“Yes, Rachel. You may.”
No nervous half smile and quick one-word assent, as often happened with a new student, surprised by the question. Those four words, uttered in that velvet tone, had brought back to life dangerous fantasies she’d kept quelled for so long. She had the crazy thought that it wouldn’t matter when or how she wanted to touch him. He would always require that she wait for his permission. It made her palms dampen and her pulse flutter.
Maintaining her focus that day, staying centered in her practice, had been all but impossible, because all she could think about was touching him at the end of it. She’d lectured herself, messed up right and left cues about twelve times, until her students were teasing her good-naturedly. However, when she finally knelt at his head, her hands scented with lavender and eucalyptus oils, she’d tried to keep her eyes on the gold band of her wedding ring, the protection that illusion gave her. Instead, her gaze strayed to his closed eyes, the set of his firm mouth, the slope of his jaw. The way his hair brushed her skin as she laid her fingers on his temples.
She imagined what would happen if he lifted his hands, closed them over her wrists, holding her manacled there as he opened his eyes, looked up at her and made entirely different demands. Just the vision made her wet, a shocking development. It had been quite a while since anything had caused her to have that response.
As if some kind of devil on her shoulder was determined to make things worse, Jon had lifted his chin as she settled her fingers on his brow. Though he kept his eyes closed, his nostrils flared. “I like this scent, Rachel,” he said, his voice low.
Of course he meant the eucalyptus and lavender. Right?
* * * * *
Of course he did. He was a business executive who had the confidence to handle people well. For heaven’s sake, he’d never made a single inappropriate move toward her. She needed to put him out of her mind. Particularly right now, with Peter and Dana here. It made thinking about him all the more hazardous. The idea that her small world had rolled into the trajectory of two full-blown sexual Dominants was an irony that smacked of the Universe’s cruelest sense of humor. It was best for her to pretend she’d never heard that powerful word fall from Dana’s lips, a word that unlocked all sorts of wild things in Rachel’s soul.
The same word she’d been certain had belonged in that empty space when she’d asked Jon if she could touch him. And how insane was that?
Jon Forte. Just saying his name in her mind made her breath shorten and crazy things happen to her body. Things that her body didn’t do, hadn’t done, for a very long time. Unlike Peter, he was not engaged and therefore far too tempting. He might as well have been happily married though, because he was no less off limits, for a variety of reasons. She reminded herself of the least painful one, that the man was at least ten years younger than she was. Probably fifteen, though she winced to push it that far. He was closer to her son’s age than hers.
The age her son would be now, if he were still alive. Another sharp hurt came with that thought, even higher up. In a moment, she was going to be as rigid with pain as one of her new patients, fresh from a car wreck.
Damn it, she was done with all the things that Peter and Jon represented. She’d tried to go down that road and ended up nearly destroying herself. Squaring her shoulders, she turned away from her thoughts, her desires and her memories, and gave herself the here, the now and the realistic—a much safer trinity.
Chapter Two
“All right, there you go. Take a deep breath. Think we can go a bit further?” Rachel leaned on the triceps, ready to push the arm back another notch if Dana gave her the slightest indication she was ready for it, though she was pretty sure the woman had reached her limit.
Dana gave her a quick jerk of a nod and closed her eyes, focusing. Watching the tension throughout the rest of Dana’s body, Rachel cut the hold time down to half before she released. “I think that’s plenty for today. You’ve made progress since last time. You’re doing your exercises religiously.”
“Try getting out of them with an ex-captain who wants to be a drill sergeant when he grows up.” Dana managed a wan smile.
Reaching into the drawer next to the cot, Rachel withdrew a gold-foiled chocolate and put it in Dana’s hand. “Your reward. You did really, really well, honey. I know it’s slow, but you’re improving your flexibility at the rate someone like me wants to see.”
“Improving, but it will never be the same as before.” Dana pressed her lips together, showing the strain behind the words, but then she sat up with a quick snap, a shake of her head. “Sorry. Weak-assed thing to say.”
Rachel put a hand on her shoulder, but merely said, “You’re still doing the Iyengar poses I showed you, with the straps?”
“Yes.” Dana nodded, offered that half-smile again. “Peter likes the straps.”
Rachel normally would have managed a witty comeback, but it caught in her throat. She couldn’t joke today. She was too full of envy for what Dana had.
“Hey.” Dana moved her hand to Rachel’s knee. “You okay?”
“Yes. Definitely. I was just…smiling at you two. Being so in love and all. It’s a nice thing to see.”
“It’s a nice thing to feel.” Dana cocked her head. Rachel’s left hand was resting on her knee, so now her patient was touching the gold band on her ring finger, a plain contrast to the diamond engagement set that flashed on Dana’s. “I hope you’re going to tell me you still feel that way about your husband. It might keep me from bashing in Peter’s big rock head before we even make it down the aisle. Or are you still newlyweds?”
It happened on occasion. Rachel would never lie about it, but she did everything to avoid being asked. “I’m not… I’m divorced.”
“I’m sorry.” Dana’s fingers tightened on her hand, over that ring. “Was it recent?”
Dana was planning to attend seminary. Though she’d only just begun prep courses for it, Rachel could tell she was going to be a good minister. She already had that quiet, soothing way of talking that made it feel like she was inviting a confession and forgiveness, instead of being intrusive or nosy. Of course the idea of forgiveness for a passionless crime…
She didn’t want more questions, so it was best to get it out, rip the bandage off fast. “No. It’s been a few years. I wear the ring so I don’t have to fend off male attention.” She forced herself to sound light, breezy. “It’s appalling how few men are deterred by it these days, but it does help some.”
Rachel was far more curvy than Dana’s regal Ethiopian physique. Full-breasted, with a generous ass and hips that didn’t bother her, because the yoga kept it all firm and healthy, even if she didn’t match the standard for thin. She knew from experience she was far more likely to catch the eyes of passing males than the pencils in designer wear a couple decades younger. She did understand that about men, that they liked a woman to hold in bed, liked the way clothes could be made to amplify those fertile attributes of breast and backside. But it was bolstering knowledge only, not designed to catch the passing fish who couldn’t meet her needs. She’d learned it was best not to cast the line.
“So no one in your life now?”
“Do I detect a matchmaking note? If so, remember I can actually tie your body in a pretzel shape and leave it that way.”