Dear All...
Thankyou... Thankyou... Thankyou... SOoo Much... for the care and love you all have showered... After, reading each and everyone's message, I couldn't hold myself from writing.. I owe, it you... I am much better now... So here is Part 17. I, myself felt like I am in an emotional train, when I wrote this part... Hope, it will reach your minds as well...
Recap:-
His heart begins to pound a bit faster… She quickly crossed her arm protectively over her chest. He lifted his gaze to hers… He looked her strained pallor, trembling of her soft mouth and he could see the quickened speed of her pulse beating at the side of her slender white neck. Tension throbbed between them. Her eyes dropped instinctively, avoiding his gaze. Somehow, he managed to get her dupatta without tearing it, pulled away and straightened back in a second…
He exhaled a pent up breath. He closed his eyes, slowly inhaled, trying to calm his frazzled nerves…
PART 17
Geet slowly got down from the car. She was too weak to look at Maan's face, afraid of what she will see there… She felt slightly dizzy…
'Woh, uh, I…. I'm sorry'. Maan stuttered.. 'I… well… I mean…'.
A sudden awkwardness sparkles around them, in the air… Daksh came and cling to his fingers..
'Dad, shall we go. I am hungry…'
'Huh… haa.. yes baby.'
Maan looked at Geet. She still kept her gaze down, he studies her in the slow thickening silence. He was afraid, whether she is mad at him.
'Geet, shall we?'.
'Huuh.. yaa.. Yes'. She raised her eyes to meet his eyes, and the instant he knew, 'She loved him, his mishti loved him'… with the same intensity he loved her… or even more… His eyes filmed with moist, his heart brimmed with happiness…
They, moved towards the restaurant area. As its weekend, the area was little crowded. Maan didn't leave Daksh's hands, for a moment. When they, entered to the main lobby, he brought her near drawing her shoulders. She suppressed a shiver as his fingers pressed against her back. She always used to love the way he touched her, loved his confidence and his ease in crowds, and above all his possessiveness over her. He moved them through the hotel lobby to the terrace restaurant, where they were seated at a window table, with the tall windows wide-open to capture the afternoon breeze.
They ate lunch—another expensive exercise—with Daksh full of excitement at being treated to his favourite fish and chips, prawn nuggets and a banana smoothie. He ate and drank with gusto, while Geet could barely swallow the chicken Caesar salad Maan had ordered for her, remembering it had been one of her favourite meals when they'd been going out together.
She didn't want those memories revived. It was hard enough, having to be with Maan all day, having to be agreeable for Daksh's sake, feeling forced to accept the Khurana largesse which was bound to have an insidious influence on Daksh.
At least the buying stopped with lunch. She drove them home and Maan spent the afternoon in the backyard with Daksh, setting up the goal, showing how to kick the soccer ball with the side of the foot, not the toe, practicing, dribbling the ball and demonstrating other skills that fascinated Daksh into trying to copy them. Soccer— was in Khurana's blood. They love it, over all other games, and were very passionate about it. All were good in it, and they held it as proudly as if, no other game exists before it.
It hurt to watch them—father and son—having fun together, chatting, laughing, cheering and clapping achievements. Daksh was having a great time, completely relaxed now with his new Dad, liking him and loving the different kind of attention he was getting. Male attention. Male understanding. Male activity. She felt engulfed by a sense of emptiness…
It brought home to Geet that no single parent could supply everything a child needed, no matter how well-balanced one tried to be. Better to have the input from both parents, if it could be given in harmony. And it had to be conceded Maan was delivering on his promises. So far.
At last the day was over, with Daksh bathed, fed, put to bed and enjoying the novelty of reading his father a story before lights out. Maan was astonished that his five-year-old son could actually read, and when they left Dakhs's bedroom, having kissed him goodnight, Geet found herself being forcibly steered back to the kitchen by Maan, instead of her intention to see Maan out of the front door.
'Let go of me!' she growled, resenting being denied a ready escape from the prolonged tension of his company. Still, her heart beats raised, thinking what happened in the afternoon.
'I just want to say thank you, Geet,' he said reasonably, releasing her arm once he'd accomplished his purpose of regaining territorial advantage.
She stepped away quickly, moving to put the small kitchen table between them, instinctively rubbing at the heat he'd left on her skin. He frowned at the action but she'd didn't care if he found it offensive. He had no right to touch her, to use his dominant strength to get his own way.
'I don't want you frightened of me,' he said in sharp concern.
'Then please leave. You've had your day. You've said thank you. There's no reason for you to stay any longer.'
He shook his head, still frowning. 'Did I do something wrong with Daksh?'
'No!. He had a happy first day with you.'
He raised his hands in a gesture of appeal. 'So why can't we talk about it?'
'What do you want? My stamp of approval?' she snapped, screaming inside for him to go because any more of him today was unbearable. She'd had to hold in so much for Daksh's sake, pretending she was pleased for him to have his father, giving Maan the freedom to court his son, while all the time feeling that the little world she had constructed was under terrible attack.
Instead of answering, Maan eyed her with searching intensity, looking for the reason behind her hostile stance. 'Geeet…Is it really so hard to share him with me?' he asked in the soft tone that stripped her of defences.
She gripped the back of a chair, trying to hold herself together. Tears were welling—tears of emotional exhaustion—and the lump in her throat made it difficult to speak.
'You've won him over,' she pushed out. 'It's done. Please…just go now. Let yourself out.'
Her eyes blurred and she swung blindly around, stepping over to the sink, frantically turning on the taps so as to look busy, though there was nothing to wash, only a glass that had already been rinsed. She didn't hear Maan move, didn't even sense him closing in on her. Her whole concentration was aimed at not breaking up before he went.
It shocked her when his hand reached out and turned off the taps. Her fingers didn't have the strength to resist when the glass was taken from them and placed on the draining rack. Her mind was completely seized up, incapable of directing any action. Her body could have been that of a rag doll's as Maan turned her towards him, wrapping her in a supportive embrace, holding her, pressing her head onto his shoulder, rubbing his cheek against her hair with a tenderness that broke open the floodgates to the tears she'd tried so hard to contain.
The storm of weeping was draining, reducing her to such a helpless state; she couldn't find the pride that might have dragged her away from him. His broad shoulder was there to lean on. His warmth and strength was like a blanket of comfort. And it had been a long, long time since anyone had held her, emitting a sense of caring.
That it was Maan didn't seem to matter. In fact, the familiarity of past intimacy between them somehow made it easy to sag against his body. It didn't feel strange or wrong. There was a sense of belonging that she simply didn't have the will to fight, however false it might be.
Eventually the tears dried up, leaving her aching from the emotional upheaval and limp from all the energy spent. She became conscious of Maan's fingers gently raking through her hair and realised he must have removed the clip at the back of her neck, releasing and loosening the long flow of it—a liberty—but she didn't mind. It felt good.
'Geeet—' her name gravelled from his throat as though scraping over painful barriers '—I'm not trying to win Daksh from you. Please believe that.'
She closed her eyes and dragged in a deep breath, needing to fill her lungs with air, ease the ache in her chest. She felt too tired to speak. Her mind didn't want to take up the fight over trust. It was too hard.
'You're his mother,' Maan went on, a deeper, strong throb in his voice—a throb that somehow moved into her sluggish bloodstream and revived all the maternal feelings in her heart.
'You've done a wonderful job of bringing up our son. You can be very proud of the boy he is…the boy you've shaped him to be…'
The warmth of his approval flooded through her.
'I don't know how to thank you…doing it all alone. He's amazing. A happy child, well-mannered, eager to have a go at everything, and reading at his young age…'
He sounded so awed, a smile tugged at the corners of Geet's mouth. She was proud of Daksh. Justly proud. And she was glad Maan felt she had done a good job of bringing up their son.
'If you've been thinking I might take him away from you, I swear to you I won't, Geet. That was never my intention. And seeing how he is today…why would I want to? Daksh couldn't have a better mother. So please…don't be afraid of me.'
She didn't want to be. But even if he truly meant what he said now…she stirred herself to raise her head, open her eyes, look straight at him, and speak her fears.
'Today…Daksh was a novelty to you and you were a novelty to Daksh. It won't stay that way. You may not be able to give him so much quality time and if Daksh feels let down by you…'
'I'll do my best not to let him down.'
'Things change, Maan. Other people can interfere…'
'No! Not this time Geet.' The resolute gleam in his eyes suddenly burned into something else entirely. His eyes changed. He examined her face for a long moment, his gaze seeming to memorize her before, he leaned his head closer, dropping his voice to a mere whisper, he continued… 'And some things don't change.' His voice was vibrant with his yearning…. His pupils dilated…
Raw desire was blazing at her, furring his voice, stunning her into mesmerised passivity. Her hands were pressed against his chest but she didn't think to push away. Some magnetic force kept them glued there. She didn't think to move her head aside, either, though his was bending closer and closer, his intention unmistakable. She was conscious only of a thundering need to let it happen…to know, to feel, to match the memory… to be in his arms...
'Maaan... No...'. She tried weakly to avoid, the undeniable... but her voice trailed off, before it reached him...
He pulled her still more tightly against him, crushing to him from shoulders to hip. He saw the tears shimmering in her magnificent eyes and one of them traced unheeded down her smooth cheek… With a raw ache in his voice, he said— 'Remember how it was, Geet? The precious love we had for each other… Can't you give me a chance Geet, Can't you help me find a way to forgive myself…'. Tortured by her tears, he clasped her tighter and rubbed his jaw against her temple, his voice a ravaged whisper: 'I am sorry Mishti', he told her. He cupped her face between his palms, tipping it up and gazing into her eyes, his thumbs moving her wet cheeks, and slowly fanning the line of her lower lip, making it tingle. 'I am sorry…I am damned sorry!' Slowly, he bent his head, slanting his mouth over hers in a smooth glide, deliberately light and teasing, he covered her mouth with his, to take her into a life of glorious sensuality…
Geet shuddered, her breath slipping over his lips with a soft moan… The temptation to respond was irresistible. The desire to feel again what she'd once felt with him surged out of the sense of having been betrayed of it, cut off as though she was dead, through no fault of her own. But she wasn't dead. It was as if every cell in her body was springing into vibrant life, screaming out for what had been lost. She wanted it back—the all-consuming passion they'd shared… A torrent of feelings pumped through her, driving her out of passivity, long-buried needs rising, demanding… She couldn't hold back herself, to once again taste the love they shared…
He kissed her with all the aching… longing… of their years of separation. He kissed her, in all the ways he had ever kissed her. Then there was no need of words, for all his passion and longing was in the depth of his kiss…Her open mouth was too helpless and unguarded. He knew this, and his first kiss was very gentle, and soft, and assuring, so assuring. So that her soft, defenseless mouth became assured, even bold, seeking upon his mouth. And he answered her gradually, his soft kiss sinking in softly, but ever more heavily feeling faint with joy when she began to kiss him back, his mouth moving with fierce tenderness, then opening with fiery demand over hers…
Drawing her closer, he slowly traced down his hands…. The touch of his hand upon her neck sent shivers down her body, and her body suddenly grew very steamy. His fingers traced the curve of her shoulder and trailed down to trace the curve of her ample br*****. He spread his other hand, over her back, tracing the indent of her spine. He wanted to kiss all the way down it. He stroked… and felt her responsive shiver, and knew he had her permission…
He nibbled her neck just behind her ear, while he trailed his hand possessively over the curve of her waist, the flare of her hip. 'Geeet… Ohhh how much I missed you in my arms baby….' She moaned as his arms slid around her waist and his lips skated across her ear, as he whispered words of want and love and need. Her breath caught in her throat and refused to return to normal. Her heart rhumbaed, salsaed, and slow-grooved in her chest, igniting an erratic flow of blood to her body parts. She gasped, when he paused at the base of her throat, and stretched her neck to give him better access. He teased and nibbled in the sweet hollow he found there… She loosened her grip on his arms, rubbed her hand up and down, around his neck, and into his hair, ruffling it. Her fingers massaged his scalp with a sensuality that made his moan.
His hands reached to undo the dori of her kurti… He knees gave way entirely… and unable to take anymore, she leaned her head against his shoulders. 'Geeet I love you… and you love me. I can feel it when you are in my arms… '. He felt her stiffen slightly, and draw a shaky breath, but she either couldn't or wouldn't speak… She hadn't thrown the words back in his face, however, so Maan continued talking to her in between his kisses… arousing her… clouding her senses with his lips …
His fingers traced the neck line of her kurti, and moved down her neck, pushing the sleeve of her dress aside as he kissed her shoulder… and eased the material away from her shoulders, letting it fall to her chest… In the dim light he could see the creamy swell of her br****s. He traced wet patterns with his lips along her collarbone... and still down to the swell of the top of her br****s. Maan fought the overwhelming urge to make love to her again… make her only his… He knew, he couldn't… not yet. It took all ounce of his willpower to hold himself back.
'I need you Geet… I want you… I can't be without you… his whisper grazed her skin, sending even more shivers along her spine. 'I want to share your tender heart…the warmness of your smile… the courage of your wisdom… I need your tender loving care…. your scolding… your whispers to my lips… your endless words to share…. I want to kiss away your pain… to hold your warm body against mine… to melt away my anger… and to be together, to an endless days and endless nights… to hold you in my arms, and kiss each other, every dawn and dusk… To walk hand in hand with you all eternity…
'Maaan…' her voice trembled, and the tears she'd been holding back filled her eyes and her throat… He crushed her body to his strong one and holded her as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, feeling his hot tears fall onto her skin, she held him close to her, stroking his hair… brushing her lips against his temple as her own tears fell into his hair…for all his pain and guilt…
Until, their heart beats captured in the same rhythm, feeling same love and peace….
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So, that was about, Part 17. How was it... As I said at first, did it reach your all hearts, or it was only my imagination of an emotional turmoil... Tell me... I am waiting for your all responses... as this part, i felt it, too much close to my heart... I don't know why?. May be, because I am weak.. Still... Let me know... only you people can tell me, so COMMENT... AND HIT THE LIKE, IF YOU LIKE IT...
R.I.T.H.I.K.A
Jhanak
Tum Se Tum Tak
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