Downward Facing Dreamboat Page 2

  “Whatever you run in will be fine. The big thing is to make sure that things fit closer to the body. We won’t be doing many inversions, but it can be pretty annoying to have your shirt fall over your face in crow or even downward dog.”

  Kincaid’s face was on fire. “Good to know.”

  Owen laid a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. “You’ll never be forced to wear something or do a pose that makes you uncomfortable. Yoga is supposed to be challenging but relaxing. Every class ends with a rest pose and a short meditation.”

  Owen bent his elbows and brought his hands together in front of his heart. It was something that the students in the class Kincaid had taken had done at the end, and he tucked the papers under his arm and mimicked it. He felt silly, but the approving look on Owen’s face made it worth it.

  “The divine light in me recognizes the divine light in you. Namaste.” Owen bowed his head until his fingertips touched his forehead, then released his hands and straightened. “It’s a blessing we exchange before we end our practice. This is where you bow and say namaste.”

  Owen’s joking demeanor was gone, replaced by a solemnity that was intriguing. Kincaid wouldn’t have thought it possible for the man who’d been so fidgety and boisterous a minute ago to be so still and serious, but he was. Kincaid fought a smile and returned the bow. “Namaste.”

  An instant later, Owen was grinning again. He slapped Kincaid on the back. “There you go—your first painless yoga pose.”

  Kincaid heard quiet voices out in the studio and the sound of mats unrolling. Owen glanced up at a clock hanging on the wall and cursed softly.

  “I have an ashtanga vinyasa class that starts in ten minutes. I’d invite you to stay and watch, but it’s an advanced class and I’m afraid it would scare you away.”

  Kincaid didn’t doubt it. “It’s probably best that I don’t.”

  Chapter Two: Tadasana – Mountain Pose

  “SO YOU’RE actually going to take a yoga class?”

  Kincaid’s sister, Natalie, looked identical to their mother when she arched an eyebrow at him. It was creepy.

  “Doctor’s orders.” He studied the menu, looking for something healthy. Between not running and all the pity party food he’d been eating, he’d picked up a few pounds since he hurt his ankle.

  Natalie hummed thoughtfully and turned to her own menu.

  “If I get an omelet, will you trade me half for half your pancakes?” she asked.

  “I’m getting the egg-white scramble,” he said, closing the menu. “Get your own pancakes.”

  Natalie made a face. “Are you on a diet or something?”

  He flushed, and Natalie’s eyes widened in delight as she laughed.

  “No shit, you are? Why? Not to stroke your ego, but you’re in better shape than anyone I know. Why are you suddenly eating egg whites?”

  “I’ve been relying on takeout too much,” he said with a shrug. “Bad habits are easy to form and hard to break. I want to get back on track before I slide even more.”

  She rolled her eyes. “A little takeout never killed anyone.”

  That was patently untrue, given how unhealthy some takeout was. But Kincaid kept quiet. His sister could be a real pain in the ass sometimes, and he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of whatever rant was building. And he definitely wasn’t going to tell her he was self-conscious about those extra pounds because he didn’t want Owen to see him like that. She’d be insufferable.

  “My doctor cleared me for physical therapy,” he said, bringing the subject back to yoga, “and he suggested yoga be incorporated as part of it. I’m going to give it a try, but I’m working one-on-one with a teacher.”

  Natalie snorted. “Yeah, I can’t see you relaxing into a pose in a roomful of soccer moms in designer workout leggings.”

  Kincaid couldn’t see himself relaxing around Owen at all, but that was an entirely different problem. And one he didn’t want to talk about with his sister.

  “There are probably studios that cater to men,” she said. “That might make you more comfortable.”

  “I’m happy with the studio the doctor’s office recommended.”

  “I think it’ll be good for you. And who knows, maybe if you went to a different studio, you’d have a better chance of meeting someone.”

  He’d already met someone. He just didn’t want to make things weird by crushing on his yoga instructor. That would be crossing a line, and Kincaid didn’t want to be that kind of guy.

  He caved to Natalie’s puppy dog eyes when the waitress came to take their order. The smile she gave him when he asked for blueberry pancakes was worth the extra calories.

  “How are Sam and John?”

  Kincaid’s closest friends were also his running buddies. He hadn’t realized that they rarely did anything that didn’t revolve around training until he couldn’t train with them. He’d seen them once in the last few weeks.

  “Good, I guess. They’re doing a marathon in Vancouver next month.”

  He didn’t like the calculating look on Natalie’s face.

  “So they’ve ditched you since you can’t run. I thought it was weird when you asked if I wanted to go to brunch. I should have known I was your third choice,” she teased. “Are you being a hermit? Do you see people outside of work, or are you just holed up in your apartment?”

  He saw Owen every morning, but that wasn’t the answer she was looking for. Besides, admitting to basically stalking the guy wouldn’t help his case that he was a normal, well-adjusted human being.

  “They’re busy,” he said, feeling oddly defensive of his friends. “We’ll hang out soon.”

  “When you can run again,” she said, frowning. “Maybe we should have gone out for drinks tonight instead of brunch. I could be your winglady.”

  Kincaid grimaced. “Please never say winglady again. And I’m not going cruising wearing a walking boot. God.”

  Natalie laughed. “You never know. That could be a real turn-on for someone.”

  “If it is, then they probably aren’t my type.”

  He liked active guys. Someone who could go running with him and who understood that staying in shape was important to him. He spent a lot of his free time running, and he didn’t want to be with someone who would get jealous.

  He was more of a workout and chill than Netflix and chill kind of guy.

  Natalie could be pushy as hell when she dug in on something, so he was relieved when the food came and distracted her. They traded between their plates until Natalie was happy, and Kincaid decided she’d been right about the pancakes. Not that he’d tell her that. She was an annoying know-it-all at the best of times, and admitting she’d been right about something was definitely not Kincaid’s idea of fun.

  “I worry about you, you know?” Natalie said after they’d paid and made their way outside. For once she wasn’t yelling at him to slow down—his boot was a great stride equalizer.

  “I’m healing just fine,” he responded, deliberately misinterpreting her words.

  Kincaid didn’t want to ruin his carb coma with relationship advice from his little sister. His limited circle of friends was a favorite nagging point for Natalie, and this injury had him realizing she wasn’t entirely wrong. But he was focusing all his energy on healing and getting back to running—he could worry about picking up a new hobby later. Hell, maybe yoga would be his new hobby. Owen was certainly a chill guy. Maybe there were other yoga dudes he could hang out with.

  Of course, hanging out wasn’t what he wanted to do with Owen. Though he’d been trying much harder to shut those fantasies down now that he actually knew Owen, and he wasn’t the unfairly flexible dreamboat in the window any longer.

  Natalie pursed her lips but dropped it.

  “This was nice,” she said as they neared the train station to head their separate ways. “We should do it more often.”

  It actually had been pretty nice to spend time with her. He wouldn’t mind meeting up more, and the
beaming smile he got when he told her that lifted his spirits more than the pancakes had.

  Kincaid walked her home before he headed to the gym. Dr. Chester had given him the okay to swim, and he’d taken to it with a vengeance. It was a surprisingly good workout. The upside to his situation was he’d been forced to expand his exercise horizons, and while running would always be his adrenaline drug of choice, Kincaid planned to up his cross-training game and keep some of these other activities once he was healed.

  He felt a little ridiculous changing into the tight spandex swim trunks he’d bought for the pool, but regular trunks had too much drag while he was swimming laps. He wasn’t the fastest one in the pool by a long shot, but Kincaid was competitive enough that when he’d noticed the better swimmers all wore the same kind of swimwear, he’d followed suit. He liked to think it made him faster. It certainly made his trip from the locker room to the pool quicker simply because he didn’t want anyone to see him in them.

  The water was cool, which was a shock at first but would feel good once he really got going. Just like when he ran, his goal was to hit the zen place where all that mattered was the miles he was eating up. He literally outran his problems—and now that he couldn’t, he was trying to outswim them.

  Unfortunately, thoughts of Owen in his equally tight yoga shorts kept creeping into Kincaid’s mind. Not enough to illicit an embarrassing reaction, thanks to the water temperature and the exertion of sluicing through it at a fair pace, but enough that he couldn’t quite get to his mindless place.

  Would yoga be difficult with Owen right there in front of him? Or would Kincaid be so focused on not messing up a pose that he could tune Owen out?

  Doubtful.

  He’d be worried about looking like an idiot and worried about popping a boner in the middle of class.

  Maybe he should practice at home. Natalie was always sending him links to videos of poses she thought would help him—he could ask her for some recommendations about beginner videos to learn the poses. She’d seemed enthusiastic about him joining a studio, so he could probably get her to help him without answering too many questions.

  The man who’d been in the lane next to him left, which meant Kincaid had the pool to himself for the moment. It was a busy place, and the solitude wouldn’t last long, so he took advantage and tried a flip turn when he reached the wall. His injured foot struck the tiled surface and he gasped in pain, taking in a lungful of water that sent him coughing to the surface.

  This was exactly why he needed to practice some yoga moves at home before he started seeing Owen at the studio. Kincaid hated doing things he hadn’t mastered. He always worried people were laughing at him behind his back, which was why he only practiced the flip turns when no one else was in the pool.

  For good reason, he thought grimly as he leaned heavily on the edge of the pool, still coughing. The sharp pain in his foot had subsided to a dull throb, but it was distracting enough he knew he’d never get back up to the pace he’d been at. He hauled himself out of the pool instead and limped toward the towel he’d left on the bench. Today’s workout had been a washout, but he’d do some upper body work on the machines before he headed home so it wouldn’t be a total waste. At least those he knew how to use competently.

  KINCAID PUTTERED around his apartment doing laundry and every small chore he could think of until he was left with the last thing on his list—watch the yoga videos Natalie had sent.

  I found a series with a hot dude as the instructor, thought that might make it more worth your while! she’d written.

  If she only knew. Kincaid snorted and shook his head. If Natalie learned he was crushing on his yoga teacher, she’d probably join the class herself. Though that would certainly be a solution to his worry about his dick coming out to play in the middle of downward dog.

  He unrolled the mat he’d bought back when Natalie insisted he go to classes with her. It was purple with hibiscus flowers on it, but it had been cheap. Maybe he should buy a new one before starting Owen’s classes. No, that would be a waste of money. His machismo could survive a purple yoga mat. It was his aptitude for what happened on the mat that had him worried.

  Kincaid settled on the mat lotus-style since it was the pose the guy in the video was in, then leaned forward and pressed Play.

  The man was good at explaining how to move, and being able to replicate the poses boosted Kincaid’s confidence. It wasn’t a bad workout either. He hadn’t expected to get sweaty, but he’d had to ditch his T-shirt halfway in when it kept sticking to him.

  Natalie hadn’t been wrong—the guy was gorgeous. But his tight shorts and nipple-baring tank top did nothing for Kincaid. He didn’t hold a candle to Owen, even when he sinuously rolled himself into a pose he called cat-cow as part of the cooldown routine.

  Kincaid followed suit, self-conscious about sticking his ass up in the air. Or “lifting your sitz bones toward the ceiling,” as the video yogi said.

  No matter what you called it, it felt ridiculous. And he couldn’t imagine doing this pose in front of Owen. It would feel like presenting his ass to him.

  Kincaid kept his eyes glued on the instructor as the man led him through arching his back and lifting his ass and then sinking his belly toward the floor. He tried to relax into the stretch but that just made things worse. He couldn’t stop thinking about how good it would feel to be on his hands and knees in front of Owen, waiting for a stretch of a different kind.

  Fuck.

  The instructor gracefully brought his body forward into something he called sphinx. Kincaid followed along; his rapidly filling cock twitched as he pressed it against the mat. He gave in to the urge to thrust against it a little, the sensation making him shiver. Christ. He was not going to frot against a yoga mat.

  Kincaid sat back on his heels, watching as the instructor kept going. The video only had five minutes left, so he wouldn’t miss much if he turned it off.

  His dick throbbed again, and he hesitated before running his palm over it. His hips bucked up at the friction, a groan falling from his lips.

  Definitely turning it off. He leaned forward and closed the laptop, cutting the instructor off midsentence. Getting turned on during a yoga video was bad enough, he certainly wasn’t about to masturbate to it.

  Not when he could be thinking about Owen’s body moving through those poses. He gave in to the inevitable and shucked his shorts, leaving him bare-assed naked on the purple hibiscus yoga mat.

  Kincaid knew he shouldn’t be fantasizing about Owen, not now that he was going to have to interact with him on a regular basis. But it wasn’t hurting anyone but him, right? Owen would never know, and Kincaid wouldn’t make a habit of it. This would be the last time.

  He spit into his hand and wrapped it around his dick, imagining it was the tight heat of Owen’s mouth. God, the things he’d like to do to that man. Kincaid’s hand sped up, and he closed his eyes, picturing Owen. He’d seen him in all kinds of poses in the yoga studio, but the sexiest thing he could imagine now was Owen on his knees in front of him on the mat, gaze intent on Kincaid’s face as Kincaid’s cock was heavy against his lips.

  Kincaid curled in on himself as he came, the image still burned into his brain as he thrust into the tight cave of his fist.

  Right. So he wasn’t going to do that again. Last time. From here on out, Owen was off-limits as spank bank material.

  He stood, wiping himself off with his discarded shorts, and looked at the mat. Fuck. Now he’d have to buy a new one, not because it was too girly but because it was part of his fantasy.

  HIS WEEK flew by, probably because of the swimming he did daily. He was sleeping soundly for the first time since his injury. He didn’t sleep well if he wasn’t physically spent, and his involuntary exercise hiatus had given him insomnia. So swimming was definitely a keeper.

  Unfortunately, a great night of sleep meant he was running late for work. Though the run was more like a brisk hobble. He had his first appointment with his physical t
herapist after work, and his stomach was tied up in knots over it. His Thursdays were always jam-packed with meetings, but this had been the first opening the physical therapist had, so he’d taken it. He was regretting that now, especially since he was running late. His narrow window for grabbing dinner before physical therapy was closing.

  “Hey!”

  Kincaid tripped when he heard the husky voice, a stray curse escaping his mouth as he fumbled for his footing. He took a fortifying breath before he gingerly made his way back to the yoga studio door where Owen was standing. He couldn’t seem to stop embarrassing himself in front of this guy.

  Owen was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and the heavy drapes were drawn, blocking the view. The class Kincaid usually saw Owen warming up for was in full swing, and Kincaid looked at his watch, grimacing when he saw it was 8:15 a.m. He was running so late.

  “I’m in the middle of teaching so I won’t keep you, but I hadn’t heard from you, and I wanted to make sure you’d scheduled your PT sessions. You said you were a procrastinator, so I thought you might need a prod.”

  Kincaid looked around Owen through the doorway and saw an entire class stuck in what he thought was downward dog, all of them with their faces turned toward Owen, watching their conversation intently. Kincaid’s cheeks heated, and his skin prickled at being put on the spot in such a public manner.

  “Uh, yeah,” he managed to force out, looking away from the class but not meeting Owen’s gaze. “I’m going in tonight for my first one.”

  Owen clearly didn’t pick up on Kincaid’s discomfort if the bright way he responded was any indication.

  “That’s great, Kincaid!” He reached out and squeezed Kincaid’s shoulder. “I hope it goes well for you and we can get started on your practice soon. Have a great day!”

  Kincaid stood frozen as Owen retreated into the studio. The door swung shut behind him, but not before Kincaid heard him call out instructions to his students to move into a different pose. He watched through the glass-paned door as about twenty people moved in sync, each lifting a leg into the air and bending. Owen took his place at the front of the class, winking at Kincaid before dropping into downward dog and bending his leg like the rest of them. Now that the door was closed, Kincaid couldn’t hear Owen’s voice, but he saw his lips move a moment before Owen’s entire body flipped, contorting until he was in a deep backbend. Half the class followed suit a moment later, the other half staying in the pose Kincaid recognized as three-legged dog from his weekend research binge.