“I feel like an idiot,” Dyrk murmured.
Tessa didn’t laugh, even though she wanted to. If he thought the Lord of the Fishes pose looked weird… But this was a big hump for him to get over, the fear of looking silly. All men had it. Why were they all so dang terrified of getting in tune with their inner selves?
Slowly and gently, she eased him into many more difficult, pretzelesque positions, and he went along with them. To her surprise, he was more flexible than either of them assumed, which seemed to give him a burst of confidence as then moved into the Goddess Twist. The pose—feet spread wide, bent ninety degrees at the waist, hands on the knees as they twisted their backs very gently—was hard enough without risking injury to his fragile male ego by telling him the name of it.
Tessa spent most of her time reassuring him that he didn’t look stupid with his nice, tight ass sticking up in the air. Or that it was, in fact, physically beneficial to stretch and twist his body the way she instructed. But he slowly improved, and with every success came newfound elation. He did his best to hide it, but Tessa caught the occasional flicker of pride when he mastered a new pose.
For Tessa, the most enjoyable part of the evening was helping him perfect his posture. Touching his body, gripping his hips, bending him to her will certainly gave her a thrill. But beyond the physical part, her already strong admiration for Dyrk grew. It wasn’t easy for anyone to set aside their preconceived notions to try something so far out of their comfort zone.
By the time she had him on his back, rocking from side to side and holding onto his toes like a happy baby, he seemed exhausted. As usual, Tessa felt exhilarated, but he looked like he was in need of a serious pick-me-up—and she knew just the thing to make that happen.
“Okay, you just lie there in Savasana pose while I get my crystals for a treatment.”
Dyrk apparently didn’t even have the energy to protest her crystal treatment because all he could manage was a weak, “Huh?”
God, he was cute. “Just lie there on your back like that for a minute. I’ll be right back.”
“Thank god,” he sighed, letting his eyes close.
Tessa hurried off to her bedroom to grab her special dragon crystals. She’d bought them from an online specialty shop once she started working at Wildridge, figuring they’d come in handy one day. The day had come.
“What am I supposed to do now?” he groaned, barely able to move his eyes to follow her as she crouched next to him holding a small leather drawstring bag.
“Not a thing. Just lie there and I’ll do the rest.”
Tessa inched her way around him, shaking out a variety of lovely crystals the size of rock salt into her palm. Some were yellow, some green, others blue. Each had a purpose, even though she wasn’t entirely sure how they worked.
She carefully arranged each crystal around and on Dyrk’s body, trying to create a pattern that would promote calm and healing. And to her delight, it seemed to be working. She felt a strange, almost electrical connection between his body, the stones, and her fingertips. Like she could feel him slowly coming to life. Strangely, she felt closer to him, like some kind of intimacy was growing between them.
But just as they were finally getting somewhere, Dyrk sat up straight, eyes wide, and then scrambled to his feet. Tessa stared in surprise as he darted toward the door.
“Sorry. I-I have to get out of here.” Then he hastily slammed the door behind him.
Tessa sighed. Why were men so weird?
Chapter Three
Dyrk’s eyes popped open five minutes before his alarm went off, and unlike most days, his mind felt better than it had in years. He’d woken refreshed and invigorated—no rush of anxiety to jump into the day, no immediate stress as plans rushed through his head, and best of all, no tension in his muscles—except for the problem between his legs he’d hidden from Tessa.
He didn’t even have to rub the sleep from his eyes as he swung his legs out of bed and stretched his arms up high. He winced as muscles he’d never even known he had creaked and complained after the unusual workout from the night before. That, naturally, triggered thoughts of Tessa, which he shoved from his mind.
Keeping up the routine today was going to be a challenge.
Dyrk smoothed out his charcoal silk bedsheets so perfectly he could have bounced a penny off the surface. He spent a full five minutes making sure the bedspread was even on all sides before fluffing his pillows and standing at the foot of the bed to survey his room.
It was large, by anyone’s standards, and as minimalist in decor as the rest of his apartment. Not a sock was out of place, no belts left dangling over a chair back, the plush black rug was blissfully free of kitten hair, and the windows were so spotless, the tidy array of succulents sitting on the sill might as well have been outside.
Padding down the hallway in his bare feet, he emerged into a large, open-concept living room with a black, leather couch facing a large wall-mounted television with a spotless hardwood floor between them. As he walked to the kitchen, he called out for his automated house control unit to start his morning playlist on his state-of-the-art sound system.
Smooth jazz, with an undertone of classic funk, filled the apartment. It was just the thing to get him in the morning mood and clear his mind from all that hippie crap last night.
He went about his routine like clockwork. First he started the organic espresso he ground fresh each morning—never more or less than he needed—and he didn’t even have to set a timer as it boiled. He knew exactly how long it would take, and he used that time to whip up a piece of toast with butter and blackberry jam. The espresso filled the almost sterile kitchen with the warm, rich scent of his morning elixir.
As the kitchen gadgets worked their respective magic, Dyrk dropped to the floor for a handful of push-ups. Sure enough, that ache he’d felt earlier screamed into full-fledged pain. As often as he hit the gym, and as impressive as his physique was, he was surprised that Tessa’s silly yoga routine had affected him so much.
Using some of the techniques she’d shown him, he stretched out the sore muscles and glanced appreciatively around the room. Visitors often wondered if he actually had food stored in there because the sleek, metallic cabinets that sat flush in the walls seemed almost invisible. He loved having a tidy living space. Some homes he’d visited recently—one in particular—had clutter littered over every visible square inch of space. It was like white noise for the eyes and it drove him up a wall. Of course, he had no doubt Tessa would find his home impersonal, but it had worked well enough for him over the years.
The espresso disappeared down his gullet faster than it took to brew, but he took his time gnawing on his toast as he headed to the bathroom. In just a few minutes, the black tile walls became dewy as hot water cascaded over his sore muscles, and all was right with the world.
Reaching for the shampoo, Dyrk paused and noted how perfectly his toiletries were lined up on the edge of the shower. Each one sat facing forward in the precise order he used them. Normally, he wouldn’t have noticed such a small thing he didn’t even know was habit for him. But since last night, he almost felt a need to justify every choice he made in his home. Why?
He knew damn well why. Tessa’s place had been overflowing with knickknacks and mementos and whatever else must have caught her eye. It was as cluttered as an apartment could be, yet it still felt warm and homey, like he could sit in the overstuffed chair with patches forever and be happy about it. He didn’t own a single chair that made him simply want to sit.