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all my life that my eyes were the way to their hearts. If it would help get me back in Amber’s good graces, I’d work with what I had.
    She inhaled deeply, licked her lips, and nodded. If she were mine, I’d have leaned over and kissed away any concerns or confusion. But since she wasn’t, I could only imagine what it would be like to tunnel my fingers into her thick hair, cup both of her cheeks, and kiss her until she’d succumbed to the power flowing between us. It would be beautiful. Wild. Untamed. Exactly the type of relationship I’d been searching half a decade for. The one private takeaway from all my studies in the art of Tantra was to never settle. Be respectful of the women I’d allowed in my life or taken to bed, but never commit to anyone with my whole heart and soul who didn’t feel like the one. My other half.
    I didn’t know if the woman who sat before me with her stiff upper lip, her quickness to assess a situation, a zealous relationship with God, and her sharp tongue was that woman, but I had a desire to find out.

Chapter Four
    Warrior 2 (Sanskrit: Virabhadrasana II)
    Warrior 2 is an “asana” or pose that encourages power. In this position, the yogi feels strong and balanced. Place your feet leg width apart on the mat. Make sure that the knee facing the top of the mat is at a ninety-degree angle. Attempt to rip the mat apart with your feet, spreading them wide. Expand the arms out in a “T” and focus your gaze intently over your fingertips. You are mighty. You are power. You are a warrior.
    AMBER
    A brunette woman with similar features to Coree’s brought our lunch, setting down the food and a stack of napkins. I promptly grabbed one, unfolded it, and placed it in my lap, smoothing the creases over and over. My nerves were shot. Fear and anxiety crawled up my throat like a spider looking for an exit. I took a deep breath, grabbed my water, and chugged down half of it in several long gulps. The chilly liquid slid down my throat, bringing a sense of calm and serenity with it. That was until Dash set his hand on my knee. The simple gesture burned like a white-hot brand.
    “So Amber, tell me about you. What do you do for fun?” Dash bit into his sandwich and waited patiently for me to gather my thoughts. His hand didn’t leave my knee.
    I lifted the soup spoon, blew on the creamy concoction before eating it, and tried not to focus on the press of his warm palm to my bare skin. The moment the potato and bay leaf hit my tongue, I had a small reprieve. Scrumptious heaven. I moaned around the spoon as I removed it from my mouth and went for more, still not sure how to respond to his question or find a way to politely move his hand from my knee. Dash didn’t make a sound until I looked up.
    “Amazing.” He shook his head and leaned back in his chair. Finally, the hand went with him.
    I looked away, feeling uncertain. “What’s amazing? The food? I agree. They really make a stellar homemade soup.”
    Dash’s amber eyes deepened into a rich caramel. I could stare into those eyes for days on end.
    He smirked and blinked slowly as he seemed to catalog my entire face in one look. “No…you.”
    I slurped down another bite of velvety goodness. Briefly, I wondered if they would give out the recipe. Probably not. Trade secret or something. Wait… “Huh?”
    “You really have absolutely no idea how beautiful you are.” He rubbed his chin with one hand. “Even the simplest things you do with a grace beyond your years. For instance, the way you delicately hold your hair back as you lean forward over your bowl to eat.” His eyes zeroed in on my mouth. “How succulent your lips look when you blow on your spoon. Makes me want to clasp your neck and do sinful things to that mouth.”
    I gasped and dropped my spoon into the soup, proving to be the very opposite of his flattering comment. The spoon splashed into the liquid, plopping generous blobs onto the tablecloth.
    Dash didn’t seem to care.