I really need to get away from it all, so I sign up for a remote retreat.
I barely pay attention to the details, something about inner peace and self-discipline. Blah blah. Whatever.
When I get off the boat, I expect to be met by some chill monks.
Instead, I’m greeted by two hot ex-military men who run their remote meditation center like a boot camp.
I quickly learn they’re really serious, and hands on, about the discipline part.
They demand obedience and submission,
I demand cocktails and hot towels.
None of us are giving in.
But one of us is very sore.
Me. It’s me. I’m sore.
These guys know how to break a girl down.
Before I know it, I’m falling apart.
Going to inner pieces.
Are they going to put me back together?
Or will I stay their shattered little brat?
And what happens when they find out why I really had to get away?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
Aslin
“I want my money back.”
I’m staring at a monk. The word monk is wrong. They used it in the website, at least I thought they did. I assumed it meant chill old dude in a robe. This guy is no older than forty, muscled to hell and back, and hot when he’s annoyed. I know that last part, because I’ve annoyed him, and that means I am getting the full benefit of his dark, aggressive stare. He’s dripping slightly, but that’s his fault.
See, I just got off a boat that I thought was taking me to a high-end retreat. What I discovered was nothing of the sort. There were just two guys on a rickety old bamboo dock, wearing camouflage pants and white vests. They grabbed my luggage out of the boat and before I knew it, the little motorboat had putted back down river. I was alone with two men I did not know, neither one of whom looked like he knew how to provide a hot stone massage.
“What the f… is going on here?” I inquired, gently. “Where’s the retreat?”
“You’re here,” the blond said. “I’m Soren, and this is Jason.”
“I don’t see a cabana on the waterfront. I don’t hear wind chimes. I don’t smell incense. I don’t have a complimentary margarita in my hand. This is false advertising.”
“Brat,” Jason growled under his breath.
That annoyed me. I didn’t come all this way to be spoken down to. I came all this way for private pampering.
“I’m the customer,” I reminded him. “I paid more than some people earn in a year to come here, so I better have a drink in my hand in the next thirty seconds, or I am going to…”
“ENOUGH!” Jason barked the word, his voice booming so loudly it scared the birds, and probably alligators, out of the water.
He yelled at me. I can’t believe he yelled at me.
I did what any boss babe fourteen hours out from her last good cocktail, discovering herself deep in the wilds of a foreign land, and being yelled at by some jerk would do.
I pushed Jason into the water.
What would you have done?
Jason looks very attractive climbing back up onto the dock. I guess he didn’t plan it, but he basically entered a wet t-shirt contest for me. The way the vest clings to his six-pack as he pulls himself up out of the water would make the internet explode if they could see it. I’m talking rippling muscles and perfect form. Holy…
He nails me with a dark, furious stare, but doesn’t say anything to me. Instead he talks to the other guy.
“Get her up to camp, before I do something I’m going to regret.”
“Oh. Nice. Threats of violence,” I say as Soren takes me by the elbow, which is also a mistake. “I can’t tell you what I’m going to do to your online reviews. I am going to make them look like…”
Soren, who is much taller than I am, bends down to put his lips by my ear. Unlike Jason, he doesn’t yell. He speaks in a soft murmur that might actually be more intimidating.
“Little hint, Aslin,” he says. “Behave yourself.”
“What is that supposed to mean!?”
“It means you’re obviously out of your depth, confused about what you’ve gotten yourself into, and in about as much trouble as you can be in. You’ve been here two minutes. So. Slow your roll. I know you can be a good girl when you want to be.”
He punctuates his advice with a light pat to my ass. He barely taps me and immediately my entire body is flooded with mad endorphins.
But it’s not the tap that gets me, and it’s not the warning, purred in my ear. It’s the way he looks at me. Not through me, but into me. I now know what it means to be penetrated by a stare. Most people think I’m a rich, spoiled pain in the rear. Soren’s already seeing something else, talking directly to a part of me I keep hidden.
I am going to have to be very careful with this man. I didn’t come here to be noticed. I came here to disappear.
That brings us to this moment. I am, apparently, in trouble. The ‘house’ such as it is, is more like a big gazebo. Very open to the elements at the sides, and basically no privacy whatsoever. I can’t imagine where I’m supposed to… you know.
“Sit down,” Jason says, pointing to the floor. There’s nothing to sit on, of course. Not even a stupid little cushion thing. There’s just a bamboo mat. Everything here is bamboo. The buildings are bamboo, the clothes are made of bamboo, the furniture is bamboo, and outside, the bamboo is also bamboo.
“Nope,” I say.
Soren makes the argument moot by pressing on the backs of my knees and dropping me to the floor. I’m not used to being handled that casually and physically at the same time.