His tiny Chirraiyya was being missed. TERRIBLY. And it was for more than a week now. He could feel her levels of stress through their phone conversations. She was tired ... And so he packed his bag to go and meet his unwell Mother-In-Law ...
So its Ri & Kara in Bareilly! Happy Reading Ji!
MATE
She hurried to the sink to snatch a dishtowel from a hook, then slung it over her shoulder. "Here ... half in the wash pot, half in the rinse. She stepped back, allowing him just enough room to pour. Vapor rose like a cloud of mist, delivering the faint scent of the citrus dishwasher liquid to her nostrils. His powerful back strained as he poured, his shirt pulling tightly across broad shoulders. He turned, pot in hand, dwarfing her with his height. "More?
She swallowed hard. Her chin tilted up to meet his eyes. "More?
A faint smile flickered at the edge of his lips. "Water. You said you like it hot.
Blood surged to her cheeks. "I ... no, that's fine. Just fine. She staggered back, lightheaded. Settle down, Gauri. He's just a man.
She took a deep breath and turned, patting the back of the nearest chair. "Why don't you just sit and keep me company while I do the dishes?
He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, assessing her with hooded eyes. "Why? Too close for comfort?
She blinked, and her lips parted in surprise. Ignoring the heat in her cheeks, she jutted her chin. "No. Is it for you?
He grinned. A reckless gleam shone in his eyes. "You wash, I'll dry.
Gauri took a deep breath and moved toward the sink, confusion and euphoria battling in her brain. She tried to focus on the task at hand, but her thoughts were tripping faster than the beat of her heart. What was he doing? It was as if his favorite 'Glukoj biscoot waali chaai' had unleashed the rogue in him. He was baiting her, teasing her ... disarming her. This was his idea of helping her?
She drew in a deep breath and sliced her hands into the warm water, scouring plates like a madwoman before plunging them into the rinse. Fishing them out once again, she didn't bother shaking them off, just slapped one on top of another in a sloppy clatter, water sluicing onto the counter. After several silent moments, she tilted her head to chance a peek out of the corner of her eye. "You're not drying.
He gauged her through half-lidded eyes. "And you're not washing; you're drowning.
Her chuckle cleaved to her throat when he lowered his gaze to her mouth. The breath in her lungs shallowed, drifting out in short, raspy breaths. "You're still not drying, she whispered.
He moistened his lips, then slowly lifted his eyes to hers. "I need this. His fingers skimmed across the towel on her shoulder, causing the air to still in her throat.
Dear God, what was happening? It was as if he had no control over his hand as it strayed from the towel to the soft curve of her neck. A tilt of her head, the blush of her cheeks, and suddenly he was two different men. One whose every muscle, thought and desire strained toward wanting her. The other, a distant voice of conscience and memory, quickly fading with every throb of his renegade pulse. Curse the effect of the biscoot infused evening tea. What else could explain this driving insanity pulsing through him right now? His fingers burned as they lingered, slowly tracing to the hollow of her throat. Against his will, A smile fixated on his lips, lush and full, staggered at the heat they generated. What was he doing? He didn't want this.
Yes ... he did.
All night he'd felt it mounting, a desire in his abdomen that grew tight at the sound of her laughter, the lift of her chin, the light in her eyes. A woman with cool confidence around everyone but him. Call it the Hot bevarage. Or the fact he hadn't been this close to a woman ever. Emotionally invested. Or the intoxicating awareness that his very presence seemed to unnerve her. Whatever name it bore, it had him by the throat, taking him places he'd vowed he'd never be.
She blinked up at him, eyes wide and wondering. He was taking her by surprise and knew it. But no more so than him. He stared at her lips, feeling the draw and unwilling to fight it. His fingers moved up her throat to gently cup her chin, his eyes burning with intent. Slowly, carefully, he leaned forward, his mouth finally reaching hers, his breathing ragged as he tasted her lips.
A soft mew left her throat, and the sound ignited him. He pulled her close, his mouth demanding hers. She moaned while he pressed her to the counter, holding her there as he deepened the kiss. With a deep groan, his arms swallowed her up, drawing her small frame tightly against his. He pressed his lips to her hair, allowing her scent to flood his senses ... to consume him.
Just like before.
His heart seized. What was he doing? The more he touched, the more he wanted. He was able to feel his husband like authority now.
Mannat Har Khushi Paane Ki
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