Back on her mat, Carli led the group through a vinyasa and back into a sitting relaxation pose, eyes closed, where she cheated and watched Niall with impunity. He was beautiful, sitting there, the morning sun working to soften his tense jawline, to coax him out of himself, and adding a golden hue to his days’ old scruff. She doubted he’d shaved since leaving Australia. The rough look suited him. It suited her too. She’d take out a subscription to view that.
‘How was that for you?’ she asked him as they wrapped up. ‘The session,’ she added, then inwardly kicked herself. Obviously the session. They hadn’t had sex, although part of it was close to foreplay.
‘Aye,’ was all Niall said.
‘Aye?’ The word sounded silly coming out of Carli. It wasn’t made for an Australian accent.
‘Aye, it was good,’ he added. ‘You… It helped me relax a bit. Parts of it anyway.’ The corner of his mouth quirked knowingly.
‘You are tense,’ Carli agreed, attempting to bypass the sexual undertones. ‘Yoga could be what you need.’
‘I am, and you could be right.’
‘I’m impressed by how you opened yourself up to the breathing. You could easily have stayed closed off, but you didn’t.’
‘Being here’ – Niall nodded to the sea – ‘makes me tense. The ocean makes me sad, but I don’t want to be like this forever.’
‘You won’t be. And I am here if you ever want a friend to talk to.’ Niall was weighed down and maybe what he needed more than anything was someone to listen. She could do that. ‘And if you want to do any more yoga,’ she added, ‘I’d be happy to do some sessions with you. It’s great for overall wellbeing.’
Niall turned his gaze from the water to Carli. ‘You’d do that?’
She nodded. ‘Sure. I can tell you’re hurting, so I’d like to help ease that.’ Carli could hardly believe the words coming out of her mouth. Was that dangerous? That she’d put his needs before her own? This man she was so helplessly drawn to.
‘Och, it’s alright, Cass. It’s not your job to fix me. It wouldn’t be fair of me to place expectations on you. You should be spending your time here relaxing, catching up with the family and enjoying yourself. The name on the party invite said Niall, not “Project Niall”.’
The ocean roared in Carli’s ears and through her blood, pumping her pulse harder. The more he protested, the more she wanted to help him. Fuck. How many days had she managed to resist Niall? Three?
Hell, why not get a t-shirt made up with Project Niall emblazoned over the back of it and walk about town, showing everyone how you feel? Oh, wait, why bother when even a blind man could pick that up? You need to sort yourself out, Caselli, because you are travelling down a road to trouble.
Chapter 11
Niall
Niall stood in the shower, the warm waterfall washing away the sand from this morning’s beach yoga session. The one thing it wasn’t dissipating was his hard-on. He would have to see to that. Carli Caselli was the yoga instructor to end all yoga instructors. She was the yoga instructor to end him.
He’d been awake since four – jet lag was a killer, but Carli had kicked that to the kerb. Well and truly. Her hands on his stomach.They may as well have been inches lower, the effect she had on him. How he’d managed to keep himself down, he had no idea. He was making up for it now, hard as flint.
Niall reached for his cock and pumped gently at first.
Oh Cass.
As he worked himself into a lather, she claimed the territory of his mind. She didn’t want him, but he was alone now so why fight it? He’d spent a torturous hour on the beach doing that. How had she looked so radiant after the same journey and events he had experienced over the past two days? By rights, she should have bed head and muddledbrain like him, but all he saw standing on the sand was poise, grace and effortless beauty as he floundered down the dunes, unkempt and unshaven, clasping his beach towel like a kid on the first day of a summer holiday. He had, at least, brushed his teeth.
Niall longed for Carli to be here with him in the shower. She could stand behind him again, breathing in and out, the warm whispers of her breath hot on his neck, sending heat straight to his groin. Did she do that for all her clients? How did they cope? Touching his abs. The counting. One, two, three… Niall pumped harder. Imagined turning around and crashing his mouth into hers and kissing her right there on the beach in front of Celia and her friend and that bloke from the distillery. No, they weren’t in this fantasy. Go away. Just him and Carli and an empty beach. Her behind him. Hands all over him. Was she serious thinking that touching him like that would relax him? Sure, it made parts of him looser, but other bits were at risk of moving in the opposite direction. Thankfully he’d been wearing sweatpants.
He’d had to push the thoughts down, like his enthusiastic dick, which was so keen to show her what she’d done to it, hint at what it – he – could do to her. There would be no flashing open of his eyes, swinging round and kissing Carli. No ripping off that skin-skimming Lycra top with her nipples pointing through it – yes, he’d seen her rubbing them afterwards to hide their puckered points – and taking her there on the beach. There would be none of that, or even getting aroused, in the presence of a bloke and two nice old ladies who were the living, breathing social media of the village, shooting gossip round faster than fibre optic.
Except here and now in his mind there could be, and he made sure there was, as he thrust up and down his shaft,thinking of Carli naked and gasping for him on the sand. Jesus. He was a wanton mess for this woman.
Niall leaned against the tiles and rubbed himself ragged until arousal was spurting out of him in a silent roar as he came all over the en-suite shower in his brother’s house.
‘Fuck, Cass,’ he whispered into the tiles.How is it possible to be this gone for her already?
With the blood flow problem dealt with, Niall could consider other aspects of the yoga session. Namely, the actual aim: to help him be more zen or something.
What surprised him was that, despite Carli plastering her hands all over him and making him horny as a gnarled tree trunk, once he found a stable rhythm and stuck with it, and once she stopped touching him, the breathing did help sideline those thoughts. Maybe the best level of concentration in a yoga class came from trying your hardest not to get a hard-on.
When Carli asked him how he was feeling, Niall had to admit that he was more relaxed. In no way had his problems disappeared, but physically he’d improved since before yoga. Knowing that she understood some of what was on his mind helped ease the lonesome weight of his worries. He had told no one else, not even any of his siblings, about his guilt at Rafe’s dying and thinking that Rafe was a better person than him. He was carrying around a hundred tonnes of grief and guilt and self-recrimination.
