“I should thank you,” Shandra said, waving them over. “You’ve made me the coolest grandmother on the island. At least that’s what Milo said when Briggs Keaton called the farm. Milo is quite a fan of boxing—a sport I never approved of until he showed me a video of you, Libby.”
“A video?” she replied. By now, she should simply accept the inevitable. If astronauts had viewed the viral video, it wasn’t quite a stretch to imagine an eighty-year-old yogi on a tucked-away island in the Pacific tuning in.
“You were standing in front of a Victorian house in the mountains, demonstrating a new type of yoga. I couldn’t take my eyes off you, dear.”
The no-vibrators-included video.
Libby released a relieved sigh. “I thought you might have seen another video.”
Shandra raised an eyebrow. “You mean the one where you were throwing items at Erasmus?”
Oh boy!
“Yep,” she answered, her cheeks heating.
“Don’t let that embarrass you, dear. There’s nothing wrong with embracing the unorthodox.”
“That’s one way to put it,” she replied, still unable to believe she was conversing with Shandra.
“Some of the most remarkable discoveries are made when two opposing energies come together and create order from chaos. Between boxing and yoga, there’s an elegant balance to your Pun-chi flows. I’ve incorporated a few moves into my morning routine.” A wry grin stretched across the yogi’s face. “It makes me feel like an eighty-year-old badass.”
“Your punches were spot on. I wouldn’t want to face you in the ring,” Raz added with an approving nod.
Shandra patted his arm. “You’re very kind, young man.”
It still felt like a dream. Libby surveyed the beach and inhaled the ocean air, her senses feasting on the tropics.
“I can’t believe I’m here, on Moloka’i, with you. I was heartbroken when your program went off the air a few years ago. Was that hard when it ended?”
A grin stretched across the yogi’s face. “No.”
“No?” Libby echoed.
“Our chi, our life-force, is like a river, Libby. Sometimes a log or a large rock blocks the flow. That isn’t an obstacle. It’s an opportunity.”
“An opportunity for what?”
“To grow. Love and loss, pain and pleasure. They exist in tandem. They rely on each other for their own definition and meaning. To disregard one upsets the balance. Make friends with the setbacks. Welcome your wounds. Your chi is grounded in truth. That’s why I always signed off by saying love is stronger than any force holding you back. But don’t be fooled. It isn’t quite as easy to do as it seems.”
“How so?” she asked, absorbing Shandra’s energy.
The woman gazed at the ocean. “The trick is uncovering what that force holding you back is. It’s not always what you think, but it’s exactly what it needs to be.”
“That’s deep,” Raz said, blowing out a heavy breath as he shook his head.
“What’s really deep is learning how to overcome your fears and acknowledge what truly matters. Sometimes, it’s right in front of you,” the yogi added with a knowing glint in her eyes.
Libby glanced at Raz and found him gazing at her.
“Enjoy your time on the island,” Shandra said, gifting them with a warm grin. “You’ll have complete privacy here. This beach is part of my family’s land. We’re honored to have you, and thank you for the donation, Erasmus.”
“Donation?” Libby said, turning to her boxer.
“Yes, quite a hefty donation,” Shandra answered. “We don’t make much in profits. My family’s work on the farm is a labor of love. But we believe in giving back. We mail out a percentage of the leis we make to community centers and senior living facilities across the United States. Our flowers bring people a little piece of the beauty of Moloka’i and allow them to savor the scents of island life.”
“I’m pleased to do it. Thank you, Shandra. This means the world to us,” Raz said, leaning in to embrace the woman.
“I’m grateful our paths crossed,” the yogi replied, then removed the flower from her hair and handed it to Raz. “I’ll let you help Libby with this,” she added before rolling up her mat and heading down the path toward the farm.
Raz slid the delicate bloom behind her ear. “Now, you’re my Hawaiian goddess.”
She smiled up at him, so completely in love. “You’re a good man, Erasmus Cress.”
He waved her off. “I told Briggs to do whatever it took to get us here. He and his team got it done.”
She looked him over. “Is that humility coming from the British beefcake?”
He bit back a grin. “Only for you. Now,” he said, leaning in, all that modesty draining away. “I know what you’ve been waiting for. Don’t you want to touch it?”
She grinned up at him, swooning over the man. “Of course, I do, but we might want to make sure Shandra is out of earshot.”
“Plum?” Raz said, amusement twinkling in his eyes.
“Yes?”
“I was talking about the tree swing.” He tipped her chin and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “But I see where your energy is directed, Miss Wham, Bam Pun-chi Yogi. And I cannot say that I’m disappointed,” he continued, taking her hand and leading her toward the swing.
“It’s like walking into a dream. The aquamarine water is just how I remembered it.” She reached toward the gray, braided rope but stopped before touching it. “I thought about this swing so often as a girl. I’d try to imagine how many storms it had weathered.”
“And it’s still here, looking bloody sturdy,” he said. The sun shined on his face, highlighting his strong cheekbones and casting him in a glow.
The man was more Greek god than mere mortal, and he wanted her.
Exhilaration thrummed through her body as she concentrated on the beefcake who’d given her more than she’d ever dreamed. “Take off your T-shirt,” she purred.
Sensing her shift in energy, Raz complied without a word of protest, his features growing solemn, his focus on one thing—and only one thing.
Her.
She took the shirt from him and placed it on the swing’s wooden bench.
“Take off your shorts and everything else,” she continued, watching the Adonis of a man strip at her command. The rays of early morning sunlight kissed his body. Bathed in a golden glow, his ripped torso and muscled, powerful limbs called out to her. She licked her lips, hungry for this man and his perfect cock, ravenous to feel him between her thighs. She dropped her gaze and greedily drank him in. It was safe to say the man was up for it, rock hard and ready to take her over the edge.
“Sit down on the swing,” she directed, her body quivering with desire.
The wooden plank creaked, and the ropes groaned as her beefcake complied.
With his gaze swimming with lust, he gripped the rope and set his sights on her.
“Your turn, plum. I want to see every gorgeous inch of you,” he growled, rocking back and forth, his powerful legs flexing with each movement. “And Libby?”
“Yes?”