It's hard to meditate when you mostly think it's stupid. It's even harder to meditate when a gorgeous man – the same man you made out with the entire night before until you both fell asleep – is trying to distract you. And he's doing a damn fine job.
I sit here in the lotus position. Which to be honest, I'm probably doing wrong. But he is right beside me with fingers touching me everywhere – my crossed legs, the small of my back my open palms. And he's whispering things about open minds and open legs and which of the two he prefers.
I glare at him from the side, and he looks contrite for all of three seconds. He assumes the same position I'm in and closes his eyes. But then he licks his lips before biting down on the bottom one and pulling it into his mouth. And you know what? Fuck meditation. Because now I'm blatantly staring at him until he smiles, as if he knows exactly what I'm doing.
I can't help the giggle that escapes me. Two women in front of me turn around, and now I am the one being glared at, while Edward looks calm and composed and absolutely goddamn serene. I offer them an apologetic smile before closing my eyes. And after a few moments of silence, I elbow him as hard as I can in the ribs.
.
.
When we walk out of the meditation room, he grabs my hand and pulls me down the hall on the right.
"I don't think violence is necessary, Ms. Swan," he says, pulling me against him.
"Well, I think you are like the bad kid who sits in the back of the classroom and causes trouble."
"I only sat where you were sitting," he says, dipping his head to my neck and sucking my skin with his very open and very wet mouth. "Maybe you are the bad kid in the back of the class causing trouble."
I can't even think.
"Maybe…maybe I am."
"I think you are," he continues, breathing in my ear before biting down on my lobe. "I think you are exactly that girl….the bad girl. I'm pretty sure you bruised me."
His hands slide down my back and settle on my ass.
"I'm pretty sure you deserved it."
"I'm pretty sure you have a problem with anger management."
His words are playful and teasing, but as soon as he says it, my body stills, and every muscle tenses. I pull back to find his confused expression, and even though I don't want to hurt him, I pull out of his arms and put some distance between us.
"You're right," I say, my voice tense. "I umm…I think I need to be alone for a while."
I turn on my heel and head down the hall because I don't want to do this – I don't want to have this conversation with him here and now. I don't know when or if I do want to have this conversation.
"Bella, wait," he says, running up behind me and grabbing my hand. "I…I was just kidding."
"Yeah, well, you were right on fucking target."
I take my hand away from his and leave him there in the hallway. He doesn't follow me, and I'm equally relieved and sad about that. I go back to my suite with the beige and lavender walls and the bed that I slept with him in the night before. I can't look at it, I can't think about it.
I sit on the couch and I close my eyes. This time, I actually try to focus on finding my center, the peace and calm that I lost not so very long ago.
And still, my mind only sees two images.
The same two men – both of them stand in direct opposition of each other.
The one who I pushed away.
And the one who did the same thing to me.
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