About Last Night**THREAD 1**PART 1-15** - Page 90

Originally posted by: Inked

It occurred to Arnav Singh Raizada that Khushi seemed to only kiss him when there were witnesses present.

Part 15

Khushi couldn't wait to share the news of Arnav's generous gift with Payal. Payal would agree this was exactly the tonic that Bauji required. The doctors maintained that his full and complete recovery was only a matter of time and will, and what more incentive did a man require than knowing that his home and business waited for him? Arnav--a man who placed high value on work--had understood this better than anyone, she realized. She glanced at her husband, pride and gratitude bursting in her chest. How will I contain so much happiness in my one small heart, she sighed.

When they returned to Raizada House, Akaash and Payal were standing near the entrance. Akaash was on the phone. When he saw them enter, he ended the call and said, "I was just calling you, Bhai."

"What's wrong?" Arnav asked with a touch of alarm in his tone.

"Nothing. Everyone is out this evening, leaving the four of us on our own for dinner," he explained. "Thought we could go to Mandarin Oriental for Chinese."

Khushi met Arnav's eyes. He tilted his head, as if to ask, "yes?"

She nodded eagerly with a smile.

"We'll go change," Arnav said and pulled her towards the staircase.

When Khushi came out of the shower, Arnav was waiting outside the bathroom. He pressed a saree into her hand and advised, "we leave in fifteen minutes", and then stepped into the bathroom. Once the door was safely closed, Khushi wrinkled her nose. This saree was the only one he had delivered to her that she did not like. Granted it was a polished silk of exquisite quality, but the colour was a dull grey and there was absolutely no embellishment. Where was the Chamkili quotient? This is exactly the sort of boring saree that fashion houses like AR Group charge gullible wealthy patrons an exorbitant price for, she said to Lakshmi who had wandered into the room. She draped the saree, and then sat down to apply some makeup. She decided to wear the dangling diamond earrings that she had worn at Holi, and as they were quite impressive, she decided to let her mangalsutra, kangans and ring be the only other jewellery. She decided at a second glance that the colour did look well on her. It had a subtle shimmer that brought out her eyes. She was just applying a crystal bindi when she heard Arnav open the bathroom door. To indicate that she was ready before the stipulated fifteen minutes, she rose hastily from the stool to fetch her silver sandals from the wardrobe.

They collided. She reached out to steady herself, and her hands grasped at warm muscular arms. Khushi looked up and saw that the warmth in question was her husband in front of her in a pair of dark jeans slung dangerously low on his hips--and nothing more. His hair was damp, his skin was also damp--and he was radiating enough damp heat to power a rain forest. She had never seen him shirtless, and though she tried to not become adolescent about the matter, she was aware that a few beads of perspiration were setting her face aglow.

Arnav Singh Raizada--beneath his buttoned-up vests and buttoned-up manners--was rather...uhmm...beautiful. His chest was broad without being bulky. And, his waist was narrow with a well-muscled abdomen. Khushi's eyes lingered a bit too long on his abdomen, and in realizing this, she coloured and bit the corner of her lip. She stepped to the side mumbling something about needing her sandals. He opened the wardrobe and handed her the sandals. He then pulled on a casual V-neck sweater the colour of sky. To Khushi, he became in that instant the epitome of perfect maleness. Every man, if at all possible, should strive to look exactly like my husband, she decided.

While she was studying him, he had apparently been studying her.

"Where do you keep the jewellery I've sent," he was asking her.

Khushi pointed to the end of the wardrobe where the boxes were piled up. Suspecting that he was going to adjust her look, she frowned, glancing at herself in the mirror. "I think these earrings look nice," she spoke in her own defense.

He was rifling though the boxes until he discovered what he was seeking, and withdrew a large slim box. "Wear this," he said, placing the box in her hands.

She didn't remember that particular box. It must have arrived in the early days after their wedding, when she had been too furious with him to care about the packages he had had delivered. Khushi opened it now, and nestled on the white satin lining rested a diamante hip belt. It was stunning--narrow, discreet but still stunning.

"Downstairs in two minutes," he instructed, popping his phone in his jean pocket, and giving her one last full body survey before leaving the room.
Pukka Laad Governor!

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Khushi was enchanted with the rooftop restaurant. Coloured lanterns by the hundreds, in all sizes, were draped along the perimeter. The tables were lit with more tiny paper lanterns, and it seemed like the perfect day had just got more perfect.

Away from the house and the whole family, she noticed how at ease Akaash and Payal were with each other. Payal quietly teasing her husband; Akaash attentive and doting upon his wife. She realized that in the past ten days, she had been too self-absorbed in her own dramatic marriage to notice that they had transformed from a besotted pair into a real married couple. It pleased her to see their happiness. Was it possible that both the Gupta girls had met their respective prince? She was grateful that the dim lantern lights hid the tears that formed in her eyes.

The food arrived and the Raizada men took it upon themselves to educate the Gupta girls on the proper usage of chopsticks. Payal managed in no time, but Khushi struggled, laughing at her own sorry skill.

"I'll starve at this rate," she said to Arnav, as she nibbled awkwardly on a noodle that was in danger of falling into a lantern. He confiscated her chopsticks, and took on the task of feeding both her and himself with his set.

Mr. and Mrs. Raizada were oblivious to the looks they received from other diners. Some sighed wistfully at the epitome of young love. Others felt this should be done behind closed doors. And the remainder decided that they too would rekindle their marriage by feeding their partner when opportunity next presented itself.

They cleared her plate, and his, and some more. Khushi finally said, "enough" and refused to accept another morsel.

He repeated, "enough?" his eyebrow lifting suggestively.

She nodded shyly transfixed by the audaciousness in his tone.

"Sure?" he pressed. She felt Arnav's hand slide low on her hips, and tug firmly at the belt, so that it cut into her flesh. It sent a delicious shiver up her spine. She looked at him, her mouth parting. He said nothing. It was this nothing that spoke volumes. It asked. It declared. It affirmed.

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How do I show him I'm ready?

AM I ready? What am I to say?

Khushi had worried over questions of this nature all during the drive home. She and Payal had shared the back seat, and Khushi had caught Arnav watching her in the rear view mirror several times. She had sensed he was reading her mind. She feared that he would read her hesitancy as reluctance.

When they entered the house, Hariprakash handed him an envelope delivered by messenger while they were out. He explained it was related to an early morning meeting tomorrow and he needed to quickly review it. He urged her to go upstairs ahead of him.

She sat at the stool in front of the mirror brushing out her hair, wishing he had not left the decision to proceed in her hands. How could she possibly make the first move? Yet, if she did not, he would interpret it as unwillingness to move forward with their marriage. He has put me in an impossible situation! "So unfair," she lamented. So deep was her self-pity that she failed to realize that she had spent fifteen minutes brushing her hair, and that her husband had entered the room, closed the doors and was now lazily leaning against them, keenly observing her reflection in the mirror.

When she became aware of this, the hairbrush slipped out of her fingers and crashed to the floor. She rose to pick it up and placed it on the vanity table, breaking eye contact with him.

"Come here," he commanded, without moving or extending his hand. It was not a request. She turned slowly and walked to him, feigning more courage than she actually felt. When she neared him, he reached out, placed his hand on the curve of her waist, and pulled her close to him. His hands, his palms, his fingertips caressed her from ribcage, over her tummy and to where the hip belt rested. His eyes did not meet hers, but rather followed the movement of his hands, examining her. His touch was thorough, his fingers leaving a scorching trail. She touched his hands as they moved over her form. It seemed her breath was caught somewhere in her chest cavity and though her lips parted, she couldn't quite exhale. "Remove this," he said tugging at her saree pleats. Her hands did as she was told. She wasn't even cognizant of how and when the saree fell to the floor. It made a soft sound. Or did she make that sound?

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Arnav Singh Raizada was lying.

He told himself that he would touch her briefly, and then he would step away. Only one kiss! Then he would stop, he perjured himself. He caught her face in his hands, and tilted it so he could press his mouth against those ripe lips. Her mouth softly parted beneath his--yet, he still told himself he was fully in control. He slanted his mouth across hers, applying gentle pressure. Her lips kissed him back.

Just a taste, he begged. His tongue touched her lips. Someone groaned. He suspected it has himself. He had to taste her more fully. His tongue entered her mouth, and she yielded to the invasion. The more she yielded, the more he took. It was not how he wanted to initiate her, but it was beyond him now. He bruised her lips. Sucked her tongue. Teeth met teeth. He demanded more--and she gave it.

Somewhere in this, they got turned around, and his lower body pressed her against the door. Her head knocked on the frame. He halted. Broke the kiss. Looked down at her upturned face. Her eyes fluttered open. She touched his face and this time she took his mouth. He cradled her head so it was buffered, and allowed her to explore him as he had enjoyed her. She was thorough. He had never experienced a more erotic kiss. It shook him to his core. She softly bit his lips exciting his response. Then pulled away from the kiss. But, he didn't allow it. She made him chase her tongue as their mouths re-joined.

By their own volition, his hands moved up her back and pulled at the ties on her blouse. This time she broke the kiss--and looked at him. The naked desire he saw in her eyes made his hands tremble.

"Say yes," he urged.

But, he didn't wait for her response.

He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed, placing her in the middle at a diagonal. He then stood next to it and kicked off his shoes, his eyes never leaving her. She lifted onto her elbows to watch him remove his sweater. He tossed it aside, and said, "your turn."

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