Resisting Roots (Lotus House Book 1) by Audrey Carlan Read Free Book Online Page A

mood-altering candles, sari fabric tapestries hung from floor to ceiling, and toss pillows were strategically stacked for comfort and ease of assisting with deep relaxation. Peppermint oil misted from the spa diffuser set in one corner, adding to the serenity. I’d placed my best mats down side by side in the center of the space. The goal for this type of session was to make the client feel at home and connect with him on all levels so he’d relax, and become more at peace with the asanas— or poses—and yoga practice as a whole.
    I’d been sitting in lotus pose, hands at heart center, running through a few meditative chants Dara had taught me to center and ground myself before teaching a class. Grounding into the earth, or in this case the yoga mat, was necessary to ensure I didn’t bring in any lingering mumbo jumbo from my day-to-day life as I prepared to offer a spiritual and physical connection of my energy to each of my clients. In this instance, I’d be transferring my healing energy to man candy Trent Fox.
    “Hey, gumdrop,” he said, his enormous muscled body heaving through the space and breaking every ounce of concentration I’d achieved through mediation.
    I opened one eye and watched as he toed off each tennis shoe. He wore a pair of loose black cotton pants, perfectly appropriate for yoga. He lifted up his T-shirt, pulled it off, tossed it on top of his shoes, and faced me with an obscenely sexy, bare chest. I opened both eyes and took in the magnificence that was Trent Fox. He stood before me, looking like the standing version of Auguste Rodin’s The Thinker . He must spend hours in the gym to have a body that toned.
    “Wow,” I whispered, not realizing that I’d said it out loud.
    “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Finally!” He rubbed his hands together. “Was worried you might be into chicks.” He chuckled.
    I frowned. “Whatever would give you that impression?”
    He moved over to the mat and did a hilarious series of twists and turns until he was able to sit down. I snickered but shouldn’t have. His limitations were not funny, but the way he went about dealing with them was.
    He didn’t say anything about my response to his movement but did respond to the question. “Yesterday, I worked the mat like a madman in spring training, and you didn’t even bat an eyelash.”
    A flush of heat spread across my face. “Ah, I see. Your pride got hurt a little?” I grasped his wrists and moved his hands to his heart center. “Hold them here. Allow the energy within your hands to circulate through your chest.”
    His eyebrow quirked, but he did what he was told. “My pride? Nah, just made me wonder if I was wasting my time. Seeing you looking at me like I was the best thing since the invention of the microwave a minute ago put that curiosity to rest.” He smirked.
    I wanted to kiss that smug expression right off his handsome face. My cheeks heated again. “Perhaps you just caught me off guard. It’s not every day a man undresses in front of me.” Total lie.
    Every single day, male clients came to class wearing only pants. T-shirts were restrictive, and it was best for males to be bare-chested. Less restriction made for stronger focus on the practice and less on dangling bits of fabric.
    Chancing a glance at Trent, I noticed he smiled, but didn’t respond with anything other than a hum.
    “Today we’re going to focus on range of motion. I want to see where you are now, catalog it, and determine a routine that will loosen your limbs, give you an overall mental and physical workout, and not put too much strain on the injured hamstring.”
    “Sounds like a plan to me, gumdrop. And I like the red.” He pursed his lips and focused on my mouth.
    It took me a minute to figure out what he was talking about. My attire didn’t have a speck of red. I’d worn a yellow ribbed tank and a pair of yellow-and-black checkered yoga pants. Then it dawned on me. “Oh! The lipstick.” I shrugged.