Page 130 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
He stared at her wide-eyed.
She made the word erection sound hot.
“What’s a shakti? Is it a type of sex toy?” he asked, trying to sound sophisticated, but that damn puberty voice struck again.
She chuckled. “No, shakti isn’t a sex toy. Think of it as my womanly vitality.”
“Huh?” He chewed on that for a second. At least he could comply. Pretty soon, he wouldn’t be able to think of anything other than her womanly vitality—especially with her in his lap nearly naked. “Right-o, womanly energy,” he answered with a British accent worse than Phoebe Gale. And he was an actual Brit, who’d been talking this way for his entire life. He cleared his throat, going back to the gravelly tone. “I understand.”
Get ahold of yourself, man.
“This is the yab yum position,” she explained.
He cocked his head to the side. He’d need a pad and a pen to keep up with the terminology. “Yab yum?”
“Yes.”
“Are you making this up like you did with Pun-chi yoga? Yab yum sounds like bubble gum or a type of candy floss.”
She giggled, and the sound, along with the majority of his blood supply, went right to his cock.
“This isn’t candy, Raz. These methods have been around for thousands of years. Are you ready to begin?”
He shifted slightly, relaxing as best as a man could while sporting a giant hard-on. “I think so.”
“Today, when I touched your chest, I didn’t press my palm to your heart. I pressed my wrist—my pulse point. I was nervous at the time. My heart was racing, too. But I had a feeling yours was skyrocketing.”
“It was. I thought I might pass out,” he answered. It wasn’t like him to be vulnerable. It wasn’t in the persona of a fighter. But with Libby, vulnerability didn’t feel like a weakness. With her, it was a strength.
She nodded. “My sort-of-steady heartbeat spoke to yours. It sent a message, asking your heart to mirror mine and slow down. I suspect the breath work also helped. If this ever happens again and you’re alone and feel like you’re losing control, lead with your breath, and your heart will follow.”
Lead with your breath, and your heart will follow.
Again, had he not lived through today, he would have discarded her spiritual mumbo jumbo as utter bullshit. “My body got your message. I felt the change instantly.”
She grinned. “I know. I felt it, too.”
He gazed into her amber eyes. “What happens now?”
She moved in closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. “We press our hearts together and align our breathing.”
That boner was going nowhere.
“What should I do with my hands?”
“Rest them wherever it feels natural.”
Without giving it a second thought, he gripped the globes of her arse, then dropped his hands. “Sorry, that just…happened.”
She tightened her grip on him. “Put them back. Nothing is wrong or off-limits,” she whispered into his ear.
It was as if the room were closing in on them, but not in a terrifying way. This closeness mimicked a cocoon, a safe harbor.
He returned his hands to her taut arse, and she rocked her hips.
He might have that boner for the next twenty years.
He inhaled a tight breath as her tiny shorts slid up, revealing her bare arse and—
