Jennifer Probst - The Tantric Principle

“Grant, no.”

“Grant, yes.”

His mouth took hers again and she fell under his spell, reaching for his erection, wanting to feel him inside of her, completing her. She bit his lower lip in rebellion, and he caught her tongue and pulled her in, his musky scent of lemon and soap and male hunger swamping her senses.

He ripped down his pants and allowed her one moment to breathe. She clung to the moment with the fierceness of survival and pushed him back hard.

Grant stumbled. His brows lowered in a warning frown. “Don’t.”

“No, you don’t! “

“What’s going on here? This is what you want, right? I’m willing to take the hit with my students because of my feelings for you. I don’t want to hide, I don’t want to make excuses anymore, and I want to be with you. Why are we stopping?”

“You’re angry with me.”

He muttered something under his breath. “No, I’m frustrated and I want you. Come here.”

“No, you’re angry with me, Grant. Goddamnit. Why are you angry with me?”

“Because you’re leaving!”

Silence descended.

His breath came out slightly ragged. His announcement rang with finality between them.

Her eyes widened as she watched the truth suddenly evident in his face. He loved her. He may not have said the words, but he wanted her to stay. The road forked before her. She knew what path to take. The only path available. Move to Chicago and one day she’d find someone else. Someone who was a forgery for the man who’d complete her soul.

This was the last step in her master plan for her future. She must take the promotion. If she turned away this career opportunity, she turned her back on everything she always wanted and believed in. Everything that defined her and everything she fought so hard to have, even at her parent’s expense.

The conversation with Tim flashed in her mind. She opened her mouth and said the words. “Ask me to stay.”

Shock gleamed in dark eyes as he stared at her. Arianna suddenly knew the truth. She wanted to stay. She wanted to take a chance with him and build a life together. All she needed was a sign. A sign he would try. Arianna realized in that moment she was not making a sacrifice for Grant Madison. She would never wonder what could be, because this was her moment, and her decision. She wanted to make a choice for herself.

“Arianna.” Her name was a broken whisper in the quiet of the room. She closed the distance between them and reached for him. Dragged his head downward, her mouth on his, giving herself in sweet abandon without any apology. She let him take it all, the open vulnerability and the evident feelings she had.

She was in love with Grant Madison.

His lips molded to hers, his musky taste swept through her in a familiar welcome she didn’t want to live without. She drank deeply from his mouth, then slowly broke away. His forehead rested against hers, his large hands cupping her cheeks as they both caught their breath.

She gave the rest to him freely.

“I love you. I don’t want to move to Chicago and take this promotion. I want to stay and give us a shot. But I don’t know how you feel.” She paused and lifted her chin, meeting his gaze dead on. Her voice dropped. “Ask me stay, Grant.”

Grant looked at the woman before him and felt the rest of his heart shatter. With the gutsy determination that was part of her soul, Arianna Devlin wanted to give him a chance. Her presence literally humbled him and forced him to his knees. She would give up an opportunity of a lifetime, for everything she had worked for, because she loved him. And she did it with the clarity of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and went after it with no apology.

God, he loved her.

He knew he’d never find another woman to be his soul mate. She was the one. He saw a flash of their future, working in the studio, buying a house, having babies. She’d get new accounts because she was an energy force that G&B would never be able to hold back. They’d build a life together. He’d have someone to share his thoughts and feelings and daily crappy routines, who’d love him despite his faults. Arianna would be that mate for him, the one he’d waited for.

If he asked her to stay.

She waited, patiently, for his answer. Her determined expression barely covered the vulnerability within sea green depths, flickering at the surface. He needed to meet her halfway.

And he knew in his soul he wanted her to stay.

He opened his mouth to say the words.

“I can’t.” He took a step back. Feeling slowly ravaged, he half turned to prevent a moan from escaping his lips at the physical pain the words cost him. “I can’t ask you to stay, baby.

This is your time. I won’t ever be able to move forward, knowing you may regret it if we don’t work out. Wondering if you regretted choosing me over something you’ve worked your whole life toward. I won’t make you choose.”

She didn’t respond. Grant sucked in a breath and looked at her. She stood completely still, her face heartbreakingly fragile and feminine under the studio lights. Wine red strands curved under the soft line of her cheek and set off her full lips. Dark brows remained smooth as she seemed to analyze and accept her decision.

“I understand.” She turned from him and settled her hand on the doorknob. Her voice held undertones of a deep sadness that almost made him change his mind. “You said I allowed you to make all the choices in this relationship, and you’re right. I waited for the rules to be set. I waited for you to realize you had feelings for me. But this is my choice. I want to stay for me, and for us. I hope you don’t sleep better at night thinking you did the right or manly thing.

Because you didn’t.” She opened the door. “You chose to be alone,” she said. Then she walked out.

* * *

Arianna put down the phone and glanced at her red luggage. Almost ready. The initial trip to Chicago scheduled for the weekend would give her the opportunity to meet the new marketing team and see her office. She also needed to make arrangements to view her new apartment, which G&B provided. The Windy City beckoned.

She smiled at the thought and poured herself a glass of Cabernet. Swirling the rich, ruby liquid, she padded barefoot to the couch and settled herself into the plush crème cushions, letting her thoughts wander.

Her mom and dad had seemed happy about the promotion. They’d never understand her ambition and drive, but they’d stopped begging her to move back, make a life with the neighbor down the street and raise corn. In a way, she missed having a sibling to talk to, or at least throw up to her parents in sacrifice. Being the only child was too much pressure. She always felt she failed them in some way.

Arianna fought back a sigh and took a sip, enjoying the deep stillness in the room. She might not have a view of Manhattan, but her Westchester apartment offered a relatively painless commute and more space for the buck. Her apartment was double the size, and would easily fit her California king size bed, one of the luxuries she always demanded in her living quarters.

Grant had laughingly agreed her pampering was well deserved when it came to the mattress. They tested out the theory many times.

Grant.

The sharp pain still caught her by surprise. It should have been dulled a bit by now, but two weeks had passed since their last encounter, and she still felt like she moved through the day chained underwater. Funny, it was almost as if her body and mind grieved the loss of an appendage. The few short months she had spent with Grant had changed her. She only hoped she found her way back to somewhat of her old self if she wanted to make it in Chicago.

The memory of their final good-bye shimmered before her closed eyes. After she left, she waited for him to come after her. Call. Change his mind.

But he never did. She stopped going to class and received a full refund check from him in the mail a few days later with a note. I’m so sorry. She’d crumbled it to a thousand pieces, stomped on it, then cried.

Over and over, she dissected their conversation and always came up with the same conclusion. He didn’t love her the way she loved him. If he did, he would’ve never let her leave.

He would have… The thought trailed off as recognition grabbed and shook hard.

He wouldn’t let her love him.

The simplicity struck and left her breathless.

From the moment they met, Grant controlled both the classroom and the bedroom. She felt as if he let her see a hidden part of him in their intimacy, but now she realized he’d never let himself lose control. He rarely came inside of her. He never exploded in orgasm without planning her pleasure first. He used tantra to stay in power. With great sex and love, came great vulnerability. By controlling her orgasms and holding back his own, he remained safe.

In his mind, he couldn’t give her the option of loving him or making the choice. By allowing her to choose him, he set himself up for failure, failure in both the relationship and in his school. So he didn’t allow her to choose him. That way, he remained safely distant and made himself feel better by pretending he let her go for her own good, because he loved her secretly, silently. It wasn’t a sacrifice at all.

It was a cop out.

He was scared shitless. He just hid it better than normal people without all of their strict training and practices.

Arianna stood and paced the room, wineglass in hand, while she thought. What if he did love her as much as she did him? What if he wanted a life with her, but couldn’t get past his defense barriers and allow her to make a choice to love him?

What if she didn’t give any more choices?

The plan formed. She drank her wine and went over the details. Her move to Chicago was going to happen. The deal was complete and her team in place. She couldn’t turn back now.

But before she closed the door, she needed to show Grant Madison an important lesson about tantra he’d never forget. Arianna set the wineglass down and went back into the bedroom to dress.

Grant sat in his living room. He had a good brood going, and the music playing in the background only added to his mood. Frank Sinatra sang about being stupid and saying I love you. He raised his glass of vodka on the rocks and gave Old Blue Eyes a toast. The singer had lost his lady loves one at a time yet still lived to a ripe old age. Grant knew he was done. Arianna Devlin had ruined him for any other woman. The ones to come after her would only be plagiarized versions of a brilliant Picasso or gleaming diamond. Just dogs playing poker or paste.

The thought almost made a strangled laugh rise to his lips. Almost. He sipped his vodka and wondered what the hell was going on. He’d had break ups before. When his wife left, it took a while to get back his stride, but he’d never missed his morning meditations or practices. He was going on day three without meditating. He’d given evening class to his assistant because he couldn’t bear the thought of watching the door and waiting for Arianna to arrive.

He missed her throaty laugh and dirty truck driver language. He missed her wicked grins and hearty appetite and constantly beeping smart phone. He missed her energy and her passion.

He was so screwed.

The ice clanked against the heavy cut glass as he drained his drink. It was done. She’d move to Chicago and he needed to keep living his life. His school was his mainstay and spirit.

He needed to get his head out of his ass and concentrate on making the program better.

Tomorrow, he’d begin meditation again and commit fully to his practice. Maybe a juice fast would help cleanse both his body and his mind. He got up from the couch and went to bed.

* * *

The noise put him on full alert.

Grant sat up in bed, his gaze narrowing in on the doorway. The apartment seemed quiet, but something was off. Something had wakened him. His senses sharpened, and his ears strained for a sound of an intruder. Nothing. Yet, the room smelled differently. A lingering scent of Arianna filled the air, probably from his dreams. Mingled vanilla and spicy musk that drenched her skin and made his senses weep.

He shook off the thought and the urge to turn on the light. Only a dream. He settled back on the pillow.

Then saw her.

She stood in the doorway of his bedroom, silent as a ghost. The moonlight trickling through his window threw her into sharp silhouette. His breath literally choked in his throat, as if a hammer had swung and struck his chest.