Six
The early-morning light burnished Jase’s skin to a golden brown.
He arched his back and lifted his arms toward the sun, lean muscles elongating as he held a yoga pose that Carey would never in a million years know the name of. Sweat glistened on his bare chest and dampened the waistband of the loose pants he wore.
His breathing came in measured puffs as he flowed from one pose to the next, looking so strong, so beautiful, that Carey’s entire body flushed hot. Leaning against the doorframe, he watched Jase go into a handstand, rock steady, his toes pointed toward the ceiling.
Admiration, desire, and confusion all swirled together, clogging Carey’s throat. He hovered, unmoving, as Jase lowered one leg, then the other, his palms still resting flat on the floor. Rolling over to balance
