Resisting Roots (Lotus House Book 1)

by Audrey Carlan

  “Shut up. You say that every day.”

  “How about this? Marry me.”

  She groaned again. “Same answer as yesterday. I need more time.”

  “Time for what? To decide you don’t want to have me in your life?”

  That made her laugh. “Goodness, no. I don’t want our married lives to be about me getting knocked up. Let’s discuss it when he’s born.”

  “He?” A fluttering sensation lit across my skin.

  Genevieve’s smile widened, and she picked up an image and placed it near the camera. It was the image from yesterday’s ultrasound. I hated that I hadn’t been there for that, but I’d thought we were going to wait to find out the sex until we could both be there. I touched the screen, tracing the shape of my child’s face and head. Then she lifted another picture.

  “It was supposed to be a surprise, but this picture was a spread-eagle shot. When I asked what that little blob was between the legs, the tech laughed and said it was the baby’s penis and testicles. She didn’t realize she’d blown the surprise, but really, it was my fault. I’m sorry. Are you mad?” Her smile immediately turned into a frown.

  I shook my head. “Mad that I’m going to have a son? Hell, no. I’m fucking stoked. This is the best day of my life. I’m going to have a son…” I leaned on the table, staring at the beautiful woman who had given me more than I ever thought I’d want in life.

  I was finally settled. Soon we’d have our baby boy, William Richard Fox—William after her dad and Richard after mine. Then I’d convince her to be my wife, and life would be perfect.

  “No longer feeling the need to resist those roots? Still seeing the Muladhara chakra red tones when you close your eyes and meditate like I taught you?” She winked, lifted her hand, and propped her head in her palm.

  “Absolutely. We’re digging in, Genevieve. From here on out, I’m home, secure in the fact that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. With you and our son. I’ve laid down my roots, and they are there to stay.”

  The End.

  Want more of the Lotus House clan?

  Continue on with Amber St. James

  and Dash Alexander’s story in…

  Sacred Serenity,

  Book Two in the Lotus House Series.

  Excerpt from Sacred Serenity - A Lotus House Novel (Book #2)

  I grinned at the sinfully sexy brunette as I stood there silently, arms crossed over my chest. She said I was beautiful. Interesting.

  I’d seen Genevieve’s best friend roaming around Lotus House. Watched her in action, taking the classes here. Her body was long and lean, perfect for the more complex asanas—or yoga poses as the Westerners said.

  While I stood there quietly, her green eyes shone like emeralds. The catlike shape added to her allure. But that wasn’t what made my knees quake. It was the thick, long dark chestnut-brown hair. She wore it plainly, straight and parted down the middle, the length covering her ample breasts. The best part was the natural hue that glinted off it in the sunlight streaming in from an open window Genevieve had yet to close before class. My guess was it wasn’t dyed either. It had never changed color in the two years I’d caught a visual of her. What I wouldn’t give to bind it in a fist and wrap it around my wrist, tugging it softly back as I feasted on her exposed neck.

  She kept her look simple, yet she had an earthiness that called to the deepest part of a man. The instinct to hold and protect this woman was a powerful aphrodisiac. Those feelings plowing to the surface were rare for me, but I’d learned long ago through my Tantric practice not to deny or hide how I reacted to those around me. In this case, a desire born of aesthetics wasn’t the only thing sending a flushed excitement through my veins. It was her energy. The magnetic field around her sizzled and threaded with mine in the most sensual of caresses. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and keep her close, bathe in her true spirit.

  My cock thickened and stirred, awakening after a too long repose. I let my hands drop into a clasped ease in front of my groin. No need to scare off the little bird. As it was, her form fluttered as she covered under the weight of my appreciative gaze, readying to fly away. I wanted her to do the opposite. Respond to me instead, the way a proud peacock would, opening its feathers, fanning them out for premium viewing. I wanted to set my gaze upon not only her bare body, but her unhindered soul.

  Though the woman stood tall, at least five-foot-ten, her shoulders curved in within my presence, as though she were silently submitting to me, or worse, afraid. I held out my hand and plastered a calming smile over my features.

  “Dash Alexander. I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced.”

  She looked at my hand, and as if readying for battle, straightened her shoulders, firmed her spine, and clasped my hand in a steady grip. Grinning, I yanked on her hand and caught her off guard, which was my intent. When she bumbled into my chest, I wrapped a hand around her waist, kissed one cheek quickly, and then the other, though I couldn’t help allowing my lips to softly skim along her silky skin to her temple, where I laid another soft press of lips. She gasped, and that soft intake of air, the tightening of her fingers at my pecs spoke wonders to my senses.

  This scared little bird wanted me. She didn’t just think I was handsome. No, her attraction sparkled along her body like a fine gossamer mist. The scent of strawberries entered my nose and weaved around my senses. I squeezed her body to me in the smallest of embraces before grudgingly stepping back, putting a more appropriate distance between us.

  Her eyes seemed glassy and unfocused when I let her go.

  She shook her head and blinked several times. “Amber…Amber St. James.”

  I smiled and cupped her cheek. She leaned into it. A swell of male pride rushed through my chest. I caressed the high cheekbone with my thumb, appreciating the blush that pinked them. Her face was free of makeup, just the way I preferred a woman. Raw beauty.

  “Happy to meet you, Amber.”

  For a few moments we stared at one another, our bodies’ energy reaching for one another in a cosmic way I was used to experiencing in my classes, but not privately.

  “Dash, glad you’re here.” Genevieve interrupted our eye-fucking of one another. “Amber is in medical school and needs to learn all she can about the practice of Tantric sex for her Human Sexualities coursework. As our resident guru, I thought you could help her out.”

  I cast my gaze to Genevieve. She pouted and put her hand up over her rounded belly, reminding me of the debacle I’d caused between her and her mate half a year ago. Payback could sometimes be a pain in the neck. Then an idea formed. An absolutely brilliant one, and not only would it help Amber with her schoolwork, it would solve a major issue for me.

  I stared at Amber and looked over to Genevieve. Her hands came up to her chest in a prayer pose at heart center, only this was no prayer. She was downright begging. Her lips moved in a “Please, please, please” silent request.

  “All right. On one condition.”

  Amber’s green gaze brightened, her lips tipping up into a shy smile. “Name it.”

  Her voice was filled to the brim with gratitude, and I loved it. In fact, I wanted far more of it and looked forward to the time where I’d feel it surrounding me in a far more primitive and primal connection.

  Flashes of her in myriad tantric sexual poses zipped across my subconscious. Her in Yap Yum position where she would sit in my lap, face to face with me until I’d tip her head back, allowing all that hair to dangle and tickle my thighs. I’d worship her breasts, plucking them into tight little berries. Our sacral and root chakras would meld in perfect alignment as I plunged into her, awakening the lioness hiding under the lambswool she wore.

  “How better to observe the class than through participating?”

  Two simultaneous gasps rang through the cavernous room until Genevieve spoke.

  “Dash…there’s probably something you should know about…”

  “In what manner are you suggesting I participate exactl
y?” Amber squinted and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Classic defensive pose. I hadn’t expected that. A woman who just admitted to being attracted to me and responded instantly when in my arms didn’t seem altogether eager to physically bond. Perhaps she had a significant other? A trail of prickling heat built at my chest and expanded out.

  Jealousy. Now that was a new one for me. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d been jealous, especially of a woman I didn’t even know or a partner of hers that may or may not exist.

  I lowered my voice so as to not sound too forceful or demanding. “My assistant bailed again. It seems I can’t keep a single one for more than an eight week session,”

  Amber pinched her brows together. “Is that how long a normal couples course is? Eight weeks?”

  I nodded. “Yes, though some like to repeat it and work in detail on specific sections of the workshops.”

  “Would I have to assist you naked?”

  I found it impossible not to laugh. So much so that both Genevieve and I burst out into raucous laughter at the delicate woman before us. She was beyond the pale. Her innocence positively leaked from every pore.

  “Hardly, though I definitely wouldn’t deny that the concept appeals to me…greatly.”

  Acknowledgments

  To Debbie Wolski, my yoga guru, for teaching me everything I know about the art of yoga. I can only dream that this book will help give my readers a positive connection to the practice so that they seek out their own experience. Thank you for always opening your doors and inviting me into your world. I adore you.

  To my husband, Eric, for sticking by my side through fifteen months of yoga instructor school, months of lost weekends writing and learning more about my connection to the beauty that is yoga, and loving this new facet of me as you have for the last nineteen years. I feel like every day I love you more than I did the day before and go to bed with the knowledge that I will again awake with even more love filling my life.

  To my editor Ekatarina Sayanova with Red Quill Editing, LLC…you understand me and my characters almost as much as I do. Every edit you help to bring a new piece of my writing alive I didn’t know I had. Thank you for making me sparkle.

  Helen Hardt, thank you for teaching me about expletive construction and how to make my sentences stronger without them.

  To my extraordinarily talented personal assistant, Heather White (aka PA Goddess), you help keep me focused and centered on what’s important in life. That, my lovely, is priceless.

  Jeananna Goodall, Ginelle Blanch, Anita Shofner—Thank you for being incredible betas but more than that, even better friends.

  Gotta thank my super awesome, fantabulous publisher, Waterhouse Press. Thank you for being the non-traditional traditional publisher!

  To the Audrey Carlan Street Team of wicked hot Angels—together we change the world. One book at a time. BESOS-4-LIFE lovely ladies.

  Also by Audrey Carlan

  The Falling Series

  Angel Falling

  London Falling

  Justice Falling

  * * *

  The Trinity Trilogy

  Body (Book 1)

  Mind (Book 2)

  Soul (Book 3)

  * * *

  The Calendar Girl Series

  January (Book 1)

  February (Book 2)

  March (Book 3)

  April (Book 4)

  May (Book 5)

  June (Book 6)

  July (Book 7)

  August (Book 8)

  September (Book 9)

  October (Book 10)

  November (Book 11)

  December (Book 12)

  Calendar Girl: Volume One (January–March)

  Calendar Girl: Volume Two (April–June)

  Calendar Girl: Volume Three (July–September)

  Calendar Girl: Volume Four (October–December)

  * * *

  The Lotus House Series

  Resisting Roots (Coming Soon)

  Sacred Serenity (Coming Soon)

  About Audrey Carlan

  Audrey Carlan is a #1 New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author. She writes wicked hot love stories that are designed to give the reader a romantic experience that's sexy, sweet, and so hot your e-reader might melt. Some of her works include the wildly successful Calendar Girl Serial, Falling Series, and the Trinity Trilogy.

  She lives in the California Valley where she enjoys her two children and the love of her life. When she's not writing, you can find her teaching yoga, sipping wine with her "soul sisters," or with her nose stuck in a wicked hot romance novel.

  Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated and feeds the soul. You can contact Audrey or her personal assistant Heather White below:

  Email: carlan.audrey@gmail.com

  Personal Assistant: audrey.carlanpa@gmail.com

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/AudreyCarlan

  Website: www.audreycarlan.com

  Twitter: @AudreyCarlan

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