by Mia Madison
Bend & Break
Love at First Sight: Book Five
Mia Madison
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
About the Author
Bend & Break
Love at First Sight: Book Five
Copyright © 2017 by Mia Madison
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
Each book in the Love at First Sight series can be read on its own, but if you’d like to check out the previous books in the series, just follow the links below.
Touch & Taste (Book One)
Work & Play (Book Two)
Protect & Serve (Book Three)
Wants & Needs (Book Four)
1
Eight months.
Eight months of being so close to and yet so far away from the one man who steadfastly ignored my every attempt at flirting. Eight months of private yoga lessons with Mason and nothing but unresolved sexual tension, an aching heart, and greatly improved flexibility to show for it.
Not to mention some prime mocking material, but that was all courtesy of my mother.
“Ohhh, Mason,” I mockingly moaned, rolling my eyes as I listened to my mother rave to her friend over the phone about how big her yoga instructor’s dick was.
I had been through enough classes with Mason during which he wore sweats that fit a little too snugly to know that she wasn’t wrong about his size, but it annoyed the shit out of me that she said it like she had firsthand experience with his dick—which I knew for a fact she didn’t.
She needed to get a serious reality check and stop with her stupid obsession.
Mom met him a year or so ago in a yoga class she got roped into attending. My mother hated yoga—at least until she caught sight of Mason. After that, she was there every week.
From what I heard, she was always the first to arrive and the last to leave. I knew her well enough to know she was fishing for an invitation for drinks or dinner and it pissed her off that she never got it.
I guess she got sick of sharing his attention with the other women in the class and offered him enough money to give private lessons at the house, and he still hadn’t taken the bait. It was time for her to hang it up.
Then again, that might mean she’d cut him loose altogether, which wasn’t going to jive well with my own obsession. So maybe it was a good thing that she couldn’t seem to let it go.
When the conversation she was having turned to Botox, I hung up the receiver and flopped onto my back, letting out a long sigh as I stared at the ceiling of my bedroom. I grabbed a pillow and covered my face to stifle the sound of my long, drawn-out groan.
Once my frustration was released, I rolled out of bed and stretched. I checked my phone and responded to all the texts I’d received while I was still asleep before walking into the adjoining bathroom to brush my teeth.
There was a knock at the door the moment I stepped back into my room and I raised an eyebrow as Mom invited herself in.
“I’m going out.”
“Mason will be here soon.”
“I know. I called to reschedule, but he’s already on his way,” she said with a scowl. “He’s agreed to postpone my session until Thursday. I’m obligated to pay him for today so get dressed and be on your best behavior. Don’t do anything to embarrass me.”
“I’ll do my very best.”
Mom rolled her eyes and took a step back, lingering at the doorway as she said, “I’m going to have drinks with Colette after my appointment. I’ll be out late. Don’t wait up.”
“I never do,” I muttered.
I couldn’t help but think about the time Mom hopped on a plane with a friend and flew down to the Bahamas for a long weekend without even bothering to send me a text message. I didn’t even realize she was gone until she showed up Monday morning with a tan and that was only one example of how little we were involved in each other’s lives.
Because she always needed to have the last word, she hastily added, “Put some cream under your eyes. You’re getting bags from not sleeping enough.”
“Bitch,” I muttered under my breath as the click of her heels moved down the hall. “I do not have bags.”
I waited until I heard her car tearing down the driveway before I got dressed for the yoga session. I was giddy with excitement to have Mason all to myself for the entire hour. It wasn’t something that happened often.
I dug through the drawer I kept my workout clothes in and raised an eyebrow as I considered my options. Instead of grabbing my usual tank top and yoga pants—I grabbed the tightest pair of shorts I owned and a sports bra. The heat was a perfectly valid excuse for my revealing outfit. Even though I had been attempting to flirt with Mason for months, I never took it a step further from subtle remarks and coy looks.
Now was a good a time as any to step it up. Considering Mom had started missing or rescheduling more sessions with him as of late, I had a feeling that she was bound to give up on Mason altogether and find someone new to obsess over soon.
I had no idea what I would do if I couldn’t see him anymore.
The doorbell rang as I was tying my black hair into a top knot and I rushed downstairs, trying hard to contain my excitement. I took a moment in the hallway to do a little dance and release some of the energy before pulling myself together and walking over to calmly open the front door.
Did he always have to look so perfect?
He was wearing a pair of loose basketball shorts and a plain white t-shirt. His dark hair was cut short on the sides, but the longer parts on top were adorably mussed. There was an easy-going smile on his lips, but his dark blue eyes were piercing in their intensity. He had shaved recently, not a hint of stubble in sight.
Be still my heart, I thought as I stepped back to let him inside.
“Good morning, Layla,” he greeted with a grin. “Guess it’s just you and me today.”
“Lucky you.”
He laughed nervously and his eyes crinkled at the corners. God, he was so damn beautiful.
“Shall we?”
He gestured toward the hallway and I nodded, swaying my hips with a little more force than necessary as I led him down the hall to the room we typically held our sessions in. I never looked back to check—but I swore I could feel his eyes on my ass. It wasn’t a stretch to assume that he was staring considering how short my shorts were.
Besides, the photos lining the hallway weren’t nearly as interesting.
Mason started preparing the mats for the session and I went to the kitchen to get us both a cold bottle of water before we began. I also used the opportunity to let out another crazy-looking little dance before I returned.
I nearly dropped the water bottles when I got back to him. He had stripped off his t-shirt, revealing his perfectly formed six-pack and ridiculously toned arms. He wasn’t what I considered a
big guy, but he was very well-built for a man as lean as he was.
There was also no way in hell he got that ripped from just yoga.
I wanted to ask where he went to the gym just so I could go watch him sweat and possibly offer to lick it off his abs or anywhere else he might want my tongue.
I scoped out his body while I still had the chance and I took the time to look over the few tattoos scattered around his upper body. I wasn’t close enough to make them out, but Mason definitely had the bad boy look down pat.
But he was a yoga teacher, of all things. It was so weird, and yet so strangely Mason.
“It’s hot today,” he said nonchalantly as he shoved the shirt into his gym bag. He rose to his feet and turned to me, a serene smile on his lips. “Are you ready?”
“You have no idea.”
2
The lesson started the same as any other. Breathe in, breathe out. I let his velvety smooth voice guide me through the opening meditation until it was time to start with the stretches. He covered a few of the basics as a warm-up before moving on to more advanced moves.
We paired up to do a wide-angle seated forward bend together and I let out a long, slow breath as he leaned back while pulling my arms. I silently counted out each breath as we eased back into an upright position. As I stared at Mason’s lean body as he stretched forward, it was a struggle not to groan.
After we finished the seated poses, Mason asked me to stand up and go into triangle pose. While I stretched, Mason walked slowly around me, his intense eyes trained on my body. I smiled to myself when he lingered for an exceptional amount of time behind me. I hoped he was enjoying the view.
“Downward dog.”
I moved into position and breathed deeply as I bent. The breath caught in my throat when I felt his hands gently grasp my hips to steady me and I opened my eyes to find him guiding me deeper into the position.
“That’s very good.”
He abruptly cleared his throat and let go, leaving me to pout at the loss of his hands. I couldn’t deny how great yoga had been for my fitness since I started, but I had a feeling that Mason could do a hell of a lot more good for my body himself. If only he would—
“Are you up for trying wheel pose again?”
“I’m up for anything,” I said with a smile.
Mason let out a laugh that was even more nervous than before and gestured for me to get into position. He waited off to the side until I was on my back again before moving to stand in front of my head so that I could grab his ankles. He gently cradled my biceps while I arched my back up and I held my breath while I forced myself to hold the position.
Then his hands slid down to hold me just beneath my back. I knew he was only there as a safety net, but the warmth of his palms on my bare skin was driving me insane.
My mind was racing as I lowered myself to the floor. Did my outfit work? He had never touched me in such an intimate way before. If I had known that showing some skin was all it would take, I would have gotten inappropriate a long time ago.
“That was excellent, Layla,” he praised. “You’ve come a long way.”
Unfortunately, that was the end of the moves that required his assistance. He led me through another twenty minutes of poses and a calming meditation before it was time to end with a few light stretches.
I raised my eyebrows when he told me to lie on my back. He kneeled down beside my lower body and I swallowed hard, my eyes fluttering when he directed me to outstretch my arms to the sides while his hands caressed the underside of my thigh. He pushed my leg close to my chest and held it there.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked.
Considering how close his crotch was to my center—no. No, I was not comfortable.
Now if he lost his shorts and mine just happened to disappear as well…
I whimpered when his hands abandoned me and he sat back on his heels. Mason frowned as he did the other leg, watching my face closely for signs of discomfort until he was satisfied that I got a decent stretch. When he let go of my leg, I drew both my knees up on either side of him.
We were in a rather precarious position. If I dared to make the move—I could push his lower back with my foot and our pelvises would be flush together. He seemed to realize what I was thinking a moment later and he quickly moved out of the way.
I wasn’t fast enough to stifle my sigh of disappointment and Mason stiffened when he heard it. He turned to me, his mouth opening while his eyebrows furrowed, but he said nothing. His mouth snapped shut and he shook his head to himself.
“What?” I asked as I pushed myself up. “What’s with the look?”
“Nothing. There’s no look.”
He put the smile back on his face, but there wasn’t anything calm or easy-going about the expression. It was so obviously forced that I actually laughed. The fake smile faltered and Mason bristled. Cursing my inability to hold back the laugh, I cut him off before he had a chance to say anything.
“Would you like some water?” I politely asked as I held out the bottle I’d grabbed for him. He accepted with a half-smile and I waited until he was finished drinking before I asked, “What are your plans for the day?”
Mason shrugged. “This was my only appointment today. I might hit the gym later, but that’s pretty much it.”
“Do you want to have lunch with me?” He looked like he wanted to agree, but concern flashed in his eyes. I quickly added, “Mom won’t be home until… hell, probably tomorrow. She told me not to wait up for her.”
He crouched down to pull his shirt out of his bag. I pouted as his abs disappeared beneath the white cotton and said a silent farewell to them in my head.
“I don’t want to put you out or anything.”
I wish you would put out, I thought to myself with a smirk. But I wasn’t ready yet to make it that obvious. I’d spent eight damn months shooting for subtle for a reason. I didn’t want to throw myself at him unless it was absolutely necessary.
“I was thinking a sandwich or something. I wasn’t going to make you a five-course meal,” I said, smiling when he chuckled. “It’s really no trouble.”
“Then I’d love to,” he finally said, nodding to himself as he flashed me his perfect white teeth. “Let me wash up and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
As soon as he disappeared down the hall, I rushed to the kitchen and tried to calm my racing heart. I had hoped that my invitation would go over well, but the realistic part of my brain had expected him to politely decline. His acceptance threw me for a loop.
I stood in the kitchen and bit my lip as I mulled over what to do next. I nearly rolled my eyes at my own stupidity when I realized a good place to start would probably be with making the sandwich I had offered.
When I heard the bathroom door closing down the hall, I cursed under my breath and ran toward the pantry only to end up cursing again.
“What the fuck?” I muttered as I placed my hand on the empty shelf. “Where’s the—oh shit.”
“Something wrong?”
I jumped at the sound of Mason’s voice and turned around, my shoulders sagging with disappointment.
“Sorry. Mom’s on another ‘bread-is-evil’ kick and banned it from the house a few days ago,” I admitted with a sigh. “I thought she just meant she wasn’t going to buy any more, but it looks like she threw away everything we had.”
I waited for the metaphorical shoe to drop and for Mason to leave, but all he did was offer me a bright smile and come to my side to peek into the pantry closet. After scanning through what little food was left, he shook his head and laughed.
“I wish I could say I’m surprised, but knowing your mother even as little as I do—I’m totally not.” Mason stepped back and gestured for me to do the same before he added, “Let’s check the fridge.”
He made himself at home and searched the fridge while I took a quick look in the cabinets. Everything Mom deemed as unhealthy was gone and what was left was incredibly unappealing. Mason considered
it a victory to find a carton of eggs.
“Scrambled or fried?” he asked as I retrieved a skillet.
“You pick. I’m happy either way.”
Mason hummed to himself before deciding to fry them. I assisted by fetching things as he asked for them and we settled into a weirdly comfortable silence while the eggs cooked that was only broken when he asked, “How’s your friend doing?”
I frowned as I tried to figure out who he meant before it hit me like a load of bricks.
“You mean Ava?” I needlessly asked, waiting until he nodded his confirmation. “She’s great. You remember the guy who was here with her? Her bodyguard?”
“Unfortunately,” he muttered, apparently remembering the tense moment that passed between them during the one and only time they met.
“They’re engaged and have a kid on the way.”
His eyebrows raised high in surprise. “Seriously? How’d that happen?”
“It’s a long story. But Trent is a little less intimidating now that they’re together. He mellowed out a little, I guess. He’s still freakishly protective of her, though.”
Mason grunted. He obviously wasn’t fond of his memory of Trent which was why I was so surprised by what he said next.
“I get that. I imagine I’d be pretty protective of the future mother of my child as well.”
“Do you have any?”
“Kids? No.”
“That’s kind of surprising,” I said, carefully watching his reaction from the corner of my eye as I asked, “Any ex-wives?”
Mason chuckled and I knew he was on to me. To my relief, he played along and shook his head.
“Never got that far.” He concentrated on flipping the eggs before he spoke again. “What about you?”
“I don’t have any ex-wives, I’m afraid.”
Mason laughed even as he rolled his eyes. “Cheeky. I meant exes in general.” He turned my way, his eyes briefly scanning my body before he swallowed hard and turned his attention back to the pan. “You must have guys lining down the block.”
