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My skin tingled and my breath felt stuck in my chest as the front of my legs brushed up against the soft material of the couch.
“Thank you,” I said in a soft, airless voice as I widened my stance, and brought my knees up on either side of Rowe’s thighs, lowering my weight down, but not all the way.
I swear there was a disappointed ache between my thighs at the forced distance.
“It’s fine,” Rowe said, voice tight. Uncomfortable, I guess. I couldn’t even blame him. I knew how bent out of shape Hope got when I invited her to any sort of class that had a sexual or intimate or naked aspect to it.
My things weren’t everyone’s things.
And that was okay.
“Can I?” I asked, reaching for his wrist.
“Sure,” he said, voice even tenser than before as I lifted his hand, putting it near the center of my chest. Close enough for me to feel the warmth of his skin in the cool room, but not quite touching.
I reached for his other hand, pressing it low down near my groin, then scooped my arms under his to press my hands over his body as well.
I couldn’t, though, seem to make my gaze lift.
I found myself studying his throat.
“Okay, everyone in position?” I asked, getting a chorus of agreement since I couldn’t see them all from my position on top of Rowe. “Just practice the breathing like you did for yourself. But this time, imagine breathing into the space under your partner’s hand, then exhaling down toward the other hand.”
As I said the instructions, my damn body decided to comply, so used to it. The problem was, I definitely didn’t need to be feeling tingles and tightening when I was sitting right on top of Rowe.
The breath was deep, expanding my chest so far that Rowe’s fingers brushed my skin, making little fireworks spark at the contact. My gaze shot up to his face quickly enough that I saw a flash of surprise cross his deep eyes as well.
It was right then that I remembered I was holding my breath.
On habit, I released it downward between my thighs to my sacral chakra.
And, well, let’s just say that the tingling and tightening was so acute that a shiver actually moved through me. It was a full body shiver, too. There was no way he didn’t notice.
In fact, as I watched, I was almost sure something close to heat flashed across his eyes.
Except that wasn’t possible.
“Again,” I called, but I wasn’t even sure I’d raised my voice enough to be heard by the rest of the class.
This time, though, when I pulled in a deep breath, so did Rowe. And I was close enough to watch as he felt the energy shift from his chest to his groin. There was no mistaking the heat right then. Or the surprise, the confusion.
“Again,” I called, my whole body starting to feel like it was buzzing. I couldn’t help but wonder if Rowe was feeling the same way.
It was what I liked best about breath work. You could practically get high off of it.
“Okay,” I called to the class, turning my head because I needed to break the eye contact with Rowe. “You can drop your hands now if you want, but with each inward breath, I am going to want everyone to rock their hips forward. And with each exhale, backward. Make sure not to be grinding on your partner. This is about touchless connection,” I told them.
A low grumble moved through me when my gaze found Reggie shooting me a glower, his brow raised like he was waiting for me to follow my own instructions.
“Kick him out,” Rowe suggested in a barely-there voice.
“I can’t,” I said, lifting my hips a little bit higher to prevent any accidental grinding, not fully trusting myself to follow my own damn instructions. “Inhale,” I called, sucking in a breath as my hips shifted forward while Rowe stayed stationary given his position and injury. “And exhale,” I called, shifting my hips back, my knees instinctively grabbing his hips for stability as I did so.
He seemed to move out of instinct too, his hand reaching out, grabbing the underside of my knee, holding on to make sure I didn’t fall backward.
“Again,” I called as my stomach started to flip-flop at the intensity of Rowe’s gaze on me.
I needed to remind myself that, like with massage, there was a certain physical reaction to exercises like this, that it didn’t actually mean anything, that if I was turned on, or he was turned on, it was because that was what was supposed to happen. It wasn’t personal.
But, God, it felt personal as the no-contact grinding continued, as my pussy got more and more tingly, my clit feeling like it was throbbing with need.
I knew myself too.
