Page 136 of The Yoga Teacher

“Don’t make this complicated,” she murmured.

Then she kissed him.

And he fell into it like he’d been starving.

But his hands—God, his hands. They were gentle. One hovered at her waist. The other trembled just shy of her hip. Like if he grabbed too tightly, she’d change her mind and vanish.

She broke the kiss.

“This is just sex,” she said. Cool. Clear.

Daniel’s brow furrowed, like it physically hurt him to hear her say it. “Hannah—”

“Don’t start.”

“Hannah,” he said again, softer now. Like a prayer. Like an apology. “It can’t be just sex for me.”

She didn’t soften. Didn’t waver. “Okay.”

His eyebrows knit, uncertain. “Okay?”

“It’s not casual for you. I get it,” she said, gaze steady. “As long as you can keep it to yourself, it doesn’t matter.”

Her fingers moved to the hem of his shirt.

“I’m not here for feelings, or second chances, or some cathartic heart-to-heart,” she said. “This isn’t about what you want, Daniel. This is about whatIwant.”

His breath stuttered.

He nodded—once, sharp—like he was grounding himself in obedience.

And then something inside him cracked.

He held her face and kissed. Like he could make her feel everything she used to feel. Like he could brand this into memory before she changed her mind.

It wasn’t tender.

It was ravenous.

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His hands were still the same.

Confident, sure, but not rough. He remembered everything—every place she liked to be stroked, every spot he’d learned to circle slow until she whimpered.

She should hate that he still knew her body this way. That even after everything, his touch could feel so good. Her mind flashed briefly to that yoga studio, to his hands on another woman. She pushed the thought away.

Tonight wasn't about the past. It was about now, it was about Hannah’s desire tonight.

She lay back against the sheets, her breath shallow as his mouth brushed her collarbone, his fingers slipping beneath her shirt, under her bra, spreading over her breast with a reverence that made her feel feverish.

Daniel was shaking.

She could feel it, the tremble of his forearms braced beside her. The slight tremor in his breath.

His mouth closed around her nipple and her spine arched, a gasp escaping her lips. He groaned—deep in his throat—like just that reaction was enough to undo him.

She could feel him hard and hot against her thigh. His cock, already leaking.

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