When she opened her eyes, he was taking a seat that mirrored her lotus position, sliding up so that his knees touched hers. Laying his hands there, palms up in invitation, he met her gaze, that powerful connection she couldn’t deny. “Close the circle, Rachel. Let the energy flow between us. You know as well as I do, when we meditate, things become clearer. Let’s go to that place together and see what we find.”
“I don’t think I can. My mind is too scattered.”
“Let’s try. Let me help.”
She gave a bitter half-chuckle. “You’re the reason it’s like that. You’re so persistent, and eventually you’ll win, but it won’t work, Jon. I’ll make you miserable, and I won’t be able to bear seeing it happen. Why don’t you understand that? Let me live my life like this, with yoga and physical therapy, and don’t make me take things to places I can’t control.”
“Lay your palms in mine, Rachel.”
She complied with a sigh, because in all truth, she couldn’t keep herself from touching him. He shifted one of his hands so her palm was the one facing up, his pressed down on it, the opposite of the other side, so they had balance in the closed circle. The heat of his flesh sent a ripple through her nerve endings, a jolt to her system as if she was an appliance that had been plugged in, brought to life. Fear constricted in her chest. He had so much power over her.
“Control is the whole point, Rachel.” His eyes locked on her face, holding her still. “As I told you in the beginning, you need a Master who won’t let you take control. I’m him. And you can keep fighting it, but I won’t give up. When I put that collar on you the other night, you knew you were mine. It was why you tried so hard to tear it off. Because Cole made you feel like an utter failure, and you thought you didn’t deserve what I was offering. Like a lot of other things, that ends now as well.”
The steel took over now. “I’ll never allow you to think that about yourself. When you grieve for your son, I’ll give you my arms, my comfort, and I’ll grieve with you, because he’s a part of your soul, a large part of who you are. But he’s in a place where he can understand now, where his father’s disappointment and anger can’t poison him. He knows, as I do, how much you love him. And how hard you tried to love his father. And because he knows, and loves you, he doesn’t want you in that grave with him.”
Their palms lay flat together, not gripping, yet still connected. Her gaze rested in the light clasp of his, her heart full of both uncertainty and longing, the way he so often made her feel. “It’s in yoga you found your peace,” he said in a low voice, his thumb making a gentle pass over her palm. “A way to accept the good and the bad, to have it make more sense. And as much as I enjoyed the club, this is where you need to accept me as your Master, in that delicate balance between the tragedies of the past and the possibility of your future. Breathe with me, Rachel. Just breathe with me, and let’s see what happens.”
He closed his eyes then, drawing that first deep breath, his hands loosening further so that their palms had room for some heat between them, that energy transfer. She watched him breathe, watched his chest expand, the lift and fall of his shoulders, the pulse at his throat.
His lips curved. “Close your eyes, girl, and breathe with me.”
She shut her eyes and began the pranayama. As the silence settled over them, their breathing started to align, and she was sure their heartbeats would as well.
They stayed that way for some time. Though attuned to Jon’s stimulating presence, her body integrated it, made it part of the calm center the breathing was expanding inside of her. Some of the sick fear and throbbing want started to ease, to slip away. As much as she wanted to deny it, she knew his presence was responsible. He helped bring her balance.
His hands left her palms, gracefully turned and curled around her wrists, a loose circle that slid back along her forearms, then forward once more as she kept her hands outstretched, both palms facing downward now, so when he came back he met them again, making them vibrate with the strip of heated space between them. Her wrists were tingling from his caress. Three more breath cycles, then he did it again. After nine repetitions, he spoke. “Keep your eyes closed.”
Using the pressure of his hands, he guided her to her feet with him. He faced her away from him, his touch falling to her waist. “Lift your hands above you, bending back toward me, arms overhead.”
She did, feeling the stretch in her spine, his shoulder beneath her head as she went into the second step of the sun salutation cycle. He slid up her rib cage, palms molding her there, holding her. “Tree pose.”
Sole of her foot pressed against the opposite thigh, knee bent, her hands adjusting to a pointed fold above her head. He took down her hair, combing it out with his fingers, and she held her balance with effort. “You are so beautiful,” he said, his voice a sensual rumble in the quiet room. “All mine.”
She trembled, but he steadied her, holding her in the pose. “Next phase. Forward fold, then to Down Dog.” When she folded forward, he was still holding her hips, fingers in the bend between hip and thigh, his body against hers. She let out a tiny sound as he pressed his groin against her through the narrow space between her legs. His cock was hard enough to make her mouth water, but he sounded entirely calm, placid as a lake.
“Keep your mind in a meditative state. Let the arousal take you where you need to go. Just let it happen, Rachel.”
He shifted so she could stretch her legs back into chaturanga, Plank, then she lifted her hips to lean back into Down Dog, taking the stretch to her shoulders, the back of her legs. He ran his hands along her buttocks now, down over the long muscles in her thighs.
“One day, I’ll make you hold this pose while I slide inside, let you feel how my cock buries into the very heart of you.” His fingers trailed over her dampening crotch panel and her arms quivered harder. But now he bent over her, his arm around her waist, steadying her as he dropped a kiss on the bump of her spine in the center of her back. “Have you ever done the camatkarasana, Rachel? The Wild Thing pose?”
She shook her head. She’d seen it of course, but maybe because of what it symbolized, a celebration of personal power and freedom, she’d avoided it.
“Well, we’re going to do it now.”
It was a very advanced position. From Down Dog, it took a lithe lift of hips, swinging one leg over so she’d go to a backbend asana, where her right leg would be straight out to the floor, foot rolled on its edge, while her left leg stayed bent, foot flat on the mat. One arm reaching up and out, off the mat, the other braced, then she’d arch her back farther to complete the pose.
He backed off then, but stayed close enough to spot her. “You can do it, Rachel. I want to see you do it. Do it for me. And for yourself. Deep breaths, feel what it means. Prepare yourself for it. Embrace it. When you’re ready, go.”
She breathed, closed her eyes, felt the thrum in her muscles, the energy flow through her. She’d found peace in yoga, balance, but she hadn’t become whole, because she’d hidden there, instead of treating it as a sacred sanctuary. Hiding meant that a person stayed out of sight of the good as well as the bad. A sanctuary had windows to see the world, a door to invite it in, because there was nothing to fear there.