Prologue

"I want you," she whispered, her voice husky with desire.

He didn't need to be told twice. With a growl, he pulled her close, his lips crashing down on hers in a passionate kiss. She melted against him, her body molding to his as they explored each other's mouths with their tongues.

"Make love to me," she pleaded.

He didn't hesitate. He scooped her in his arms and carried her to bed, laying her down, with gentle care. He stretched out beside her, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin as he kissed her neck, her collarbone, and her lips.

She let out a soft moan as his skilled fingers found the buttons on her blouse, slowly undoing them one by one. She helped him slip the garment off her shoulders, revealing her lacy bra. His breath hitched as he took in the sight of her, his eyes dark with desire.

He trailed kisses down her neck, making his way to her breasts. She arched her back, offering herself to him as he took a hard nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing it through the fabric of her bra. She ran her fingers through his hair, holding him close as he worshipped her body.

And with an ease, he unhooked her bra.

___________________________________

Ved and Seher.

Their names, for as long as anyone could remember, were synonymous with childhood. Seher literally gre up in the Singh household. She was already present for their big and small celebrations and Ved hated it. He hated her.

Or so he told himself.

From the time they were clumsy children, sharing a crayon box, much to Ved's despair, Seher had been a constant. An ever-present, infuriatingly kind shadow. While Ved wrestled with his temper and the weight of his family's expectations, Seher navigated the world with unwavering grace, her laughter a bright, tinkling counterpoint to his brooding silence. She was sunshine; he was a storm cloud. And for as long as he could remember, she had chosen to orbit him.

He always pushed her away relentlessly. Taunted her with cruel words, ignored her outstretched hand, actively sought out ways to make her uncomfortable. Logically, anyone else would have retreated. But Seher, bless her naive heart, just kept coming back. She even shared secrets with him even if she knew he wouldn't care.

Then, last night, the meticulously drawn lines had blurred into a chaotic, unrecognizable mess.

The accidental brush of skin, the hesitant exploration, the sudden, desperate need that had consumed them both. He had pulled her close, a frantic hunger rising within him, and she hadn't resisted. In fact, she had met his intensity with a fervor that both shocked and ignited him.

Was it love, or merely the wildfire of lust, roaring through years of unspoken tension? In the hushed aftermath, the answer felt miles away, shrouded in an uncomfortable silence that stretched between their bodies.

Now, the reality of their actions was suffocating. Had it been a momentary lapse in judgment, fueled by too much wine? Or was it a glimpse into a hidden truth, a dark, twisted desire beneath the facade of hatred?

He had always told himself that he hated Seher. An obligation, a nuisance, a constant reminder of a past he preferred to forget. But last night, the walls around his heart had crumbled, revealing a landscape he didn't know existed.

And in the wreckage, a chilling question echoed in the silence: Was this a one-time thing, or was this just the beginning of something dangerous?

As Ved watched Seher lying naked on his chest, the question lingered: Was this it? Was this the grand unveiling of his long-held obsession? Or was it merely the opening act? Because he wanted more of her, and he knew he would not get enough of her.

The lines between friendship and desire, past and present, have not just been crossed; they have been irrevocably blurred, entangled beyond recognition.