A real mess.
He still wanted her in his bed, though. But if she kept up the physical torture, he might not make it.
Stone did another round, and she blessedly called to sit back on their mats. Trying not to huff and puff, he took in her glowing face, bright eyes, and blinding aura. At least, he thought it was an aura. He’d been daydreaming when she discussed anger as blurring a person’s aura and fogging their vision, but it was as if a glow followed her, confirming her goodness. In her yoga pants, bare feet, and tiny tank, her muscles and lithe limbs made his mouth water. She was comfortable in her skin, which tempted him as a lover. How rare to meet a woman who seemingly had no body issues. Who wore no makeup, who used no trappings to hide. It was like she’d come to terms with what she had, her limitations and strengths, and accepted them with an open heart.
Ah, crap, now he was starting to think like her. He needed to get a grip.
“Grab some water and let’s come into a circle.”
He hated circle time. Trying not to mope, he took a long swig of water and sat on the godforsaken mat. Why, oh why did she hate real seating? What was this thing about being on the floor all the time? He’d learn better in a chair.
She shot him a mischievous grin when he carefully stretched out his legs and tried not to wince. “You okay, Stone?”
He shot her a warning glare. “Just peachy.”
Minx. If she gave him the chance, he’d tire her in other ways.
“I’d like to do some sharing before we break for the day.”
Oh, goody. His favorite. Sharing.
Eli and Luther sat cross-legged, ready to open themselves up and bleed in the name of healing. Stone tried not to gag.
“Have you been writing in the journals I gave out?” she asked. Back ramrod straight, ankles crossed on opposite knees, thumbs and index fingers touching in circles, she radiated everything beautiful about yoga and peace and harmony. But all he could think of was her beaded nipples against her tank, the heat between her thighs, and the way her hair wrapped around her body in a sensual cloak. He grunted and shifted his position, trying to get his erection down.
Luther nodded. “I write in the morning, as you suggested. I read this book once called The Artist’s Way, and one of the tasks was to keep morning pages. By dumping out all our random thoughts and fears for the day, we’re able to get out of our own way.”
She beamed. “That’s right, Luther. I’m so happy you’re finding the book helpful. There’s so much junk in our day-to-day routine, we block ourselves from connecting with our true center. When the mind is quiet, and we are sitting in our body, it’s like being in church. Or that childhood place you loved so much. It’s everything holy and good. Another reason I call the body a temple. Unfortunately, TV, phones, and computers slam us with so much information, we’re overloaded. This is a way to clean ourselves out. Make sense?”
It did. Not that he was writing in a stupid journal. He had already gotten in trouble for the cartoon he’d sketched out. She’d gotten so mad he’d waited for her to throw him out. But she made a lot of sense. Even after the dreaded yoga routines, he felt more connected to himself and his aches and pains than before. Stone knew he used drinking, smoking, and harsh exercise to try to wipe out the junk. Hadn’t worked half as well as this stuff.
Not that he was an advocate or anything. Still, he’d signed up for that Pilates class even though he was going to take a lot of crap from his coworkers.
“Eli? What do you think?”
The man shrugged. “It was okay. I get a lot of nightmares, so I started writing those down.”
“Can you share one of them with us?”
Another shrug. “I’m trapped on a bridge with all this traffic, and the thing collapses. You know, just like in that Final Destination movie? I’m trying to get out of the car and run, but everyone’s beeping and screaming, and then I wake up.”
She wrinkled her nose. The freckles scattered across her nose were so damn cute, he wanted to kiss them. “That nightmare is directly related to your road rage issues. Did something happen to you before on the road? Something you may have forgotten?”
Eli frowned. “Don’t think so. I mean, I was caught up in a bad traffic jam when one of my friends got in a motorcycle accident. Tried to get to the hospital but didn’t make it in time. That pissed me off. Made me feel guilty.”
Stone felt a twinge of sympathy. That sucked.
Arilyn widened her sea-green eyes. “I’m so sorry. Did you ever think that’s your primary reason for slipping into anger on the road? You could be dredging up the nightmare of not making it to see your friend in time. That’s a very difficult situation to process. Sometimes our emotions and bodies do it for us because the mind can’t accept it yet.”
Recognition flickered over his face, and his jaw tightened. Raw emotion glimmered in his eyes. Ah, hell. Stone had a crazy urge to pat the guy on the shoulder and tell him it was gonna be okay.
“I never put it together,” he said slowly. His hands pushed through his hair. “It makes sense now.”
Arilyn spoke in a soothing voice. “I’d like to meet you after class, Eli. Talk a bit more. This is a big breakthrough for you.”
Stone suddenly didn’t feel sympathetic anymore.
Luther reached over and pounded Eli on the arm. “Really sorry, buddy.”
Eli nodded and ducked his head.
Suddenly, Arilyn’s gaze swung to him. Challenging. As if she’d thrown down the gauntlet and dared him to be more than he pretended. What did she want from him? He was as honest and open as anyone he knew. He certainly wasn’t trying to hide anything.
The scene of the accident flashed before him. He pushed it right back out of his head.
“Stone? How about you? Have you used the journal yet for more than comics?”
He thought of the simple black composition notebook with his name printed neatly on the cover. Just like in school. All those blank lined pages ready for him to spill his thoughts onto.
He decided to keep to the truth. “Not yet.”
“Nothing to share? Or not ready to open yourself up?”
He met her gaze head on and pushed right back. “No time.”
“Understood. Have you had any realizations or thoughts regarding your anger issues this week? Anything we explored that interested you?”
Like what? Sitting with dogs? Breathing on the floor? Writing in a journal? Circle time?
The emotions deep inside stirred, then slowly settled. “Not really,” he finally said.
He refused to deal with the flash of disappointment in her eyes. Who cares? This was a game of chess to get her into bed, not to leave pieces of himself behind.
“Very well. I’m going to ask each of you a question. I want you to respond from the gut. Don’t think about it too hard or try to reach for the right answer. Just tell me the first thing that comes to mind.”
Stone began to sweat. He wouldn’t let her beat him.
“Eli. Give me a memory, any memory, that made you angry.”
“What I just told you. Sitting in traffic, waiting to see my best friend. Hoping he wasn’t going to die while I was stuck there with a bunch of assholes going to work or lunch or having fun.”
“Excellent.” She turned. “Luther. Again, give me one quick memory of when you were angry.”
Luther didn’t hesitate. “When I found out my dad was having an affair with some other woman. I went to the college to visit him, and he was in his office kissing someone else. I wanted to kill him.”
“Very good. Stone? Same question. Give me your memory.”
He paused.
Her voice caught him like a silken whip. “Now. Don’t think. Just talk.”
He opened his mouth and damned if something didn’t come out. “When I walked into the bedroom and found my wife screwing my partner.”