Chapter 4
4
C haaru followed DP down the elegant corridors of the high-rise, trembling from the aftereffects of their little eye-fuck.
How had a little moment got her so hot and bothered? Had that been a wicked glint in DP’s brown eyes daring her to keep her eyes on him?
Also, how had she not noticed, in all these years of his campouts and sleepovers with Kaasi, that DP was built like a freaking truck that she wanted to ride all hours?
There was nothing lean or boyish about his frame like the poser painter. His chest and abdomen were substantial, a thick line of hair disappearing under his belt that she wanted to follow like a treasure trail.
Yes, she’d known DP had an active lifestyle, mountain hiking and what-not, but damn, the man was putting accountants on the map as wet-dream material.
Without her permission, her eyes did a quick sweep of his broad shoulders and his thick biceps. If his chest looked like that, what did his thighs look like? What did his…cock look like?
Her belly rolled and it had nothing to do with the elevator car zooming down.
Christ, Chaaru, have some shame, she heard in the voice of her older sister Shanti, who’d forever tried to shame Chaaru for one thing or another.
Although in this case, maybe it was better to heed her sister’s annoying warning. Maybe some lines shouldn’t be crossed, even in her thoughts.
“Everything okay?” DP asked, breaking the loaded silence.
Chaaru met his gaze in the full-length mirror that framed them together as if for a picture. The hem of his white shirt skimming her upper thighs and her hair in a disarray, she looked like a cheap, middle-aged hooker who got fired.
He, on the other hand, looked yummy enough to lick up, with his thick hair shining wetly from the rain, and his biceps bulging with definition. If she pressed back one step, his large frame would engulf her.
Suddenly, she wanted more than anything to sink into his hard warmth, to let those rough hands of his play with her however he wanted. Just imagining it made her spine tingle and shivers wracked her.
“What’s wrong?” DP said, his scowl turning ferocious. “If he did something more, Char, I swear to God I’m calling TJ and his wannabe motorbike gang and-”
“God, no,” she said, feeling ashamed that he worried about her while she was spinning a sexual fantasy starring him. “I wouldn’t have let him lay a finger on me. He’s already forgotten.”
His relieved exhale played with the tiny hairs on her nape. “Good!”
When his fingers landed on her shoulders, she jumped. And then tried to laugh to cover it up. The fake sound surrounded them in the small space.
“You’re jumpy,” he said, stating the obvious.
Their eyes held in the mirror. And she couldn’t help sweeping them over the thick slashes of his brows, the broad swathe of his cheekbones, the shapely bow of his upper lip. How had she never noticed how kissable his mouth was?
Her entire world felt upside down because this was DP. As her best friend, he was forbidden to her. Especially since she sucked at romantic relationships.
She tugged her gaze upward, cheeks burning.
Something gleamed in his.
Could he read her thoughts on her face? Would he be disgusted by her ‘unwomanly sexual appetite’ as her ex had called it so many times? The memory of her ex and all the nasty gaslighting he’d done was enough to cool her down.
“I’m just tired,” she said, opting for truth. “Have been up since five am. This evening was supposed to be my reward after a sixty-hour week of cleaning and cooking for others.”
His hands squeezed her shoulders and she let her head fall back onto his chest. “I’m sorry, Char. You deserve so much better.”
She closed her eyes, fighting the emotion clogging her throat at his tender tone. Every inch of her shivered as he kneaded her shoulders with firm fingers. Tension dissolved out of her, second by second, and her body felt like a dress whose hangar had been pulled out. All floaty and fluttery and light.
Slowly, she settled into him, her back settling against his chest, her thighs hitting his. He was a cocoon of heat and hardness behind her and was that his…
DP jerked away so fast that she stumbled and would have fallen to the floor if he didn’t steady her. “Sorry, I…” His curse rang around loudly. “My phone’s ringing.”
Chaaru nodded and looked away, her face flaming. DP never cursed.
Luckily, her phone pinged too. Kaasi’s text danced on the screen just as the elevator came to a sudden halt. Stepping out of it, Chaaru mumbled that she needed to use the restroom and ducked into one.
She used the toilet, washed her hands and gripped the counter, refusing to look at herself. Refusing to acknowledge the overwhelmingly intense urge to go back and kiss the hell out of DP. Refusing to dwell on whether it might have been disgust in his words that she had pressed herself into him.
No.
A sudden sob built up through her chest and she took a shuddering breath. This was ridiculous, this fear and this shame and this…sense of her life spiraling out of control over the smallest thing. She wasn’t going to do anything that would cost her DP, she reassured herself, as if she were talking to a child.
Neither had she done anything wrong. Discovering that she was attracted to her best friend was…inconvenient, yes. But it didn’t mean she would act on it or that they were right for each other in the romantic sense. He wanted to get married, settle down and that was never going to be her.
She valued her freedom too much. Valued him too much to mess it up with her abysmal relationship record.
He was solid, dependable, and loyal to the last bone. Through the divorce and fight for custody of Kaasi, and then raising him, he’d been her stalwart friend. Her ex’s friend first, he’d been one of the few people in their huge circle who’d taken her side.
Without his guidance and easy affection, Kaasi would have never known a positive male role model. There was no way in God’s green, and now slightly warmer earth, that she would jeopardize their relationship.
She’d even set him up with the perfect woman, hadn’t she? Tomorrow, if he and Pooja decided to get married, his priorities would change and he wouldn’t give her as much time and attention. It felt like there was a splinter digging into her chest at the thought but she’d made her peace with it.
She’d rather have DP in her life in some form rather than get involved romantically with him and lose him.
With a shuddering exhale, she walked out into the lounge to find him walking its expansive length with measured strides.
“Forgot that I’ve been sitting there chained for two and a half hours. Had a near accident,” she said, tucking her arm through his with forced cheer. Every nerve in her body pinged with primal recognition as it touched his. “Bladder’s definitely different in your forties.”
If he thought her sudden conversational shift to bodily functions strange, DP didn’t show it. Tapping the back of her hand, he chuckled. “Good to know what’s ahead.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s not the same for people without hormones messing them up,” she said, as they stepped out into the streets and a relentless downpour greeted them. “It’s really a buffet of issues for women in forties while men get to-”
“For what it’s worth,” DP said, untangling himself from her to open the umbrella with a rueful twist of his mouth, “I think you keep getting better with each year, Char.”
Chaaru blushed at his soft tone and the deep conviction in his eyes. “Why, thank you, kind sir. The trick is hydration, back-breaking cleaning from sun-up to sun-down, and lots of heart-pounding sex.”
Cheeks heating, she regretted the frivolous comment instantly.
DP wriggled his brows, though his gaze said something else.
Chaaru looked away before she could read what it was. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling miserable at how every small thing now had a different nuance. Against her heated skin, the night air felt especially chilly, rolling instant goosebumps.
She stiffened when DP wrapped an arm around her with a proprietary clasp that made her want to struggle against him like a recalcitrant child. He pulled her to his side, his arm a clamp around her waist. So that they could both fit under the umbrella, she realized belatedly.
Her stilettos clicked on the sidewalk as they walked in lockstep. The drizzle slapped her other side, making it cold and wet. As if to taunt her with contrast on the side he tucked her tight into his body, warm and hard. Slowly, whatever tension had built up dissipated as they walked past chic new cafes, and old bars with faded facades and dull neon lights. Dressed as she was, she was glad for the deserted streets.
DP kept up a steady stream of conversation about the city and she let his voice soothe the needy, insecure parts of herself she’d thought had healed.
In the twenty years since she’d moved to the area as a young bride, the city had transformed into the IT hub it was today, pushing everyone who didn’t have a job in the same field farther and farther out. Almost parallel to how she’d gone from a cushy lifestyle with her ex to fending for herself and her son. In her case though, even poverty had tasted better, spiced with the hard-won taste of freedom.
That Kaasi might join the illustrious club of highly-paid IT jobs after he graduated filled her with a sparkling sense of triumph.
“A penny for your thoughts,” DP said, as they finally turned into a narrow alley and then down a steep lane. She could see his monster truck at the foot.
Her breasts pressed up into his side as she tried to maneuver the slope on her heels. Pleasure receptors lit up inside her body as if they had been switched on while her mind shouted out warning after warning. “Indulging in a flight of fancy,” she said, her words a breathy whisper.
Nudging her gently off him, he took her arm in a firm grip. “About?”
“Kaasi getting a job in one of these skyscrapers.”
“He will,” DP said, squeezing her cold fingers.
“It’s strange. For so long, I worried about his education and future prospects, about the divorce not affecting his mental health. Now, I can’t imagine how lonely it will be without him cluttering the house and eating all the food.”
DP laughed. “He has a year and a half to graduation.” Squeezing her closer, he pressed a kiss to her temple. “And I know exactly how it feels. I’ll be there to hold you through it like you did after Maggie left.”
Chaaru blinked away hot tears. “Promises, promises.”
He pulled away the umbrella with a jerk, leaving her to stare up at him through needle-like drizzle prickling her eyes from the side of the awning.
Something intense flitted over his features. He stared at her, his face damp, his thick lashes catching them like dew drops on leaves. He looked so gorgeous, so real that a flood of longing filled her.
“When have I ever broken a promise to you?” he demanded, with most un-DP like intensity.
“I just…” Chaaru tried to force a laugh that didn’t come. “I meant that eighteen months is a long time. The entire landscape of our lives could be different by then.”
Her explanation made his scowl deepen. “You say that after two decades of friendship?” he said, opening the passenger door to his truck.
Chaaru sighed. “I’m not implying that something drastic will happen.” She looked over her shoulder at him but his jaw was tight. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”
“Do you need a hand up?” he said, ignoring her half-assed apology.
She shook her head, braced her foot on the step and pulled herself up. Only when her ass hit the leather seat did she realize that she might have flashed it at him. God, she hated having to gauge and measure every word and action around him.
When he joined her in the truck, she exhaled. The truck was gigantic but the front seat still wasn’t enough room for the two of them and the tension between them. “I hate fighting with you,” she said, anxious to dispel the building sparks. She grabbed his hand from the gearshift with her own and squeezed tight. For an accountant, the man’s hands were full of calluses. Then she realized it had to be rope burn.
He laid his head back against the headrest. “Not fighting. Arguing.”
“There’s a distinction?”
Turning to her, he grinned. And she felt like she’d emerged into sunny spring after months of gloomy, drizzly winter. “That’s the line Maggie uses against me. Must be true.”
Chaaru breathed in relief as he started the truck.
“Let’s go straight to Pooja’s,” she said, and instantly realized it was the wrong thing to say.
“With you looking like that?” DP said, his gaze sweeping over the now damp shirt clinging to her chest and rucking up around her thighs. Her skin warmed at the scrutiny.
The air switched to a heated blast and a jacket fell into her lap. Flushing, Chaaru spread it around. “Home it is then.”
He was right. She’d already interrupted their date. The last thing they needed was for her to show up at Pooja’s place with her ass hanging out under the tails of DP’s shirt.
She leaned back into the cold leather seat as nineties melodies belted out of the radio. The exhaustion of the long day, the shitty breakup, and the rollercoaster after with DP himself…her body finally caved in under the weight of it all.
“Sleep, Char. It’s a long drive,” DP said, his fingers tapping her cheek.
The seat warmers kicked in. She groaned deeply, like a cozy baby bird tucked up in the safe warmth of her nest. “You don’t mind?” she said, fighting a monstrous yawn that nearly broke her jaw.
His laughter swaddled her like a warm blanket. “No.”
Chaaru rubbed her cheek against his rough palm and decided to let her worries about their relationship go. For this car ride at least, things were good between them, which meant her world itself was right.
She pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her knees, and promptly fell asleep, before the lights of downtown flickered out of sight.