, but it helped to have something to deter legal action. Not that I expected anything to happen. At first everyone would look down, up at the ceiling, shyly glance at one another or only at themselves, and most often, they avoided all eye contact. Then they’d get into the poses, focus their attention within, and it would just be a regular yoga class.
Unfortunately for me, there was a divine cinnamon-colored, pint-sized goddess who currently held all my focus. I couldn’t wait to drop the bomb on her. I wondered how long it would take her to roll up her mat and walk out of the class. That sass was hard to contain. My guess? Two point five seconds. Testing the theory was going to be a blast.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed people were starting to disrobe. I checked the clock, went over to the door, made sure there weren’t any stragglers chatting outside who needed to get in, and then shut and locked the door. Mila squinted and tilted her head, her gaze revealed the disapproval of the action.
I walked over to her and was about to welcome her when her scathing tone stopped me short.
“What are you doing locking the door? That’s against the rules.”
“Not when it locks from the inside. Any patron can easily unlock it and leave, not to mention the push doors for the fire exits. I don’t want anyone else coming in mid-class. It would be inappropriate and incredibly disruptive.”
Her head jerked back. “How so? You get paid for any additional latecomers.”
I smiled. “You’ll see.”
Mila’s caramel-colored eyes blazed an intense gold. Her high, wide cheekbones filled with a rosy hue. I’d have very much liked to feel those silky cheeks against my fingertips.
Wow. Irritation looked damn fine on her.
“Class, we’re about to begin. You know what to do,” I said loud enough for the room to hear.
She tapped her foot and squinted. “Is that how you start a class? You really should welcome them, introduce yourself.”
Know-it-all.
I chuckled behind my hand. Boy, was she going to eat crow. “Oh, I have. Outside when I was having them sign their waivers.”
Her mouth opened and her eyes widened. “Waiver for what?”
“So we don’t get sued for sexual harassment, public indecency, or any of the other mumbo jumbo societal norms might consider inappropriate.”
She pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, I’m not following.”
I grinned, hooked my fingers into my loose tank top, and pulled it over my head.
Mila gasped and licked her lips when my chest came into full view. Oh yeah. The sexual tension between us was ripe, and I wanted so badly to bite into her, but the timing had to be just right.
“Mila, take off your clothes.” My voice was thick with a desire I couldn’t hide. Not from her. Not with her standing in front of me looking like God’s gift to mankind.
“Excuse me.” Her own tone was low and sultry.
“Look around.” I held out my arms as if I was displaying a Thanksgiving feast, not a class full of yogis.
“Oh my God.” Her hand went over her mouth as her eyes flicked from person to person. “What are you teaching?”
I looked into her brown eyes, grinned, and then pushed down my yoga pants and boxer briefs in one shove.
Her eyes didn’t start at my feet and take me in slowly. No, her gaze went straight for the gusto landing right on my cock. I could almost feel the heat of her desire searing through me.
The gasp that came from her pretty mouth that time sounded more like a choked gurgle.
“Naked yoga.”
If I could have, I would have paid to have someone capture the look on her face when I bared my body to the sexy wildcat for the first time. Her chest rose and fell far faster than was necessary for a person just standing there not moving a muscle. Her pupils were dilated, and her erect nipples poked through her flimsy sports bra. I had to think of my grandmother and the disgusting bathroom at the club I played to prevent an erection.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I cocked an eyebrow, lifted both hands to my head, and ran my fingers through my hair so that my naked body was on full display.
Her eyes blatantly raked my form from head toe.
“Jesus,” she whispered and bit into her full bottom lip.
I grinned, took a calming breath, and opened my eyes.
“Yeah, that’s what I think every day when I see you, and you’re not even naked.”
“Atlas…” she warned and glanced around.
The room was quiet except for the lilting, soothing sound of Enya I had playing softly in the background.
“Class, go ahead and start by sitting with your bum flat against the mat, legs crossed in front of you in lotus position. Press your hands, palms together, at your heart, close your eyes, and think about what you want to let go of today. You’ve already gotten rid of the physical parameters you entered with; now, let’s work on the mental ones.”
“I don’t…I don’t kn-know what to say,” Mila stuttered, her voice filled with trepidation as much as curiosity.
I pressed my hands together in front of my chest. “There’s nothing to say. Either remove all your clothes and get into lotus position or leave. Your indecision is disrupting my class.”
A silent war of wills seemed to be fought in the few seconds that passed as I stood in front of her, naked as the day I was born, waiting for her decision.
Without preamble or a single uttered word, she reached her arms behind her back, and arched her chest delectably. Then she crossed her arms in front of her, grabbed the bottom edge of her sports bra, and lifted it above her head in one swoop. A pair of the most succulent, perky, small breasts came into view. My dick stirred from its sleepy place, wanting to rise up and greet the day.
Vomit on the floor mixed with torn pieces of pissed-on toilet paper.
Filmy mirrors.
Nasty phrases and women’s phone numbers written on tile walls.
I rushed to think of anything disgusting so that I wouldn’t embarrass myself.
Mila’s loose brown curls fell back away from the front of her face and her eyes stayed on mine. Then she looped her fingers into her skintight yoga pants and pushed them down. Interestingly enough, this particular female yogi didn’t wear panties. I’d have to ask Dash about it. He’d had more experience with yogis than I had. Though in that moment, when I took in all that was Mila Mercado’s naked body, I swore on all things holy that this woman would be mine. I wanted to sample each golden-brown nipple until she begged for more. I wanted to taste the slickness between her thighs as if she was the finest delicacy.
I swallowed and stared. Just stared at her body.
“You gonna teach class or look at me naked all night?” Her eyebrow twitched, and her lips puckered.
A challenge. That was it. This woman absolutely had the power to break me. Sexy as hell, this fun-sized yogi could end me.
“Oh wildcat, I’d happily spend all night looking at your naked body. It’s like fine art. You can never get enough. You have to see it over and over to appreciate all the little nuances. Which I intend to do. Another time. But I have a class to teach.” I grinned and clapped my hands together signaling to the class that we were about to start.
I turned around, leaving Mila and her insanely gorgeous body in favor of starting class. The platform the yoga teachers used had track lighting shining directly on the riser, and there I stood in front of a class full of twenty-five naked people, and I only cared about one person’s opinion of what she saw.
Much to my dismay, as I glanced around the room at the clients sitting in lotus pose, most of the bodies were young and in shape. Soon I’d get women and men of all shapes and sizes participating, and the experience would be even more profound. I preferred a more diverse audience in this class.
Mila hurriedly sat in position and closed her eyes.
“Now place your arms above your head and bring your palms together.” I put myself into position and waited for the class to follow. Everywhere I looked, there were naked bodies. Large breasts, medium sized, small, flat male breasts, so many different nipple shapes it all became almost a game of connect the dots. No two alike.
When I was teaching a naked yoga class, my imagination turned all of their bodies into clay statues. They were no longer vulnerable naked forms; they were structures with which to create beautiful shapes through the art and practice of yoga.
“Breathe in and, on the exhale, bring the arms down and let it go. We’re going to cross the knees over one another, lining them up. Take your arms and cross the elbows.” Everyone followed suit, but I had trouble not focusing on the one woman who did not want the attention. “That’s it,” I said when everyone caught up. “This is cow face pose. Focus on the feeling between your shoulder blades, your hips, and breathe…”
I took them through sixty minutes of a beginning to intermediate class. Eventually, I wanted to offer naked yoga and have it be specific to the type of yoga, such as Vinyasa Flow, hatha, perhaps even some Yin yoga.
When I shifted the class to the side of the mat and had everyone stand in a wide legged downward facing dog pose, I instantly felt my mistake sizzle through my veins. Mila’s ass came into perfect view. There was no one standing close enough behind her to block it. Jesus Christ, that ass. I tightened my hands into fists, the act preventing me from doing something stupid, like storming over to her, placing my palms on those succulent globes and squeezing to my heart’s content.
Then she bent over. I groaned as her pink pussy became visible. As she flipped her upper body over at the waist, her small, perky breasts bounced and her head hung between her legs. She was naturally flexible and an advanced yogi. I wasn’t surprised when she rested the crown of her head on the ground. She reached out both arms and grabbed her ankles. Her entire body was folded in half and open. So open. I could easily stand right behind her and impale her where she stood. And it would feel so good. I’d hold her hips and pound into her so that she had no way of escape, could feel every deep thrust intensely, stuck on my cock, only able to take what I gave. Over and over I’d bang her until she convulsed in orgasm. Her pussy milking me for everything I had to give.
That did it. My dick rose to attention, hard and proud. Mila’s eyes opened and caught sight of my very big problem. She licked her lips and pressed against her thighs, lifting up her head, chest and then the rest of her body. When she stood, she looked over her shoulder coyly, perfect ass on display. My heart sped up, my dick hardened painfully as I glanced around to make sure no others eyes were on me. Just for her, I fisted my cock and stroked it once, so she could see exactly what she did to me. To my extreme surprise, she smirked, faced the wall, and moved back into position, ass in the air, pussy open and ready for the next instruction.
Truth be told, based on her response, I knew I had my work cut out for me. This woman was trouble. Beyond trouble. She was a damn lit stick of dynamite.
Chapter Three
Individuals who relate most with the solar plexus chakra tend to be worldly, extremely intelligent, possibly speak many languages, and take very good care of their bodies. They are interested in securing many material possessions and seek fame and fortune as a measure of their success. Prestige and power are driving forces in these individuals.
MILA
Atlas Powers was handsome. Fine as fuck and hung like a horse. His body was a tight mesh of sculpted muscles. The indentions of his abdominals were so cut I was certain I’d feel them like Braille under a blind person’s fingers when dragging my tongue over them. And that’s all I could think about.
My lips dragging over his hard muscles.
My tongue tasting wave after wave of his abdominal wall.
When he reached his hands behind his head and displayed his body like the Viking warrior I imagined him to be in that moment, with the mop of curls falling into his eyes, the rugged angle of his jaw dotted with a couple of days’ growth of beard, I lost the ability to breathe. He seriously had no right to look that damn good.
A hot burst of arousal arrowed to my core, making my sex tender and needy. An ache built within my body. My nostrils flare
d at the musky male scent taunting me, hooking me with gossamer tendrils of male pheromones. Atlas watched me as I looked my fill, not even trying to hide the smug smile. The bastard knew how good he looked and had no problem flaunting it.
I had to give it to him. When he told me to remove my clothes before class started, I almost swallowed my tongue. The words “clothes” and “naked” had banged around in my head like a pinball machine until finally the ball sank home along with the meaning behind his lusty choices in syntax. He’d meant to shock and stupefy me with his request, and he’d won. That round. Until, of course, I’d lifted my arms over my head and removed my sports bra.
When the tables were turned on him, Atlas caved, and he caved for all to see. His eyes seemed to run up and down my body as if he was memorizing every inch of my small breasts when they bounced free of the Lycra confinement. The way he licked his lips indicated that he was not bothered by the small handful—rather, that if I was willing, he’d be grabbing those handfuls with fervor. Then I figuratively punched him right in the gut when, instead of cutting and running, I’d pushed my yoga pants down and smirked back. Smug son-of-a-gun.
My heart pounded a symphony in my chest waiting for him to respond further, wanting to see that fat cock between his thighs raise up to make my acquaintance. Only that’s not what happened. No, he turned on a heel and started class. I tried to take his abruptness as a compliment, that he was overwhelmed by my nakedness, but a quick glance around the class proved that theory was bogus. The entire class was filled with young, college-aged women stacked with breasts the size of cantaloupes, Barbie-sized waistlines, and legs that went on for days. Even if I could stand to spar with Atlas for more than ten minutes before losing my mind with anger, there was a sea of willing women with less bark and no bite to choose from.
Divine Desire: A Lotus House Novel: Book Three Page 3