He pulled the fabric up slowly, giving her time to change her mind, his eyes never leaving hers. She raised her arms, letting him draw it over her head.
The kurta hit the floor.
Cool air hit her skin. She stood before him in just her simple cotton bra and pajama pants, feeling exposed and vulnerable and wanting all at once.
His gaze traveled over her, slow, thorough, heated, and she resisted the urge to cover herself.
"You're beautiful," he said, voice rough with sincerity. "So damn beautiful, Divya."
"I'm not. I'm just..."
"You are." He cut off her protest, his hands settling on her waist, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin just below her ribs. "You're beautiful and you're mine and I'm going to spend the rest of tonight showing you exactly how beautiful I think you are."
His mouth descended to her neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the column of her throat. She gasped, her hands flying to his shoulders for balance as her knees went weak.
"Vikram…"
"I love the way you say my name." His lips moved against her skin. "Like a prayer. Like a plea. Say it again."
"Vikram."
His teeth grazed the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder, and she made a sound she'd never made before, desperate and needy and completely beyond her control.
"That's it," he murmured against her skin. "Let me hear you. Don't hold back."
His hands slid up her sides, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts again, and this time she arched into the touch, seeking more.
He growled, approval tangled tightly with the last threads of restraint he was still fighting to hold.
"Can I?" His fingers found the clasp of her bra at her back.
"Yes." The word came out breathless.
The fabric loosened, fell away. His hands came up to cup her, and the sensation of his palms against her bare skin stole her breath completely.
"God, Divya." His voice had gone reverent. "You're perfect."
Then his mouth was on her, hot and wet and skilled, and she stopped thinking altogether.
She arched, her body bending backwards on a primal instinct. Her fingers threaded into his hair, holding him to her as pleasure sparked through her body. He took his time, learning what made her gasp, what made her moan, what made her fingers tighten in his hair.
When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were dark with hunger.
"I need this off." He tugged at his suit and then his shirt, fingers fumbling with buttons that suddenly seemed too complicated.
She reached up with trembling hands. "Let me."
Together, they worked the buttons free. The shirt and then the vest joined the growing pile on the floor.
Her hands splayed tentatively across his bare chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the rapid hammer of his heart beneath her palm. Smooth skin over hard muscle. So different from her own softness.
"You can touch me," he said, voice strained. "Anywhere you want. However you want."
She explored hesitantly. The planes of his chest. The ridges of his abdomen. The line of his shoulders. The strength in his arms.
His breathing went ragged. His hands tightened on her waist, fingers digging in slightly.
"Divya." Her name sounded wrecked. "You're killing me."