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I can’t call them out on it, either, because they’re doing their part, working the poses, and whenever I glance their way, their gazes drop. I have to keep in mind they’re my bosses, and aside from the other night with Kace, they haven’t made a single pass at me. Jokes are jokes.
I laugh. I engage. I indulge in the moment because I am enjoying their company. The more time I spend around these men, the more comfortable I become. There is something about the way they treat me, the way they speak to me, the way they make me feel, that brings out my softer, chattier side.
“Okay, we’re gonna do the tree pose next. The Vrksasana,” I say, slowly standing up from a lengthy lunge. “I assume you’re familiar with it?”
My muscles have stretched more than usual in the past hour because I don’t generally do the poses with my clients. Instead, I make sure they stay focused on doing their own poses correctly, helping them where needed. I teach them breathing techniques, and I assist those who have flexibility issues.
Kace gives me a wry smile. “We are, but why don’t you show us? We need to make sure we’ve been doing it right.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. Follow my lead.”
The three men smile as they mirror my pose. My gaze begins to wander, and I start to notice small details on their muscular legs and arms. The detailed art of their tattoos. The fine scars on Elias’s calf. The circular scar left by a bullet in Kace’s shoulder. I remember running my fingers over it during our first night together.
I notice a twitch in Finn’s thigh muscle as his right leg straightens for the pose. I lick my lips as my gaze lingers on Kace’s hips, the sculpted V-shape slightly visible through the black fabric of his tank top.
“So, tell us more about that asshole giving you trouble the other day,” Elias says out of the blue, the subject change so sudden that I’m caught off guard.
“My ex-fiancé,” I mutter. “Please, accept my apologies again for that. I had no idea he would do such a thing. I don’t know how he figured out where I work.”
Elias shakes his head. “Stop apologizing, Amaya. You have nothing to feel sorry about. That man is solely responsible for his actions, and his behavior is not a reflection of you in any way. How long were you together?”
“Almost five years,” I reply.
“So he’s not Mikey’s father?” Kace is quick to cut in with a question I reckon he’s been dying to ask.
“God, no.” Dammit, this conversation needs to change course, and it needs to do so quickly. “How about you three? Ever married? Kids?”
The men exchange amused glances before they look at me and change the tree pose onto the other leg. They know the drill by now.
“We’re single,” Kace says. “But we’re not opposed to something serious, something long-term.”
“I see…”
“We haven’t found a woman to understand precisely how tight our friendship is,” Elias says.
“What do you mean?” I ask. Yet somewhere in the back of my head, I have a feeling I already know the answer. Their eyes tell me that much. I dare not say it out loud, though. It could be just my imagination. My dirty mind playing tricks.
“We spend a lot of time together,” Elias says. “We’re blood brothers, Amaya. We’ve been to hell and back; years in the service, years in the financial industry, the tech business. Many people don’t get just how close we are, how important we’ve become to one another.”
“And it’s hard for most women to understand that with this type of bond comes a certain preference on our part. An ideal we haven’t found just yet,” Finn adds.
“Let’s move into the downward facing split dog, now,” I reply, unsure of what else to say.
We finish with the child’s pose, focusing on our breathing as sweat drips down our faces. In my bid to put some inner fires to rest, I may have amplified the intensity of the last few sets of poses in order to wear myself out. I’m not sure it worked, though, because I’m still hot and aching for more of Kace.
I can’t get enough of his stolen glances, and the fact that I’m getting a different kind of attention from Finn and Elias as well is causing my body to be ridiculously responsive to things barely hinted at.
I dare not imagine how quickly I’d crumble if I found myself wedged between these three men. The air in the studio suddenly feels so thick, I could cut it with a butter knife.
“How did you like your first private session?” I ask when the four of us are standing again.
Finn puts on a debonair smile and throws his towel over one shoulder. “I’m definitely looking forward to the next one,” he says, glancing at his friends. “What do you think, fellas? Twice a week?”
“Make it three,” Kace replies. “Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Early morning. Does that suit you?” he asks me.
“I’ll have to check my schedule,” I say, “but I think I’ve got a good opening between seven and eight.”
“A good opening. Fantastic,” Finn quips.
