The loss of his weight, his warmth, his proximity felt like being plunged into ice water.
"Good morning, Divya," he said again, voice still rough but now edged with satisfaction. He rolled to his side of the bed like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't just unraveled her completely.
She lay there for three frozen seconds, mind blank, body still humming with frustrated tension.
Then she bolted.
The bathroom door slammed behind her. She pressed her back against it, both hands over her racing heart, lungs gasping for air she'd forgotten to breathe.
What was that? What wasthat?
He'd almost... She'd thought he was going to... she'dwantedhim to
But he hadn't. Had just... teased her. Deliberately. Thoroughly. With that expression that said he knew exactly what he was doing to her. Knew exactly how close she'd been to closing thatdistance herself. Knew exactly how badly she'd wanted him to kiss her.
Her fingers touched her lips, still tingling from the phantom pressure of his almost-kiss.
Outside, Vikram settled back against the pillows, satisfaction warming his chest alongside something fiercer. Something hungry.
The way she'd looked at him. The way her fingers had clutched his shirt. The way her breath had caught when he'd gotten close.
She'd wanted him to kiss her. Had been ready to kiss him back.
Not yet. But soon. Very soon.
???
They pretended nothing happened since Divya walked out of the bathroom. Not even when they got downstairs for breakfast, not even when they sat in the car, not even when they arrived on the set.
Divya handed him his call sheet without meeting his eyes. Coordinated with the production team with her usual efficiency.
Vikram went through his scenes with practiced ease. Hit his marks. Delivered his lines. Charmed the crew.
But his mind kept drifting. Not to the almost kiss, because if he let his mind drift there, he might carry Divya to vanity van right that instant and have his way with her.
Hence, he focused on last night. Her glowing face at the documentary. The way she'd laughed during the flashmob. How she'd fallen asleep in the car, trusting and content.
What else would bring her that kind of joy?
Between takes, he watched her coordinate with the assistant director. The familiar efficiency. The quiet competence.
An idea formed. Simple. Direct. Something she wouldn't expect.
He checked his watch. Three PM. They'd wrap by six.
He pulled out his phone.
That Evening
Divya looked up from her phone as the car turned down a familiar street. Her street. The one leading to her parents' apartment building.
"Where are we going?"
"Home," Vikram said simply.
"What? Why..." Panic crept into her voice. "You didn't tell me. I would have called ahead, my mother won't have prepared..."
"I ordered food. It'll arrive in twenty minutes." He parked smoothly. "Relax. It's just dinner with your family."