A/N: This chapter is for you @PoisedPen - because sometimes kind words are all it takes to change someone's entire day.

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I am sitting crossed legged on a towel in the middle of the lawn.  This seemed like a good idea when Harry suggested it an hour ago but now I am not so sure because he is omming!

It all started at breakfast.  I was greeted with a bear hug so enveloping, I could barely breathe as he folded himself tightly around me.  This was followed by a deeply sensual lips-locked kiss with which he serenaded me around the kitchen before coming to an abrupt halt when he squashed me up against the fridge door and practically ravished my entire body with his roaming hands. 

After having his wickedly enticing fumbling session with me, he composed himself and placed in my hand a large glass of snot coloured concoction that looked nothing short of revolting.  He animatedly explained that it was my lovingly grown kale that he had blended into a 'Hazza Special' smoothie with the addition of cucumber and pineapple. 

As he swigged down large gulps from his glass, he assured me it tasted better than it looked and it would invigorate my day because kale is a power food full of vitamins C, A and K.  As I attempted to swallow the gloopy goo, he apologised profusely in an 'I am really aggitated about this' way for the lumps but said the blender didn't achieve as smooth a consistency as a Nutribullet.  My immediate thought was that the name was more suited to one of the vibrators that Olive keeps in her underwear drawer but reserved that detail for myself!  In all fairness and despite its thickness, the drink was fairly tasty and I felt, albeit only psychologically, very healthy for having drunk it. 

Over muesli, banana, almonds and Greek yoghurt with honey, we chatted about health and fitness.  I confessed that apart from running and the occasional Pilates class , I didn't partake of much exercise because the strenuous work that is gardening kept me pretty fit. 

He admitted that exercise was vital for him, especially when trying to keep up with a gruelling tour schedule.  He described an impressive regime for cardiovascular with running, spinning and boxing.  The boxing and weights also helped with his body strength, stress reduction and muscle building.  Thoroughly enjoying the definition of his arm muscles on show this morning courtesy of a black vest and drooling inside about the thought of his abs hiding underneath said vest, I had a tendency to agree wholeheartedly!

He described in fond detail his run up Table Mountain in South Africa whilst on tour the previous year.  He was proud that he had completed it in a record time and gushed over the breathtaking scenery, not to mention getting naked when he reached the top.  For a few moments, he looked like a little boy lost in his thoughts at recalling his memories.  All the time I sat very still, admirably observing him in awe as he carried me along on his journey of reminiscence. 

He had also set himself another goal; to possibly run the London or New York marathon the following year.  I had previously run two half marathons to raise funds for the local children's hospice and testified that the hard work and dedication required in training more than paid for itself over and over when crossing the finishing line.  The elation compared to nothing like I had felt before and the most satisfying aspect was the funds raised for charity. 

I could tell from our chat that when he put his mind to something that failure was never an option.

Admitting he suffered from a bad back because he has one leg longer than the other, he pulled a face as he explained the doctor had recommended he do ballet.  He simply couldn't face the obvious teasing that would inevitably occur from every corner of his life so chose yoga instead.  He had been practicing it, Pilates and meditation for the last few years as a means to relax his body and mind.  He extolled the virtues about how prolific their effects were for him that he never went more than a few days without doing at least one.  He loved the ease of being able to do them anytime and anywhere – home, park, plane, studio, dressing room, beach – to name but a few.

His enthusiasm caught my interest and intrigue.  I had never tried yoga and that's when he suggested that as the weather was so glorious today that we do some on the lawn. 

So here I am, facing a chanting him.  We are at the very start of my first yoga experience, sitting opposite each other with our eyes closed.  Evidently the idea is that we focus our minds and get in touch with our breathing.  That was all going swimmingly well until he started omming. 

His instruction to keep my eyes shut and let my whole body relax is being hampered by the thought that he most probably looks delectable chanting.  Unable to resist, I take the peekiest of peeks out of my right eye and am presented with a captivatingly glorious Harry sat so completely zoned out, he looks like a serene God. 

However, his omming is another matter and I can't help the snort that escapes my mouth.  It interrupts his flow and his eyes spring open as mine slam shut but he catches me. 

"Something funny?"  Judging by his pensive tone it is apparent he does not see the amusing side.

"No, definitely not."  I quickly reply trying to keep a straight face by sucking my cheeks into my mouth.

He raises a questioning brow.  "If you don't take it seriously Lily it won't produce any benefits for you." 

He reminds me so much of my old primary school teacher, all commanding and controlling.  I have well and truly been told off.  "Sorry, I am taking it seriously."  I offer sincerely. 

"Right, let's start again.  Close your eyes, relax your hands and your shoulders and breath in and breath out slowly, really connect with your breaths.  "Ommmmmm."

I run with it for a short time but honestly, this is doing absolutely nothing to calm me.  I bite my top teeth over my bottom lip trying to stifle my sniggers as my shoulders begin to uncontrollably shake.  My face is beet red from holding my breath until suddenly I can no longer hold it in and a guffaw bursts out of my mouth. 

I flick my eyes open to see Harry staring at me intently, a now deeper frown pulled low across both of his brows.  "This is hopeless, I thought you wanted to do this but obviously not so there's no point in continuing."  He is getting eggy at my behaviour. 

I put my hand over my mouth to hide my amusement and flutter my eyelashes at him to try and appease his annoyance.  "I'm sorry, really I am, it's just the omming is so off putting.  Can't we do it without?"  I almost plead for sanity. 

"No, now a bit of self-control if you can please."  Oh this so reminds me of moody him when we first met in the orchard.  God he's sexy.   

As we begin for a third time, I consider myself totally rapped around the knuckles but despite my best efforts I simply fail to concentrate and burst out laughing again at the new sort of Om that whistles out of him. 

"Are you laughing again Lily?"  Harry asks sternly but I sense a whisp of wit hidden underneath his tone. 

I gingerly open my eyes again and glance sheepishly at him mouthing a "sorry" as I bite my lip.   

"You'd better be able to run fast."  He declares nonchalantly.

"Why?"  He is so plotting but I'm onto him and already alert.

"Because once I get hold of you, you'd wish you hadn't laughed at me," comes flying out of his mouth as he jumps to his feet like a jack-in-the-box.  However, I am one step ahead and sprinting away squealing before he begins to chase after me. 

I shout behind me bragging that I know every inch of this garden like the back of my hand and he will never catch me but his reply that I shouldn't be so sure makes me shriek even more.  I quickly dart up the steps and hide behind the confines of the shed.  He scares the hell of out me when he pokes his head around the opposite corner to the one I expect him to look around and shouts "boo".  I manage to escape through a tight gap between the shed and the fence.  In fact, it's so narrow I know I'll have difficulty squeezing through but carry on determined as there is no way he will fit.  His long arm reaches through into the space to try and grab me but he fails to get a proper hold, instead grappling with my tee before I wiggle out of his grasp.  He has to go all the way around and he lets out a frustrated sigh whilst I just wind him up by laughing triumphantly. 

We run around the garden like two great big kids.  I hide then he finds me but I manage to shrug him off or out manoeuver him every time.  That is until I reach the orchard because from here there is nowhere else to go.  He chases me around the trees as I weave my body this way and that dodging his clutches until I start to tire.  Bent over with my hands on my knees, I rest then lean against the apple tree puffing hard and declare to him "you win". 

He saunters sassily towards me with a lewd gaze of glee across his sharp features and presses me obscenely up against the tree.  A few strands of my hair caress between his fingers before he drags them seductively across his parting lips, closing his eyes and sucking in a deep breath.  He is so damn hypnotisingly erotic that the echo of my heart beat throbs sensationally through my ears and pulses magically where I want him to touch me.

"Gotcha, said I would."  He looks so smugly pulchritudinous that I can't repress my eye roll. 

"Oh no you didn't, I let you."  I shake my head and purse my lips whilst sidling up to him.  My face is inches from his mesmerising stare but before I have time to relish in my conceit he grabs either side of my cheeks and unleashes a desperately sensual kiss against my lips.  As I am sinking deeper under his lustful control, he pulls away from me and before I have time to register what he's doing, I am up and over his shoulder in a fireman's lift and he is marching us both back down the garden.  I wail in protest, flailing my legs and smacking my hands against his back but he just dexterously holds me with one hand and swats my ass with his other.

"It's just too easy Beautiful, you took your eye off the ball.  Better luck next time!"

I am unable to see his face but can tell by his self-righteous tone that he has the look of a right egotistical son of bitch!  This playfully vexes me even more but the more I protest against him the harder he smacks my bum.

We finally reach the bottom garden and he slides me down his body until my feet rest on the grass.  Both his arms wrap firmly around my waist, rendering me unable to move.

"Let me go Mr Muscle."  I try desperately to wriggle from his grasp. 

"Not until you agree to do the yoga properly.  Now shall we begin again AND without the omming this time?"  He glares at me as one side of his mouth turns up in a smirk. 

"Yes please."

"Ok, let's begin."  He releases me and tries to peck my lips but I jestingly decline.  He shrugs his shoulders and grins before turning to return to his towel.  I can't resist the opportunity to get my own back, even if it is only with words. 

"Thank you Master."

His back is to me as he stops in his tracks.  He slowly swivels on his heels to look round at me.  His square jaw is defiantly locked as he waltzes back over, towering over me.  His thumb and forefinger pull my chin up to the lime sparkle of his eyes in the sunlight and grasp my stare.  "Don't ever call me Master."  His tone although light is meaningful. 

"Sorry Beautiful Bun Top."  I say in a silly accent whilst pretend curtsying politely. 

His imposing glare fades as his face crumbles and he begins to chortle so loudly it sends me into fits of giggles.  "What am I going to do with you?"  He shakes his head smiling half exasperatedly down at me.  

We then practice yoga on the lawn in the sunshine for an hour.  Harry bends and stretches his limbs into positions that defy all probability whilst I gawp on impressed and totally wishing he was doing the moves topless so I could revel in the flex and pull of his abs that currently reside under his tee.

The poses are so relaxing and he isn't all 'look what I can do' show-offing and making it complicated.  He strips it right back to basics and talks me through every pose from downward facing dog to pigeon pose to cat and cow, all the time constantly reminding me breathe.  I can just picture him taking a class and it being packed full of loved-up women simply there for a 30-minute masterclass in that which is the temple of his body and seduction of his low enticing raspy instructions. 

He says I do pretty well for a first timer.  He is so encouragingly sweet, helping me achieve the correct positions and adjusting me into proper alignment.  For the triangle pose, I lose my balance and fall over but he is immediately there helping me up and into the position again to have another try.  His hands touching all over me is very distracting, especially as my tee rides up and his fingers purposely stroke against my bare skin.  Mr Tease knows exactly what he's doing, getting me all worked up into a sexual frenzy.  However, I manage to suppress the fire still sizzling inside of me from his temptation in the orchard. 

To finish, we lay side by side for the Savasana pose.  His velvety voice and tranquil words transport me off to somewhere unknown and I actually nod off for a little while.  

We then stand facing each other as he clasps his hands together in front of his heart as if in prayer and bows his head.  "Namaste" he says and I quickly copy as he confirms it means 'I honour you' and is said at the end of class.

"See wasn't so bad was it?"  He closes the gap between us, lightly feathering his fingers on my hips.

I smile at him and nod my head in agreement.  "I really enjoyed it, it was very relaxing, thank you."

He leans in and massages his lips faintly against mine.  "Shower?"

"Yes."  Is all I can manage before he eagerly grabs my hand in his and practically drags me willingly back inside the house.