“I get it.” Zander nodded. “Enjoy.”

Ten minutes later, Trey led her through the doors of a swanky gym. She frowned. This was not at all what she’d hand in mind, when he told her he had a cure for her stress. She’d rather be lying on a janitor’s cart with her heels in the air while Trey had his way with her.

Apparently, the man had other ideas.

And she wasn’t sure what she’d agreed to, by coming here with him.

He’d promised that her wardrobe was fine—sports bra, t-shirt, and leggings were acceptable attire for a yoga class. But one look at the other women who entered along with them and Devon felt completely overdressed, in the frumpiest way possible.

Thanks a lot, Trey.

In fact, as the lights dimmed and the women rolled out their mats, she noticed a distinct triangle surrounding her. The yoga teacher at the room’s head, then Trey and an annoyingly pretty woman beside him made up the second tier, and everyone else made rows behind them. Devon set up her mat at the very back of the room. No need to make an ass of herself in front of an audience.

Moments later, flute music started playing, and she attempted a “downward dog” on the mat Trey had let her borrow. Her ankles made a funny sound. Not natural. She was sure of that.

“Up on tiptoes, everyone,” the uber-perky blonde instructor droned. “Then one heel to the mat, one heel flexed. That’s good. Toes spread.”

Devon wasn’t sure what spread toes meant, but she was really glad she’d painted her toenails the other night. If she had to stare at her feet and see chipped polish, she might’ve walked out. A small reason to leave compared to this woman’s instructor’s insistence she make these bizarre poses.

Sure, she knew the gist of yoga. She’d even considered taking a Pilates class. Now? Hell, no. This was crazy, subjecting her body to the gymnastics this instructor described as they moved through the “Sun Salutation” and on to other contortionist positions.

This was supposed to be relaxing?

She’d rather go have a cigarette. Or even better, have sex with Trey.

Panting, she lifted her head from the downward dog position. She stole a glance at Trey who formed a triangle over his mat at the epicenter of the room. He looked like he was zoned out in a supernatural trance. But he was the hottest guy she’d ever laid eyes on.

The instructor continued naming poses. But the idea of bending her left leg over her elbow seemed trivial and unnatural to Devon. She’d rather enjoy the view.

Collapsing, she sat cross-legged on her borrowed mat, glad she’d chosen the back row. Was awakening kundalini energy a side effect of yoga? Because sexual awareness sizzled throughout her entire being.

She licked her lips, watching Trey’s body move. He wore a sleeveless Under Armour tank, and the chiseled muscles in his arms were on full display. The fabric molded to every ripple his abs created, contracting as he shifted from pose to pose. She wanted to run her tongue along the center groove that traveled from the middle of his chest, down his six-pack, and below the waist of his workout pants.

The instructor’s jargon about flowing through poses with a tight core activated Devon’s sweat glands. She felt very grounded in the moment, as though seeing a bronze statue of physical male perfection come to life.

As instructed, she focused on her breathing, inhaling slowly. Exhaling slowly. Envisioning Trey in the upward dog position between her thighs. Hot. She wished they were alone, so he could give her a private performance. She shivered, recalling how he’d held her firmly against his face while his mouth brought her to orgasm on the hood of his car. She couldn’t stop picturing him in her bed, making a memorable dent in the wall with her headboard.

The scent of perspiration and incense heightened her arousal. Her heart rate accelerated. She wanted all those big hard muscles flexing around her, above her, inside her.

At the tantalizing image, she inhaled sharply. The woman beside her looked at her askance.

“Sorry,” she whispered. She couldn’t control the desire flooding her veins. She’d never been so attracted to a man.

Apparently, she wasn’t alone.

As she glanced at the five rows of females in front of her, Devon realized every woman in the room was drooling over Trey. A flash of jealousy sent an uncomfortable flush crawling over her skin. Any glimpse of relaxation fled, replaced by restlessness and the urge to announce that the gorgeous guy in the front of the room was hers. So back off, ladies.

Maybe if he satiated her between the sheets, she’d get him out of her system. Everything would go back to normal. But she had the sobering suspicion this man would alter her expectations of normal...and once she had him, she’d want more of him. She hadn’t expected herself to fall all over a man after one yoga session. But damn, she couldn’t blame the women in his class for drooling over him.

It was probably best that she’d leave Denver soon. She hated the thought of seeing Trey with another woman, possibly one in this room, once their fling ended and he moved on to fertile pastures.

A part of her withered inside. She couldn’t give this devoted family man what he wanted most—a family of his own.

“Return to cobbler’s pose,” the instructor said. “Now, lie on your back, knees together, and feel the balanced energy renew your spirit.”

The only thing Devon felt renewed was her decision to take the job in Phoenix. She promptly crossed yoga off her list of relaxing activities. She’d stick to wine and online gaming. And sweaty sex with Trey, as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

“Namaste,” the instructor cooed, “and be well.”

Everyone in the room stood and rolled up their yoga mats. She did the same, but it took a few tries because it kept going cockeyed.

Several women approached Trey before Devon had the chance. They fawned all over him under the lame pretext of asking his opinion on various poses. Devon crossed her arms and glared at them.

“Was this your first class?”

Devon dragged her gaze from Trey to find the instructor staring at her expectantly. She shrugged. “I guess it’s pretty obvious. Sorry if I ruined anyone’s flow.”

“I’m glad you joined us.” The petite blonde gave a warm smile. “Everyone is welcome, no matter what their level of experience. Yoga is a personal practice, so don’t worry about anyone else’s flow except your own.” She patted Devon’s arm. “It’s fortunate you came just in time. This class is always full, and sometimes we have to turn people away.”

Tags: Vanessa Waltz Billionaire Bodyguard Suspense
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