He looked up, his eyes meeting mine. The usual arrogance and coldness had vanished, replaced by something far morepredatory. It was raw hunger, a dark desire that made my knees weak.
“Don’t,” he said. The word was a warning, but his voice lacked the steel to back it up.
“Don’t what?” I asked softly. My heart hammered against my ribs as I looked at him. His T-shirt was plastered to the hard, sculpted lines of his torso, the thin cotton doing nothing to hide the powerful physique beneath. I could see the sharp definition of his abs with every shallow breath he took.
His jaw tightened, a muscle leaping in his cheek, but his eyes betrayed the control he was trying to maintain. They darkened, swirling with a primal need.
“Don’t,” he repeated, the word falling like a plea he knew I would ignore.
I leaned in, the scent of his cologne and warm skin filling my senses. “Don’t what?”
The silence stretched, so thick I could hear nothing but the frantic thrumming of my own pulse. His gaze flickered to my lips, lingering there for a heartbeat before snapping back to mine. The tension finally snapped.
His hand flexed against the armrest, his knuckles white as he fought the urge to reach out. “Don’t make me want what I shouldn’t have.”
The confession hung in the air, intoxicating and dangerous. I swallowed hard, every nerve ending screaming for him to bridge the gap, to shatter the boundary he had just tried to draw.
"I'm your wife," I breathed, my voice trembling as he finally closed the distance. "What is stopping you?"
"Do you really want this... us?" He rasped, his face inches from mine.
"Yes," I whispered, not giving him a chance to finish the doubt.
He didn't let me say another word. His mouth crashed into mine with a desperate, starved energy. The kiss was deep and urgent, a collision of suppressed longing. I let out a soft moan as he hooked an arm around my waist, pulling me flush against his hard chest while pinning me back against the wall. His free hand slammed against the wall beside my head, grounding us as he tilted his face to drink deeper. His lips weren't gentle; they were the lips of a man who had been wandering a desert and had finally found water.
He pulled back for a fraction of a second, both of us gasping for air, before he surrendered again. He gripped my hair, tilting my head back to expose my throat, his touch a perfect balance of passion and agonizing restraint.
“Oh God, Saurav!” The cry escaped me as his hand slid downward, his touch searing through the thin fabric of my underwear.
“You want this, don't you, babe?” he honeyed-rasped against my skin, trailing his lips down the column of my neck. His kisses were no longer rushed; they were deliberate and worshipful. I gripped his damp hair, closing my eyes as a wave of heat crashed over me.
I had never felt anything like this. I had never been with a man, this was the uncharted territory of my soul.
With a low growl, Saurav swept me into his arms and carried me toward the bedroom. He laid me back against the pillows with surprising tenderness before shedding his clothes. In the dim light, he looked like a statue come to life.
“Turn around,” he commanded softly, his voice dripping with an effortless authority that made my pulse jump.
“I... I…”
“Turn around now,” he repeated, the softness of his tone belying the heat in his eyes.
I obeyed, my skin prickling as I felt his presence behind me. His hands were cool against my heated skin as he deftly untied the fastenings of my dress. He eased the straps down, letting the fabric pool around my waist.
“Wow,” he breathed, his warm breath ghosting over the nape of my neck. “You're more beautiful than I ever imagined, Kav.”
My breath caught as his hands moved forward, palming my breasts with a reverent touch. “So beautiful… ” His hand was rough yet gentle. “Look at yourself, Kav. Look at us.”
I looked into the large mirror across from the bed. The sight made my core ache. Saurav was behind me, his dark silhouette a stark contrast to my pale skin. One of his hands moved to my waist, pulling me back against him until I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered into my ear, his hand sliding lower, grazing the edge of my lace panties. “Do you want my hand there?”
I could only nod, my throat too tight for words. He slid his hand inside, and I whimpered as he began a slow, rhythmic torture. When he finally urged a finger inside, my breath left me in a rush.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice thick.
I shook my head, biting my lip to keep from crying out, my hands gripping his forearms to steady my shaking body.
“Do you want more?”