Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 34715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
I keep thinking about Sadie. My big sister is probably pacing her perfect kitchen right now, phone glued to her ear, imagining the worst. She’s a school teacher and always under control, but if she thinks something happened to me, she'll be a mess. I trust Banks's brother Mack to call her like he promised. I really do. But that doesn't stop the worry from twisting in my chest like a knot I can't untie. What if she thinks I'm dead? What if I never see her again?
I set my mug down a little too hard and stand up, needing to move before the anxious thoughts swallow me whole. "I have to do something or I'm going to drive myself crazy," I announce, my voice brighter than I feel. "My brain is spinning like a hamster on espresso. Yoga. That's what I need. A little downward dog to shake off the doom spiral."
Banks glances up from his laptop, one eyebrow raised in that grumpy, ridiculously sexy way that makes my stomach flip. "Yoga?"
"Yep. Right here in the living room. Don't worry, I'll stay out of your way, Mr. Broody Protector." I flash him a cheeky grin and start pushing the coffee table to the side, making space on the rug. "Besides, it's good for focus. And stretching. And not thinking about how my sister is probably planning my funeral right now."
He watches me for a beat, then nods once. "Just keep it away from the windows."
I salute him playfully. "Yes, sir."
I peel off my oversized hoodie, leaving me in a thin tank top and the black shorts. The cabin air feels cool against my skin, but the way Banks's eyes flick over me before returning to his screen sends a rush of heat straight through my body. God, why can't I stop flirting with him? Every time I open my mouth around this man, something flirty and embarrassing comes out. It's like my survival instincts took a vacation and left my hormones in charge.
I start with a few gentle neck rolls and shoulder stretches, trying to loosen the knots from sleeping in a strange bed and running for my life. "You know," I say, bending forward into a loose fold, "if someone had told me yesterday morning that I'd be doing sun salutations in a secret cabin with a hot bodyguard, I would've laughed in their face. Yet here we are."
Banks doesn't respond, but I can feel his gaze on me again. It lingers this time, heavy and warm. I move into downward dog, hips high, and hold the pose, feeling the stretch along the backs of my legs. My tank top rides up a little, exposing a strip of skin at my lower back. I swear I hear his typing pause.
"This is supposed to be calming," I mutter to myself, but my pulse is racing for entirely different reasons now. Every time I shift into a new pose, I imagine his eyes following the line of my body. Warrior pose has me feeling strong and exposed at the same time. I flow into a lunge, then twist, and the awareness of him sitting just a few feet away makes my skin tingle.
I'm highly attracted to him. Dangerously so. He's all quiet strength and intense focus, with those broad shoulders and that sharp jaw and eyes that see way too much. I wish I could stop the flirting, but something about him makes me bold and nervous and giddy all at once. It's the worst possible timing, but my body doesn't seem to care.
I drop into a plank, then lower into cobra, arching my back. A soft sound escapes me, half stretch, half something breathier. I can feel him watching. Really watching. The heat in my core builds slowly, turning into a low, insistent ache. My mind flashes to what it would feel like if those strong hands were on me instead of just his gaze. I hold the pose longer than necessary, breathing through the rush of desire.
"Anniston." His voice is low and rough, cutting through the quiet cabin like a command. I lower to the floor and turn my head toward him. He's standing now, arms crossed over his chest, eyes dark with something that looks a lot like the same hunger I'm feeling.
"Yeah?" I ask, trying to sound casual even though my heart is hammering.
"You need to stop."
I push up to sitting, knees bent, and tilt my head. "Stop what? Yoga is very wholesome. Very zen."
He takes a step closer. "You know exactly what. The poses. The little sounds. The way you're moving like you're trying to test every ounce of control I have left."
I bite my lip, heat flooding my cheeks, but I don't look away. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm tired of being scared and worried and I need to feel something else for five minutes. Something good."