Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
She looked cozy and warm. Soft, yet dangerous.
Because it was a different kind of beautiful than I was used to from her — not the glittering, high-impact version under stadium lights, not the sharp, untouchable kind she wore like armor. This was stripped down. Real. The kind of look that made a man forget himself.
The kind that made me want to reach for her.
My spine straightened without permission, every ounce of calm I’d fought for slipping through my fingers like sand.
Yeah.
I was fucked.
“Hey, Boss.”
I shook my head, fighting the smile threatening to break on my lips. “Hey, Trouble.”
She waved her hand over my mat. “Please tell me there’s more to what’s happening here than you just sitting in a dark room all alone, which is pretty bleak.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Coming to save you from your sulk, obviously.”
I frowned. “I’m not sulking.”
“So you’re just hanging out in a dark room by yourself because you’re full of joy?”
“I’m meditating.”
“Wow. This is bleaker than I thought.”
I barked out an unbidden laugh. “Damn it, woman, I’m trying to concentrate.”
“Oh, so I’m woman now?” She tongued her cheek and curled a finger over her ear like she was brushing hair back. “Kind of hot, actually. Say it again. More growl this time.”
“This is serious.”
She huffed. “Fine, Mr. Serious. Have it your way.” She folded her legs to mirror mine, hands delicately draping over her knees as she straightened her spine. “Teach me.”
“Teach you what?”
“How to sulk — er, I mean, meditate.”
“It’s kind of a solo thing.”
“Oh, stop trying so damn hard to get rid of me for once. It’s quiet. We’re practically alone and no one cares if we’re in here meditating, so shut up and tell me what to do.”
I opened my mouth to point out how that statement contradicted itself, but when she lifted a brow in warning, I found myself laughing instead.
Damn her for being so beautiful, so persistent, so fucking cute.
“I don’t think you’re going to like it,” I warned.
“Try me.”
“You asked for it.”
“Not yet, but probably by the end of the day.”
She winked, wetting her lips until I caught on to her insinuation.
I flattened my lips, but chose not to open that door even in a joking manner. We were already alone in a small, dark room — I didn’t need to flirt with the line we were already dangerously close to crossing.
“All right. You want to learn? First rule — you actually have to be quiet.”
She zipped her lips dramatically, then pressed her palms together like she was about to pray.
“Second,” I continued, settling back into position, “you don’t have to do anything fancy. Just sit. Spine straight, shoulders relaxed. Hands wherever they’re comfortable.”
She adjusted, rolling her shoulders back and lifting her chin just slightly. For once, she didn’t crack a joke.
“Close your eyes,” I said.
She blinked one eye shut, then the other, a smile on her lips like we were playing a game.
“Now just breathe,” I went on, keeping my voice low and even. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow. Controlled. Don’t try to force anything. Just… notice it.”
Silence stretched between us, soft and fragile.
I could hear her inhale — a little uneven at first — then exhale, longer this time.
“Inhale,” I murmured.
She followed.
“Exhale.”
A few beats passed. Maybe thirty seconds.
And then —
“It’s not working.”
My eyes opened to find her squinting at me, already halfway out of position.
I huffed a quiet laugh. “You’ve been doing it for five seconds.”
“It’s been at least a minute.”
“It hasn’t.”
“Well, it felt like an hour,” she muttered.
“Hard to be quiet and still when you’re so used to movement distracting you from the present moment, isn’t it?”
Her eyes widened, a softness washing over her. “Damn. You don’t have to yell.”
I chuckled. “Let’s try again.”
She groaned but got back into position, crossing her legs again and dropping her hands to her knees. “If I fall asleep, I’m blaming you.”
“You won’t fall asleep.”
“How do you know?”
“Because your brain doesn’t seem capable of being quiet for that long.”
Her eyes snapped open. “Rude.”
“Accurate.”
She narrowed her gaze at me, but after a second, she sighed and closed her eyes again.
“Okay,” I said, softer this time. “Try this. When a thought comes up — because it will — don’t fight it. Just imagine placing it on a log floating down a river.”
Her brow furrowed.
“Just… picture it,” I went on. “The thought shows up, you set it down on the log, and you let it drift away. You don’t chase it. You don’t hold onto it. You just… let it go.”
She was quiet for a beat.
“Okay,” she said finally, her voice less sharp. “I can do logs.”
“Good,” I murmured. “Now breathe.”
Inhale.
Exhale.
This time, the silence settled deeper.
Her breaths evened out, syncing slowly with mine. The restless energy she’d carried into the room softened, quieting in increments I could almost feel without touching her.