Page 144 of The Yoga Teacher

He gripped tighter, pumping hard, hips twitching, his jaw clenched as if that could hold something in—something monstrous, pathetic, helpless. His mind flooded with images: Hannah’s thighs over his shoulders. His fingers in her hair. The way she whisperedfuck, Daniellike she meant it.

He remembered how wet she’d been for him. How easily she took him, how she opened for him even after months of hating him. And worse—how shelet him touch her,like she hadn’t sworn she was done.

He moaned low, sharp, jerking his hips up into his fist as the tension coiled hot in his spine.

She’d felt so fucking good.

She’d smelled like lavender and sweat and somethinghis, somethingbefore, something he’d been stupid enough to think he could ever deserve again.

He came with a rough, strangled breath, head bowed, hand slick, chest heaving.

It didn’t help.

It didn’t clear anything.

The ache stayed. Gnawed.

Daniel collapsed back against the bed, forearm over his eyes, stomach tight, guilt thick in his throat.

He should be grateful for the time she gave him. For the hour she let him pretend they still fit.

Instead, he was hard again.

And already missing her like he’d lost her twice.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Hannah

THE BARBELL PRESSED heavy across Hannah’s shoulders, and that was the point. The weight, the repetition—it didn’t lie. No sweet talk. No manipulation. Just you and gravity and whether you could hold your own.

She dropped into a squat, heels rooted, spine tall. Inhale. Down. Pause. Exhale. Drive back up.

It had been about reclaiming her body at first—proof she was still in it. Still strong. Still here.

But somewhere along the way, it had shifted.

It wasn’t about rage anymore. Or escape.

It was about discipline. Focus. Staying.

She racked the barbell, heart thudding steady in her chest. Rolled her shoulders. Reached for her water bottle and let herself rest against the mirror.

Her thighs still ached. Not just from training.

Daniel.

The echo of him still lived in her skin—his mouth, his hands, the way his voice had cracked when he came too fast, too undone by her.

She’d told herself it was just about sex. Just a choice. Just control.

But her body hadn’t gotten the memo. Itremembered.

She caught her own reflection. No makeup. Hair tied back. Tank top damp at the collar. Her arms looked strong. Her back straighter. Not just from the lifts—but from the life she was rebuilding, rep by rep.

Daniel hadn’t broken her.

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