Chapter 21 #2
“No. Just that maybe you should learn that hard-charging into things isn’t always the best play. Sometimes you need to breathe a little. To allow rather than control.”
“Now who’s being predictable, Miss Crunchy Granola Yoga Instructor?”
We move into the living room, shifting furniture to make space, and I lead him through a simple seated flow.
His body is warm beneath my hands as I adjust his posture—his muscles strong and taut beneath his skin.
Every time my fingers brush against him, I’m hyper-aware of the heat radiating between us, of how much space he takes up, physically and otherwise.
I guide him through the poses, my voice soft. “Breathe into it.”
He sits up, his face so close to mine that I can see the faint stubble along his jaw.
Our eyes meet, and for a heartbeat, I forget how to breathe.
I’m tumbling, head over heels through the bluest sky, standing on a pier watching him walking away, certain that Nick Hutton is my future…
until he cocks his head and pulls back slightly, returning me to the here and now.
“What does that even mean?” he asks, his voice low, gravelly. “Breathe into it?”
I swallow, trying to focus. “Allow the inhale to expand your ribs and lungs, to lengthen your body, then use the exhale to soften into the stretch. Let the movement happen naturally. Don’t force it. Just let it be.”
Nick’s gaze stays locked on mine for a second too long.
For a second, I think he might kiss me. Or I might kiss him.
Like the year separating us never happened and he never pushed me away and I never met Davis.
It’s just me and Nick, the way I thought we were meant to be.
But then he leans forward into the stretch again, seemingly oblivious to the electricity crackling between us.
“Allow. Soften. Don’t force it,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “I made a life out of making things happen. Observe. Orient. Decide. Act. On a loop. I didn’t ‘allow’ shit.”
“Well then observe the tension in your body, orient on the way your breath changes that feeling, decide to soften into it, then make it happen, Marine.”
He lets out a low, gravelly chuckle, his lips quirking in a half-smile. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It is.” I meet his eyes, my breath catching at the intensity there. “You just have to trust yourself.”
The words hang between us, heavy with unspoken meaning.
His gaze flickers to my lips, and I feel a flush creep up my neck, the heat of him so close it’s dizzying.
My fingers linger on his arm, and for one breathless second, I forget everything—Davis, the past, the promises I made to myself to keep my distance.
Nick chuckles, still shaking his head, but takes a deep breath and sure as hell, I feel him soften. I follow the curve of his spine with my hand, trying to stay professional, but the heat of him, the sheer presence of him, makes it difficult to focus.
“There it is,” I murmur, “that’s it.”
Nick groans softly as he melts into the pose, and the sound sends a shiver coursing through me.
My core tightens in response, heat pooling low in my belly.
I bite the inside of my cheek, my breath catching.
That’s a sound that will definitely be used in my own, more personal stress releasing activities later.
We move through sun salutations, and I talk Nick through how to navigate Downward-Facing dog, correcting his form as he struggles to relax into the slow, controlled movements. His body is made for power, for explosive energy. This kind of practice is obviously foreign to him.
“Don’t laugh,” he warns as we get to tree pose, his eyes narrowing playfully.
I smirk. “No promises, Mr. Giraffe.”
He groans, sagging a little. “Come on, Charlie, I’m asking for your help here.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I say, laughing softly.
I’m doing everything I can not to see you as a walking sex fantasy, I think. Humor seemed more appropriate than rubbing my body against yours.
I swallow the thought, focusing on his form. “Okay, just send your energy down through your standing leg and let yourself grow taller with each breath. Don’t think about balancing, just feel it.”
He wobbles but doesn’t fall. Not yet.
“It’s my other side that’s the problem,” he mutters, shifting his weight. “My back just…”
Before he can finish, he stumbles, and without thinking, I reach out to steady him. He catches my arm, and suddenly it’s everything I’ve been trying to avoid.
We’re pressed together, his chest against mine, his breath mingling with mine…
Bodies definitely rubbing...
Sex fantasies definitely happening…
Nick’s eyes darken, and my heart slams against my ribcage as his hand tightens on my waist.
For a second, neither of us moves. The air around us is thick with tension, with unspoken words and years of history, and for one terrible moment I remember everything that’s happened between us, all of it, all together, all at once.
Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, Nick releases his breath.
He softens.
Then he leans in and presses his lips to mine.
The kiss is gentle at first—tentative, like he’s giving me the chance to pull away.
But when I don’t, when I press back against him, it deepens, his hand sliding up my spine, pulling me closer.
I feel the heat of him everywhere, the solid weight of his body grounding me, anchoring me in this moment.
My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, and I can taste the salt of the ocean on his lips, the rush of his breath as it mingles with mine.
Desire curls warm and molten in my belly and I feel his answering as he grips me tighter, his mouth on mine, tender, demanding.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard, his forehead resting against mine.
The silence between us is charged, our bodies still pressed together.
It would be so easy to fall into him. To feel all the things I promised I’d never give to another man.
Not after the way I lost Nick. Not after the way Davis threw me away.
But Garrett’s right. It’s way too soon for me to let that happen.