“Not bad, but spread your feet a little more,” she says, pushing my feet apart with one of hers before she steps around to my back. “And stand straight.”

She grabs my waist gently as she speaks, rolling my hips into alignment. Every point of contact between her delicate hands and my body feels electric. I focus on my breathing, trying to keep my shit together despite the rush of memories her touch evokes.

“Good,” she says. “Now roll your shoulders.”

I do as I’m told, and Hannah nods approvingly.

“That feels good, honestly,” I admit. “I should do this more often.”

“I’m not surprised. A lot of people carry tension in their shoulders,” she says, moving her hands up to my tense muscles in that area and squeezing them to make her point. “And with the sport you play, that tracks. Try to breathe into it while you roll your shoulders, nice and deep.” She sucks in a deep breath beside me, so I do the same. “Now exhale slowly.”

Our breaths hiss out together as Hannah steps in front of me and gets back into the pose herself. “Good. From here, we’ll move into a forward fold. Watch me first, then I’ll break it down.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” I say, the corner of my mouth lifting, but Hannah pretends not to notice.

She spreads her feet apart evenly and stands straight, then throws her arms out to either side and swings them up and above her head.

She bends over until her hands find the floor, then moves them up to her knees and uses that grip to hold herself at a ninety-degree angle. She arches her back slightly in a stretch, and for a moment, I’m transported back to our night together, to her body arched beneath mine, to her breathless sighs in my ear⁠—

I drag myself back to the present as she slowly stands back up and smiles at the look of bewilderment on my face.

“Think you can handle that, hotshot?” she teases, and for a second, I’m speechless both because of the incredible way her body moves with such control and precision, and because I don’t think I have a prayer of doing the pose half as gracefully as she did.

“I can handle way more than you think.” I smirk at the way the redness on her cheeks intensifies, but she smirks right back at me.

“Then let’s see what you’ve got,” she says and waves at the air in front of me with a challenging glint in her eyes.

I clear my throat and stand up as straight as I can, roll my shoulders a few times, then lift my arms up over my head in the best imitation I can manage.