36 ~ Prohibited substance
? ANNOUNCEMENT ?
For those who don't know, I'd like to announce that I've started the third book in the Sin Series ~ Sinfully Yours ???
It is live on Wattpad for free, with more than two chapters already updated. Six chapters are currently available on Scrollstack Rowllr for early/paid access.
A special thank you to @akshitasinghhh444, @rudumb69 @IshaMehta914 @Beauty_VeRsE for constantly supporting this book through your comments and votes. I genuinely appreciate it.
You guys continued commenting and supporting me even when no one else was, and I'll always be grateful for that. You've truly been my pillar.
And if you miss any updates or want to read the locked chapters after Craved by the monster becomes paid, you can contact me within two weeks after the book is paid, and I'll let you four read it for free.
Thank you for always being there.
Chahat's POV.
Her eyes moved from Kartik to me and then back to Kartik, as if her mind was desperately trying to process what she had just witnessed.
I froze.
My entire face went hot.
I immediately stepped away from Kartik, trying to create as much distance between us as possible, even though there was absolutely no point. The damage had already been done.
"Oh God."
I wanted to disappear.
Kartik, on the other hand, looked completely unfazed.
He simply adjusted his shirt where my fingers had wrinkled it and glanced towards her with an expression that suggested he couldn't understand what the big deal was.
Chachi finally blinked.
Then she looked at the things scattered around her then at us again.
"Main... main baad mein aati hoon."
(I... I'll come later.)
My embarrassment doubled. "Chachi!"
My voice came out much smaller than I intended.
She turned around so quickly that I almost felt sorry for her.
I looked at him and and felt embarrassed.
He came towards me and cupped my cheeks, "Abhi toh kuch der pehle tum mujhe kiss kar rahi thi."
(Just a few moments ago, you were the one kissing me.)
I lowered my hands and glared at him.
He wrapped an arm around me. "Relax, Trouble."
I muttered. "Don't call me that."
He pressed a light kiss to the top of my head.
I groaned and came upstairs.
The moment the bedroom door clicked shut behind us, the entire atmosphere changed.
The embarrassment from downstairs seemed to disappear, leaving only the quiet of their room and the awareness of each other standing barely a step apart.
I had barely turned toward Kartik when his hand closed around my waist.
He pulled me into his arms so suddenly that a small gasp escaped me.
He didn't say a word.
He simply looked at me for one fleeting second, his eyes dark and intense, before lowering his head and capturing my lips.
The kiss was nothing like the teasing, almost playful kisses we had shared downstairs.
This one was hungry and Impatient.
As though the moment she had interrupted us, Kartik had been forced to stop himself and now that we were finally alone, he had no intention of holding back.
His arms tightened around me, drawing me firmly against him as his lips moved against mine with an urgency that left me breathless. I instinctively curled my fingers into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.
I kissed him back.
For a few seconds, neither of us seemed capable of remembering anything beyond that single point of contact.
The kiss deepened naturally, unhurried in one moment and almost desperate in the next. Kartik tilted his head slightly, his hand sliding higher along my back as though he needed to make absolutely certain I was still there.
When we finally separated for a breath, I barely had time to inhale before his forehead rested against mine.
His breathing was heavier now.
Mine wasn't any steadier.
He looked at me, and something in his expression made my heart stumble.
"Ab sharma nahi rahi?"
(Are you not shy anymore?)
I swallowed, still holding onto his shirt.
"Bilkul nahi."
(Not at all.)
A slow, arrogant smile appeared on his face and he kissed me again.
This time I smiled against his lips.
His hand tightened around my waist in response, and the faintest sound of amusement escaped him before he continued the kiss, slower now, lingering as though he had all the time in the world.
I forgot about Seema Chachi.
I forgot about the awkwardness downstairs.
I forgot about everything except the warmth of his arms around me and the strange, intoxicating certainty that this was no longer something either of us was pretending to feel.
When he finally pulled away, he didn't let me go.
One moment I was standing, the next I was in his arms. His hands gripped my waist, lifting me effortlessly. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking them behind him.
He pressed me against the wall.
The cool surface met my back, a sharp contrast to the heat of his body against mine. I gasped, and he took advantage. His lips captured mine, hungry and demanding.
I kissed him back passionately.
My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. I could feel the muscles of his shoulders beneath my palms, the strength in his arms as he held me against him.
I moaned against his mouth.
He pressed closer.
I could feel the heat of his body, the hardness of his chest against my breasts. I could feel the rapid beat of his heart against mine, matching my own frantic rhythm.
I pulled at his shirt.
He groaned.
"Chahat..." he breathed against my lips.
I kissed him harder.
I wanted him to feel everything I was feeling-the desire, the longing, the desperate need to be close to him. I wanted to erase every moment of distance between us.
He kissed me back with equal fervor.
His hands roamed my body-my back, my hips, my thighs. He touched me like he was memorizing every curve, every dip, every softness.
I arched into him.
He groaned again.
"You're driving me crazy," he murmured against my neck.
I smiled.
We pulled back.
Both of us were breathless, our chests heaving, our eyes locked on each other. The air between us was thick with desire, with need, with something that had been building for far too long.
He looked at me and something in his eyes shifted.
Before I could react, he pushed me onto the bed.
Roughly.
I bounced against the mattress, a gasp escaping my lips. But I didn't have time to recover. He was already on me, his body hovering over mine, his lips crashing against my lips. Deeply and desperately.
I kissed him back with equal fervor.
My hands found his shirt, my fingers working frantically at the buttons. I wanted him. I needed him. I couldn't wait another second.
I unbuttoned the first one, then the second then the third.
He pulled back just enough to shrug the shirt off his shoulders, tossing it away. I watched the fabric fall to the floor, revealing his bare chest.
The muscles of his chest and abdomen perfectly defined. I reached up, my fingers tracing the ridges of his chest.
He shuddered.
I leaned up and kissed his Adam's apple.
He groaned. "Fuck..."
The sound was low and rough, vibrating against my lips. I felt it travel through my entire body, felt the way his muscles tightened beneath my touch.
I kissed his chest.
His skin was warm and smooth. I pressed my lips against his collarbone, then lower. I felt his heart beneath my lips, rapid and wild.
I kissed his abs.
One by one. I traced the ridges of his stomach with my lips, feeling the way his muscles clenched beneath my touch.
He groaned again.
"Chahat..." His voice was strained. Broken. "Tum..."
(You...)
I looked up at him.
His eyes were dark, glazed with desire. His jaw was tight. His chest was heaving.
"Kya?" I whispered.
(What?)
"Tum mujhe pagal kar rahi ho," he breathed.
(You're driving me crazy.)
I smiled and I kissed his chest again.
He gasped.
His hands tangled in my hair. I could feel the way his body was trembling, the way he was struggling to maintain control.
I didn't stop.
I kissed his skin, tasting him, feeling him. Every sound he made drove me further, made me want more.
"Chahat... please..." I can't hold on any longer.
I looked up at him.
And I saw the surrender, need and the love.
My lips had barely left his chest when my eyes fell upon the scar. I have seen this earlier as well.
It stretched across his upper chest, an old, jagged reminder of something that had happened long before I had entered his life. I had noticed it before, but somehow, in the quiet intimacy of that moment, I saw it differently.
My fingers moved almost instinctively.
I traced the edge of the scar with my fingertips, barely touching it.
Kartik went still.
The warmth in his expression disappeared almost immediately.
I felt the change beneath my fingers.
He looked down at my hand resting against his chest, then back at me. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, neither of us said anything.
I didn't ask as I couldn't.
There was something in his eyes that stopped the question before it could leave my lips.
But perhaps he understood the question anyway.
Because he had always been frighteningly perceptive when it came to me.
He knew I wanted to know.
He knew I was wondering how he had gotten that scar.
And perhaps, more importantly, he knew I was deliberately choosing not to force him to tell me.
He slowly sat up, his back resting against the headboard. Then he reached for my hand.
His fingers closed gently around mine.
"Chahat..." he murmured.
My eyes lifted to his.
There was something unfamiliar in his voice. Something quieter and almost vulnerable.
I waited.
He looked down at our intertwined hands for a few seconds before finally meeting my gaze again.
He was still holding my hand.
His fingers were wrapped around mine, his thumb moving slowly over my knuckles, but there was nothing absent-minded about his expression anymore. The warmth that had been there moments ago had faded into something quieter, heavier.