Divine Desire: A Lotus House Novel: Book Three Page 4
Choosing to stay the course, I sat down and got into it. After about fifteen minutes, magically, I forgot I was naked. Moving through the twelve steps of the sun salutation, going from standing to bending, lunging, planking and circling back around always put my mind in a state of utter Zen. I often did the series in my classes. Once a student learned the twelve steps, they became confident and zoned out, which is what yoga was all about. Not only did the act of moving the body in an aerobic way tone and strengthen the physical form, but it also built a quiet place for the mind to rest and rejuvenate.
Toward the end of the class, he’d instructed us to face the side of our mats and go into a wide-legged forward bend. This put my best asset on display, along with opening me wide. I tried my best not to look through my legs. I didn’t want to see who would be staring at the most vulnerable place on my body, and how that would make me feel, until a heated sizzling pricked against my neck. It was like the feeling a person gets when someone is following you. Almost as though I just knew someone was there, watching me.
I was right.
I opened my eyes quickly. The entire room was bent over facing the opposite direction. No skeevy young college dude was staring down my vagina. Then that prickling sensation hit again, and I glanced at Atlas. His eyes were zeroed in on mine. He stood, seemingly stunned. The fire in his eyes was scalding. My face and chest became heated at the carnal lust so clearly flowing off him in thunderous bolts of energy. Pressing into my thighs, I arched my back and came up before I fell over. I glanced over my bare shoulder and watched as his dick hardened right before my eyes.
Finally! Eureka!
My God, he was virile. His cock was long and thick, with a powerful root and a wide crown. His lower half was devoid of hair and completely smooth. Nothing guarded the proud stem from pushing up when he clasped his hand around the base, locked his gaze with mine, and gave one brisk tug.
Ribbons of desire poured through me so forcefully, it took everything I had to rein it in, smirk, and present him with my best asset by bending over back into the pose. I kept my eyes closed and the crown of my head resting on the ground. I needed the support.
Atlas called out a few more instructions that I followed to the T. Every chance I could, I’d sneak a peek at his body. Everything about him was perfection—with the exception of his curly hair, which hid his eyes more often than not. I’d give my left breast in order to paint him. He’d be the ideal nude model. Dark hair, high sculpted cheekbones, a chiseled nose, plump lips, and a body that could make angels weep. He’d be exactly what I needed to finalize my showing. A few nudes of this man and I’d sell out.
My fingers instinctively curled around a paintbrush that wasn’t there. I needed to paint. Finally, my muse had been stroked. The desire to craft and create rushed through me. If only we could stand one another long enough for me to paint him. Unfortunately, we hadn’t been able to be in front of one another for longer than a couple minutes without verbally attacking one another.
“Okay, class, get settled into Corpse pose, which is just lying on your back, your feet and ankles resting outward, your arms down by your sides with your hands open to the ceiling. We want to bring the universe’s energy inward through our deep relaxation or savasana, not push it into the earth by pressing our palms to the floor. I’ve placed a bolster near your mat. Push it under the meat of your thighs so your pelvis rests comfortably.”
As I lay there listening to the gravelly timber of his voice, a white-hot fire slithered along the surface of my skin, making me antsy. A familiar tic started in my jaw, and my heart beat against my chest. I couldn’t relax. I had to go.
Standing up, I kneeled behind my mat and rolled it up with a flourish. The sound of bare feet slapping against the hard wood floor got louder and louder until it stopped right behind me.
“What’s wrong?” Atlas whispered, leaning down behind me. His naked body was so near, the scent of musk and spice swirled in the air around us, cloaking me in lustful images of sweaty, mind-blowing sex. It was something I hadn’t had the pleasure of smelling in far too long. It had been months since my last hookup. My mouth watered at the desire to turn my head and lick along what was sure to be stubbly skin. In my mind, Atlas would groan and gasp when I bit down and marked the succulent column with my teeth.
God smack it. I had to go. Now.
I pushed up, and my body slammed backward into his. His arms came around my waist. My hands went to the thick trunks of his thighs, my nails digging in as much for balance as with need. The need to put my hands on his beautiful body. To feel it just once.
At first, he didn’t move a muscle aside from his hardening length, the hammering of his heart, and slow inhalation. At full mast, his cock rested densely between the cushion of my ass cheeks, and for the love of God, it felt extraordinary. Atlas tensed his fingers against my belly, pressing my back further against his chest. His body was warm, encompassing, and safe. I hadn’t felt safe and sound in a man’s arms in a long time. Too long, because I responded instantly by rubbing my ass against the thick erection lying there.
He leaned his head against the crux of where my neck and shoulder met. “Keep that up, and I’ll bend you over right here and now in front of an entire class. You test my patience as it is with your cinnamon skin and firm body,” he growled low and purposeful, directly into my ear. The music was loud enough, and a quick glance around showed that everyone was well into their deep relaxation.
I arched, pressing into him again, wanting to test him, to make him feel how insane he made women just by existing.
“You’re going to regret that, wildcat,” he purred into my ear.
I closed my eyes and took a slow breath. “I doubt that very much.”
And since I’d already lost my mind, I figured why not go for gold? Grabbing both his hands, I pulled them away from my waist, spun in his arms, flattened my breasts against his bare chest, curled an arm around his neck, and hauled myself up on my toes where I pressed my lips to his.
Within half a breath, his arm banded around my waist and hauled me up higher. The rigidness of his steely erection dragged perfectly along my pelvis. I prevented myself from moaning but just barely. He took that slight lip loosening as an invitation to plunge his tongue into my mouth. From the second our tongues touched, I was a goner.
His tongue licked into my mouth, flicked against my tongue, and swallowed me and my inhibitions whole. Atlas Powers kissed with his entire body. Hands kneading, lips nibbling, legs asserting, and arms embracing. There was nowhere to go, and no place I’d rather be than naked and smashed up against his powerful frame, lost in him.
Someone coughed and the bubble around us burst. I pushed away and scrambled to the clothes I had sitting next to my mat.
“Mila…” Atlas whispered, attempting to get my attention. No dice. My cheeks were aflame with shame and embarrassment.
I gritted my teeth and tugged on my pants. Then I yanked on my sports bra, fumbling more times than necessary. Atlas placed his hands on my raised arms, my breasts coming close to plastering against his chest once more. He curled his fingers around the twisted part of my clothing and slid it down easily. Slowly I watched while he feathered those talented digits over both of my breasts and put my sports bra back in place. I wish I could have said the same for my dignity.
Wanting to say something, anything, but knowing this was the absolute wrong place, I just stared into his blue, no brown…wait…
“You have one brown eye and one blue eye?” The question slipped from my lips as easily as my fingers around his neck moments ago.
“Very observant, hotness. Can we discuss at a later date?” He held his hands out to the people lying like the dead still lost to savasana. Lucky for them, deep relaxation was most people’s favorite part. The ability to just let your mind wander, and the body completely melt, kind of like I did naked against…
I lifted a hand to my heated forehead and shook my head. “Insanity.”
“I ag
ree. You definitely have a few screws loose, but you’re fine as hell, a phenomenal kisser, and I can’t wait to hear you scream my name.”
Anger sputtered to the surface, replacing all lusty thoughts with seeds of rage. I stepped forward standing on my tiptoes while he hunched forward, accommodating my smaller stature. In a scant breath, we were face-to-face, only now, the desire to kiss him was long gone and the need to punch him was firing on all cylinders.
“You think you can handle me?” I taunted.
“Oh, hotness, I can more than handle you.”
“Doubtful.”
“Name your terms.”
Again, I took stock of the room. The bodies on the floor were lost to their Zen place. As much as I wanted to continue this conversation, because I felt more alive right now than I had in years, this was not the place to be verbally or physically attacking one another. I dug into my small purse and pulled out a pen. I grabbed his forearm and wrote my number on the inside.
“Text, don’t call.”
With a sway of my hips and a bounce to my step, I clutched my things to my chest, zigzagged on bare feet through the clients, and left. As quietly as possible, I unlocked the door and glanced over my shoulder. He stood ramrod straight, muscled arms crossed over his broad chest, legs apart in a wide stance, and his eyes on me.
His beauty was primitive and finely engraved with muscles that were a combination of God-given genetics and hard work.
He was everything I didn’t need. A distraction of compelling proportions that would wreak havoc on my mind, bruise my heart, and break my soul. Taking in all that was him from head to toe, remembering his kiss, the power with which he held me to him…I didn’t have the wherewithal to care.
ATLAS
Text, don’t call.
That’s what Mila said after scribbling her phone number on my arm and disappearing from class. Finishing up my first ever naked yoga with a hard-on had not been pleasant. I’d broken my one rule and pulled on my yoga pants and sat lotus-style on the riser before releasing everyone from their deep relaxation. If they were put off by my clothing, nobody said anything. However, I was excited to note how many thanked me for the experience and promised to come to next week’s class. I requested they share the flyer with their friends.
A few more girls hung around trying to get my number. The strange thing? I had automatically answered by telling them I was seeing someone. Absolutely not true. Mila had entered my mind for a split second and, for no good reason that I could think of, I turned down the opportunity for meaningless sex with a willing, pretty female. All because she wasn’t the female I wanted to bed.
Remembering my dick wedged between the cheeks of her fine ass took up all the space in my mind. I literally could not stop thinking about my wildcat. Although, for the life of me, I couldn’t fathom why. Sure, she was God’s gift to men. Small, fit, brown skin, hair long enough to grip and tug while fucking, perky tits. I bet I could fit an entire breast in my mouth. Bet she’d like that, too. Yeah. And that ass. Formed by master genetics. She could give Jennifer Lopez a run for her money. Smaller in size but even more bubblicious. I gripped my thighs and squeezed while I imagined digging my fingers into that ass. She’d love it, too. Little spitfire. As long as she kept her mouth shut, we’d be fine. Hell, I knew exactly where to put my dick to keep her quiet. Then again, I loved tossing barbs at her and getting them back. I never knew what flippant words were going to come out of her kissable mouth. All I knew was that I wanted to poke and prod her. Make her wildly angry and then gasp in pleasure.
Fight and fuck.
The perfect goal. I guess we’d come closer to reaching that target tonight. Seeing her ire when she realized the class was naked yoga had been priceless. Her eyes had glossed over, she’d bitten her plump bottom lip, and then she’d gasped. I wanted to see that look of surprise on her face but only when I was balls deep giving her the best orgasm of her life. I could imagine it so clearly.
I tossed my bag on the leather sectional and surveyed my pad. Technically, I rented a room. My buddy Clayton Hart owned the deluxe apartment in Oakland. He was a fitness instructor to the stars. He even worked with several of the Oakland Ports teammates, including Trent Fox, a friend of my buddy Dash’s. I hadn’t met the baseball player yet, but I had met his wife, Genevieve. She worked at Lotus House, but according to the grapevine, she wanted to scale back her teaching now that she had a salon to run and a small baby to care for. I crossed my fingers that I’d be able to take on some of her classes. The money I got from gigs was enough to keep paying my rent, but the yoga teaching helped feed and clothe me. I wasn’t hurting for money, but I definitely didn’t have a lot to spare. Of course, all that would change if I could just get a shot with a label willing to take a chance on me and my music.
Moving around the room, I slumped onto the couch and flicked on the stereo. Beck’s quirky music filtered through the system, and I closed my eyes.
Text, don’t call.
I dug my hand into my hoodie and pulled out my phone. I pushed up my sleeve and added Mila’s number as a contact under the name “Wildcat.”
Why did she want me to text her and not call? Fuck that. I hit her number and clicked the green button that would call her.
It rang several times and went straight to voice mail.
“You’ve reached Mila Mercado. Leave a message after the beep, and I’ll get back to you. Namaste.”
“Hey, hotness, I’m calling. This is Atlas. Program my number.” I huffed and hung up. Not more than a minute later, my phone buzzed in my hand.
From: Wildcat
To: Atlas Powers
Don’t you listen? I said text not call.
I grinned, and my fingers flew across the keys.
From: Atlas Powers
To: Wildcat
Scared to hear my voice? Of what it will do to you…
Wildcat: You’re really that confident. And here I thought you could be nice.
Atlas: Oh, I can be nice. So nice. Let me show you.
Wildcat: Ha! Not a chance.
Atlas: You know you want to.
Wildcat: I know I want to throat punch you.
Atlas: You want to kiss me. Admit it.
Wildcat: No. Suck it.
Atlas: I’d be happy to. What? Your lips. Your tits. Your cunt.
Wildcat: You’re sexting me?
Atlas: You can’t possibly be this dumb.
Wildcat: Fuck you.
Atlas: Exactly! When?
Wildcat: You’re driving me crazy.
Atlas: That’s the point. I want you out of your mind for me.
Wildcat: Oh, I’m out of my mind all right. For even having this conversation. Go to bed.
Atlas: I’d be happy to go to bed with you.
Wildcat: Ugh…
Atlas: Joking aside. I want to see you. Outside of work.
With that last text, my heart hammered and my mouth went dry. I waited. The display showed the message was delivered, which meant she’d seen it. Where was the response? The funny retort?
Finally, the message pinged and my stomach dropped.
Wildcat: I want to see you, too. Naked.
I grinned. She’d caved. Fuck yes! I shook my head and grinned. I hadn’t expected her to admit her desire so completely. Could this night get any better?
Atlas: I’m in. Time and place?
Wildcat: You promise. If I let you come over, you’ll sit naked for me?
Sit naked for me? Weird way of putting it, but whatever floated her boat.
Atlas: I said I’m in. Time and place?
Wildcat: Tomorrow night. 7:00. My place.
She then typed out her address. I didn’t recognize it as anywhere I’d ever been. Didn’t matter. With the promise of getting naked with her on the horizon, I’d drive anywhere.
Atlas: See you then.
Wildcat: I’ll see you then. Dress comfortably.
Chapter Four
Chair Pose (Sanskrit: Utkatasana)
MILA
My studio apartment was a nightmare. Paint supplies littered my large wooden table. It was the only table I had, so it doubled as a workspace and dining space. Since I ate while I painted most nights, it worked. The current canvases for the gallery showing I was working toward were all stacked in one corner, covered in painting cloths. Unfortunately, I also had yoga clothes strewn on every available surface. I ran around the apartment with my laundry basket dumping anything out of place into it and then shoving it in my closet. I’d organize it later. Once I’d picked up the mess and clutter, I made my bed. As annoying as Atlas was, I didn’t want him to think I was a slob. Even if I was one. Some of the time anyway.
The studio I rented wasn’t anything to write home about, but it’s what I could afford. It worked for now. The apartment was a Cracker Jack box. My bed stood all of ten feet from my workspace, which was five feet from my small loveseat and TV. The tiny kitchenette had one long counter that shared a wall with the refrigerator and stove. I didn’t even have an oven; however, I’d put a toaster oven on the tiny counter space. I’d also picked up one of those chopping blocks on wheels so that I had something to prep food on. Plus, it was mobile, and I could roll it in front of the fridge when I wasn’t using it.