“It’s a little mind-blowing that the donkeys are named Plum and Beefcake,” Libby noted as another soft bray fluttered in on the breeze.
“It threw me for a loop, too,” he confessed.
She leaned in toward him, and her leg brushed his, but she didn’t tense this time. This touch felt natural, almost expected, like the force that drew them together had strengthened, and there was no use resisting it. “What do you think the chances of that happening are?” she asked, her breath tickling his chin.
He moved closer and rested his hand on her knee. “Probably the same as lightning striking the same place twice.”
“And you’ve seen that happen two times,” she whispered.
He’d been twice blessed with a phenomenon most never experienced.
Could it mean more? Could it be a sign?
“Why didn’t you show up for your last fight, Raz?” she asked.
Just like Mere’s death, he’d told himself he wouldn’t talk about that day. He’d gotten good at putting on the arrogant mask and pretending nothing could touch him. But it came at a cost—a cost that ate away at his soul. A price he didn’t want to pay anymore. He stared into her eyes, those deep pools of amber that calmed his spirit. “It was like what happened today but on a bigger scale.”
She rested her hand on top of his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You experienced a panic attack?”
He nodded. “When it was time to leave for the fight, I couldn’t get off the floor. I couldn’t do anything but lay there, frozen.” He focused on their hands and allowed the soothing flow of energy to pass from her to him. “How did you do it, plum? How’d you stop it today?”
She threaded her fingers with his and stood, guiding him up with her. “I offered your heart another choice,” she said, like that made all the bloody sense in the world.
“Another choice? What does that even mean?”
She led him toward the door to her room. “I can show you. It’s easier if we have more space.”
“You want me to come with you to your bedroom?” he asked, like an idiot.
She pressed her palm to the door to her room and stared at it like they were communicating. “The room has good energy. The whole house does. But there’s something about this room. I think it’s the colors. They complement our energy.”
If someone had mentioned a room having good energy before, he would have laughed his arse off. Today, he couldn’t help but agree.
“Yeah, okay,” he answered, his voice squeaking like he was fourteen. He cleared his throat. “I’m down with the violet, blue, and the crows,” he tried again, making sure to add a low, gravelly quality to his response to counter his initial teenage squawk. But Libby didn’t seem to notice his walk down puberty lane. She opened the door, and they entered the space. Lit by the glow of a lamp across the room, the space invited him in like a confessional. Dropping his hand, she fluttered around, removing the pillows from the bed, and making a little violet and blue nest on the rug.
“Is this part of it?” he asked, not sure if he should take part in the pillow party.
“Yes, we’ll be on the ground. You have to sit first, cross-legged, please,” she instructed. “And take off your shirt,” she added as she slipped her tank top over her head, revealing that gold sports bra.
Bloody hell.
A tingle worked its way down his spine at the sight of it.
“Sure, shirts off works for me.”
“And shoes and socks,” she continued, slipping off her trainers.
Blimey, if this was the karma-licious yoga remedy for panic attacks, he was beginning to like the idea of adding yoga to his training schedule.
He sank into the cottony-soft nest and crisscrossed his legs. “Is this right?”
She played with her hair, letting it loose from the bun on the top of her head, and shook it out into soft waves before assessing his position. “Yes, that’s excellent. Now, close your eyes and take three slow breaths.”
He could do that.
One.
Two.
He was about to take his third when she rested her hands on his shoulders. Lowering herself, she sat in his lap, chest to chest, with her legs wrapped around his waist. And bloody hell, his cock took notice.
“I…um…” he muttered.
“Don’t apologize. I’m using my shakti on you. An erection is a natural reaction to my energy.”
He stared at her wide-eyed.
She made the word erection sound hot.
“What’s a shakti? Is it a type of sex toy?” he asked, trying to sound sophisticated, but that damn puberty voice struck again.
She chuckled. “No, shakti isn’t a sex toy. Think of it as my womanly vitality.”
“Huh?” He chewed on that for a second. At least he could comply. Pretty soon, he wouldn’t be able to think of anything other than her womanly vitality—especially with her in his lap nearly naked. “Right-o, womanly energy,” he answered with a British accent worse than Phoebe Gale. And he was an actual Brit, who’d been talking this way for his entire life. He cleared his throat, going back to the gravelly tone. “I understand.”
Get ahold of yourself, man.
“This is the yab yum position,” she explained.
He cocked his head to the side. He’d need a pad and a pen to keep up with the terminology. “Yab yum?”
“Yes.”
“Are you making this up like you did with Pun-chi yoga? Yab yum sounds like bubble gum or a type of candy floss.”
She giggled, and the sound, along with the majority of his blood supply, went right to his cock.
“This isn’t candy, Raz. These methods have been around for thousands of years. Are you ready to begin?”
He shifted slightly, relaxing as best as a man could while sporting a giant hard-on. “I think so.”
“Today, when I touched your chest, I didn’t press my palm to your heart. I pressed my wrist—my pulse point. I was nervous at the time. My heart was racing, too. But I had a feeling yours was skyrocketing.”
“It was. I thought I might pass out,” he answered. It wasn’t like him to be vulnerable. It wasn’t in the persona of a fighter. But with Libby, vulnerability didn’t feel like a weakness. With her, it was a strength.
She nodded. “My sort-of-steady heartbeat spoke to yours. It sent a message, asking your heart to mirror mine and slow down. I suspect the breath work also helped. If this ever happens again and you’re alone and feel like you’re losing control, lead with your breath, and your heart will follow.”
Lead with your breath, and your heart will follow.
Again, had he not lived through today, he would have discarded her spiritual mumbo jumbo as utter bullshit. “My body got your message. I felt the change instantly.”
She grinned. “I know. I felt it, too.”
He gazed into her amber eyes. “What happens now?”
She moved in closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. “We press our hearts together and align our breathing.”
That boner was going nowhere.
“What should I do with my hands?”
“Rest them wherever it feels natural.”
Without giving it a second thought, he gripped the globes of her arse, then dropped his hands. “Sorry, that just…happened.”