Page 24 of Crave

A week on the rocky coast sounded perfect. No stress, no distractions. Just trees and shrubs and people looking for inner peace.

But I didn’t count on the sitting still part. Or the noise in my head that’s louder than anything in the outside world.

I’m sitting in a room with forty other people, all kneeling on mats on the wooden floor. We’re two days in, and during the first meditation session, there were plenty of sounds as people got settled. But everyone else seems to have found their stride.

I’m no good at sitting still. And I’m definitely not the silent type. I came here because I needed a break from life, but life keeps chasing me.

I shift on the mat to peek out the window. Pine trees rustle, moving freely in the wind. When I tear my gaze away, I catch an annoyed glance.

It’s him.

Again.

Every time I fidget or yawn, this one jerk gives me a disapproving look. Which just makes me fidget more. We’re supposed to keep our gazes cast down, but whenever I see him, I’m increasingly on edge.

My long curly red hair falls into my face, tickling my cheeks. I quickly twist it into a bun and catch him watching me with narrowed eyes, as if he can’t meditate with all that distraction.

I cough. He glares. I’m not sure which one of us is less peaceful right now.

And to make it worse, he’s hot. Disturbingly so.

Dark hair, dark brows, olive skin, startling blue eyes… I don’t trust hot guys.

When he turns away, I check him out. We’re supposed to dress modestly here. But even with his loose white T-shirt and pants, there’s enough bronzed skin on display to give me an idea of his body — a dirty idea.

He’s thirty-something, like me. No wedding ring. His hands are beautiful. Of course they are.

I try to stay calm and ignore him. But during the walking meditation, I trip and lose my balance. During mealtime, I drop a dish. Each time, he shoots me alook,as if I’m messing up his whole day.

After lunch, I exit through the wrong door. Naturally, he’s rounding a clump of scraggly pines, probably coming back from the restroom, and I accidentally brush past him.

My bare arm presses against his with a sudden shock. My pale freckled skin makes a startling contrast to his bronzed forearm. His blue eyes open wide, and for a second, neither of us moves.

Our eyes lock. We say nothing, of course. But the touch, the eye contact — these are all against the rules.

I’m suddenly, completely aware that my breast is nudging his arm. My nipple’s so hard that it aches. My gaze drops to his loose pants, and I stare at the tent of his erection before dragging my eyes back to his flushed face.

On cue, we both jump back. He rakes a hand through his hair and gives me that look of pure annoyance. All my nerves are wide awake. On edge, I let out a giggle and get another glare. I stick my tongue out at his sexy back, and dammit, he turns and sees. Hurrying away from his disapproval, I bite down more laughter.

But underneath, I’m ruffled. Pissed off. His attitude is ruining my retreat.

Not to mention his warm body, which I imagine pressing into mine for the rest of the day. Brushing my nipples, teasing my breasts.

But I want more than a tease from him. I want weight and force. I want him tomakeme be still. Pin me down, order me with those blue eyes to focus. And when I do, he rewards me by spreading my legs to discover how wet I am…

That night, I touch myself in bed. It’s against the rules; we’re supposed to be celibate throughout the retreat. But it’s the only way I know how to calm down right now.

I feel him on top of me, massaging my soaked pussy. He dips his head to suck my nipple into his mouth. Kissing me hard, invading me with his tongue. He grips my curls in his fist and sinks his cock into my tightness, fucking me deeper and deeper until I don’t break focus for an instant.

He’s everywhere, on me and inside me. I shudder and squeeze my thighs around my hand, rubbing my sensitive clit until I come in a rush.

The next day, I’m calmer. I fidget less when we’re sitting, and I don’t lift my gaze to scan the room for him.

In the afternoon meditation session, I close my eyes and breathe deeply. I can smell the pines outside, the scent of sun-baked dirt and needles.

The swirling thoughts slow down. Finally, I find a measure of peace. Time hangs suspended until the ping of the brass meditation bell.

But when I resurface, heat washes over me. My eyes pop open, and as if pulled by a magnet, I turn. To look athim.

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