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neck
    toward the tailbone, then bringing the
    head back to the
    floor, in al ways easing the body.
    Then she enhanced the
    effect by mixing it with a relaxation
    exercise. “Starting at
    your feet, relax your toes, one by one.
    The arches of your
    feet, your ankles…”
    She progressed up the body, one
    muscle group at a
    time, and for each he relaxed, she
    was sure hers tensed
    and quivered further, because her
    mind was fol owing that
    progression up every inch of his
    body. Things were
    throbbing between her thighs that
    never throbbed. Or hadn’t
    in recent memory. She wasn’t going
    to survive this. She
    became vicious with herself,
    imagined the humiliation of
    jumping him like some sex-starved
    spinster… She wasn’t
    able to be anything like what he
    would want. She wasn’t
    young, beautiful. Her breasts weren’t
    bad, but they certainly
    didn’t sit up high and firm as they
    once had. She had
    stretch marks, as wel as the soft
    pouch at her stomach
    many mothers and post-forty women
    had, only she didn’t
    have the child to show for it.
    Most importantly, she wasn’t able to
    have an orgasm.
    That cinched it, right? Faking one for
    her fantasy would
    shatter her soul.
    Thank God, the five minutes were up.
    Rol ing away from
    him, she went into the fetal position.
    It was supposed to
    comfort, a symbolic return to the
    womb, a lovely way to
    finish a practice and come out of it
    energized, as if newly
    born. Instead, it reminded her of the
    many days she’d spent
    in that position beneath her covers
    after Kyle was kil ed,
    after Cole had left her for good. She
    hadn’t bathed, hadn’t
    brushed her teeth. She’d embraced
    her malodorous self. A
    shower was an offensive mockery, a
    dead heart pretending
    to be alive.
    A few more minutes and it would be
    over. She’d thank
    him for coming, offer the namaste ,
    say she had an
    appointment of some vague origin
    and make her escape.
    She’d go home to her sanctuary and
    pul it back together
    again.
    Then he shifted on his mat. He was
    right behind her, his
    arm sliding around her waist, his
    body curving in behind
    hers, that incredibly emotional
    spooning position, her
    bottom cradled in his lap as he
    brought his knees up
    behind hers. His chest was against
    her shoulder blades, his
    breath on the back of her neck. He
    was so close to her, he
    had to have his other arm crooked
    beneath his head.
    “What are you doing?” She didn’t pul
    away, despite the
    alarm her tone revealed. He was firm
    in al the right places,
    strong and male. Rather than a frontal
    attack, a kiss or a
    pass she could rebuff, he’d chosen
    this, something warmly
    intimate. What she’d assumed were
    fanciful imaginings
    might be frightful truth—that he could
    read her needs so
    easily it was like breathing.
    “What I want. Sssh. Be stil . And I
    mean that at al levels.
    Stil your mind, Rachel, the same way
    you just stil ed your
    body, one tense bundle of thoughts at
    a time, and give
    yourself to me. You don’t need to
    think.”
    In truth, al she could think about was
    that arm around her
    waist, his hand against her abdomen,
    the fingers spread so
    his forefinger rested right below her
    breast, his smal est
    finger on her lower abdomen, near
    the crease of hip and
    thigh that made a lap. With her
    backside nestled into his
    lap, she felt the shape of him, the way
    his cock stirred
    against her. It made her worry, her
    hand closing over his
    anxiously.
    “Sssh. Obey me, Rachel. We’re
    going to lie here. That’s
    al I’m going to al ow to happen.”
    Not, “I’m not going to ask or demand
    anything of you”.
    This was al he required and would
    permit. It amazed,
    aroused and soothed her at once, a
    peculiar triad that
    made her hand tighten over his further
    until he loosened her
    grip, reversed it so he had her wrist
    manacled, their two
    hands tangled beneath her breasts.
    Then he touched the
    wedding band. When he pinched it
    between his thumb and
    forefinger,