She just adjusted the top of her tank to pull it down and reveal another two inches of cleavage.

Fucking hussy.

“All right everyone, let’s get started,” I say as I look into the mirror at my class. The tight feeling in my chest uncurls a little as Ryker gives Melissa a polite smile and then turns to face me.

Most of these people have been taking this yoga class from me for months. It’s the only real thing I do outside of the Cold Fury and I enjoy it immensely. I have several athletes in this class as well as a few older people who want to maintain their strength and flexibility. And then there are those like Melissa who just want to keep up a fantastic-looking body, which hey…seriously, more power to her.

Because everyone knows me and what I do for a living, I go ahead and take a moment to introduce Ryker. Everyone in here is a Cold Fury fan and he really needs no introduction, but I want him to feel welcome and also secure in this room that no one will treat him differently because of his fame.

Except for maybe Melissa, who keeps leaning her body over toward his and whispering little tidbits that make him smile, and once laugh.

Ugh.

The best way to nip that in the bud is to start, and that is exactly what I do. I lead them through some centering work, having them focus on their breathing. Easy stuff really, and as I see him in the mirror, Ryker follows right along as he watches me. I never really thought of yoga as a sexy sort of exercise, but watching the muscles in his legs contract and release is pretty hot stuff. And why do I find myself arching my back a little deeper or sticking my ass out a little bit more?

I groan internally.

I have the hots for Ryker Evans, no two ways about it.

But I can’t have the hots for him. He’s my employee for God’s sake.

I move the group into Big Toe pose, which is essentially where you keep your feet together, legs straight, and bend your body reaching for the floor. This gives me an upside-down glimpse of Ryker, and this may be his first class, but he’s mastering this pose well.

“Let’s move into the Extended Triangle pose,” I say in my calm, gentle yoga voice. I watch in the mirror as Ryker mimics my movements, my eyes dropping only briefly when his T-shirt rides up as he leans to the side.

Ryker is doing very well. So well, in fact, that Melissa has no business breaking her own pose and moving over to Ryker to “help” him out. The minute her hand goes to one of his shoulders to encourage a deeper lean, I break my own pose and turn to them.

“I’ll help him with that, Melissa,” I say, as I round them both and come up behind Ryker. “Why don’t you go to the front and lead us through the rest of the poses while I make sure his form is proper.”

Melissa’s eyes flash with annoyance, but she does as I ask. She’s actually very good at this and I’ve had her lead the class before when I was out of town. As she walks to the front of the room, I have to give Ryker credit. He’s not watching her, but has his head turned to me, pulling his body up straight again. “How am I doing, Big Bang?”

I ignore the question and weird nickname, giving him a tight smile while I place my hands on his hips. The warmth of his body through the waistband of his athletic shorts feels really good against my palms. Standing this close to him, I notice he smells really good too. Like eucalyptus and maybe peppermint. Squeezing slightly to bring his focus to my instructions, I tell him, “Make sure you stay centered here…in your hips.”

“Centered. Got it.”

“Slide your left leg out,” I tell him as I give him a nudge on his calf with my bare foot.

And oh my God…totally inappropriate.

I can’t see his face from where I stand behind him, but I can actually feel amusement vibrating off his body. His leg slides out as directed, and he points his toes outward properly and without my instruction. I lean to the side and look in the mirror, finding him watching Melissa as a guide.

I move my left hand up his ribs, which is totally unnecessary on my part, to his back, where I feel his muscles twitch, and finally to his shoulder. “Now gently, start your lean bringing your left hand down and pointing your right arm up. The goal is to grasp your ankle but go as far as you can.”

Ryker takes that as a challenge because he gives a tiny snort and, not really to my surprise because he is a goalie after all, manages to lean all the way over and grab his ankle.

I stay with Ryker for the rest of the class as Melissa leads us from the front of the room. He doesn’t really need my help, but I give it to him anyway. Finally, somewhere between the Noose pose and the Standing Split pose, I stop berating myself for touching him. Instead, I just give in to it and feel him up under the guise of a concerned yoga instructor. I think I’m being pretty surreptitious too, but as I step around to his front to help him get into Warrior pose, I make the mistake of looking up to his face. I’m tall for a woman, topping in at five nine, but I still have to crane my neck a bit, and the breath is knocked out of my lungs when I see him looking down at me. His eyes are turbulent, swirling with intensity. It borders on a glare, but not quite. His jaw is clenched and he in no way looks relaxed.

Ryker is a man on edge about something.

And it hits me all at once…my touch was affecting him.

Apparently as much as it was affecting me.

I immediately falter, my entire ego deflating into a flat, blobby mess. Rather than suffuse me with a feeling of power, the emotional magnitude in his eyes causes me to doubt everything I’ve ever known about myself. Ryker emanates such command in that look that I become absolutely unsure of myself.