Good girl? Did Rian Shetty just call me a good fucking girl?Heat bloomed across her body and all she could do was stare at him like a mute fool while he entered a voice note reminder for himself on his cell.
“Go sleep. I’m off to the restaurant. I’ll be there to pick you up later.”
7
Dreams
Aditi
Listen to me, sheheard his deep voice murmur. Roughened fingers glided over her skin, brushing up and down her body. Aditi turned towards him, searching for his warmth. She gasped when his weight held her down, keeping her still.
His touch turned teasing, soft then hard, never quite long enough to give her relief. Warm lips followed where his fingers left a trail, scorching a path lower and lower. Her body twisted, need blazing through her as her legs splayed open.
Please, she begged, her back arching when his lips found their destination. Pleasure crashed over her, immediate and intense.
Rian! she screamed.
Aditi awakened, her eyelids fluttering as consciousness rushed in like an uninvited guest.
Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the ceiling fan that was circling above, failing to cool her down from the searing heat of her dream.
She raised a shaking hand to her chest, feeling her heart beat like a bass drum. Her thighs rubbed together when she recollected the reason for her increased heart rate, the dampness between her legs and the pulsing ache—a clear reminder of unfulfilled desires and incomplete cravings.
Good girl.His warm baritone washed over her once more and she almost moaned when her pussy clenched automatically. She touched one hand to her cheek, certain that she was red.
Aditi had sat at the kitchen counter for a good ten minutes after Rian had left that morning, trying to coax circulation back into her shaky legs. His touch, his words, and his authoritative behaviour had sent her mind into overdrive.
Well, crap. Clearly, the attraction she’d previously felt for him had turned into a full-blown crush, which was awful because that was all it could be.
A crush.
That first night after he’d returned, she’d heard Rian’s vehement insistence on remaining unwed. Despite liking him far more than any of the other men she’d met so far, she wasn’t foolish enough to assume she could change his mind.
She had been fine with the slowly budding friendship between them, but the more she got to know him, the harder it was to ignore his allure.
“It's just a crush. A stupid, silly crush,” she muttered to herself, trying to forget the heat of his hand when he held hers, the scent of his cologne invading her senses. “It’ll go away, Adi. Just focus on finding a man to marry instead of letting Rian distract you.”
Mind made, she rolled into a burrito within her soft sheets and valiantly attempted to fall asleep once more, praying that this time she would not be interrupted by frisky dreams of hunky men who had no business making her want things she couldn’t have.
Aditi slapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a yawn as she walked beside Rian, the noise of the evening market surrounding them.
“Did you not listen to me and go to sleep?” Rian frowned at her.
“I tried,” she grumbled, silently blaming him for her predicament. “Had some dreams.”
“Bad ones?” he asked sympathetically, directing her down a crowded path.
Her lips twisted in the semblance of a rueful grin. “Worse. Unattainable ones.”
At his curious look, she shrugged, not wanting to delve further into the topic. She turned in a slow spin, her eyes skimming over the crowds, noticing vendors calling for passing customers and people perusing the many items out on display. It was loud, colourful, and chaotic, and Aditi loved it. She adored the buzzing energy of outdoor shopping markets in India. For a curious woman like her, a bazaar such as this one was a veritable treasure pool of new discoveries.
A tap on her shoulder had her looking at Rian, who pointed at a stall. “Should we try here?”
Nodding, she followed him. True to his word, Rian had taken the time to bring her to a massive fabric market in one of the busiest parts of Mumbai, and was exhibiting incredible patience when one after the other, her aunt rejected the saree pictures she sent, extending their search well past dinner time.
She sifted through a few more options at this new shop as Rian called for the vendor to bring more inventory out for her. With permission, she snapped a few photos and sent them off to her aunt, waiting for a reply.
“Mohan Chacha was asking me if you liked his gift,” she heard Rian say at one point, speaking of the night watchman at his building.