CHAPTER 28
Dev
The big weekend has finally arrived, and I swear I’ve been scrubbing haldi stains off my face for half the day.
‘This shit is a nightmare,’ I hiss, still pissed that I, the brother of the bride, had to be covered in that stupid yellow turmeric paste as part of the pithi ceremony. ‘There’s no way Alisha would stand having this spread all over her. That girl threw fits as a kid when I got washable marker on her while we were drawing.’
Chava spares me a disinterested glance from where he’s lazing on my bed, scrolling through his phone while Mark and Oakley do the same thing beside him. They have their own bedrooms in this sprawling Malibu beach house my family rented, but, of course, they’ve posted up in here instead. I hate to say it, but I think we’re attached like conjoined quadruplets at this point.
Downstairs, the thudding drumbeats grow louder, and excited shouts and laughter accompany the music. It’s the first night of the wedding, and the men from both sides are here to celebrate while the women get their mehndi done at their own party next door. I don’t know how Alisha found three high-end rental properties on the same street, but my bank statement says she pulled it off. They’re so nice that I can’t even be mad about it.
The house across the street, with its lush green yard, will be home to the garba tomorrow night and the wedding ceremony on Sunday, but this place and the one next door will be used for the rest of the events and ceremonies. Plus, we put our close family and friends up here. It’s the perfect way to keep the celebration going twenty-four seven.
‘I saw her,’ Chava says offhandedly, his attention still fixed on his phone. ‘She looks great. Glowing. And you look . . .’
‘Jaundiced,’ Mark finishes for him.
I throw the yellow-tinted washcloth into the sink. ‘Fuck off.’
‘You look fine,’ Oakley calls as I stalk out of the en-suite bathroom. ‘Not like you have anyone to impress. It’s just the men tonight.’
I’m careful not to react to that, because I don’t plan to just hang out here all night. No, I’ll be heading next door the second I can slip away without being noticed.
This already feels like a taste of how life will go when Willow and I are forced to make our relationship long-distance. Endless texts, phone calls sneaked in spare moments alone, sending silly pictures of the most mundane things. This morning, I stared at a photo of a stack of pancakes for several minutes, all while imagining I was sitting at the table next to Willow. It was the highest degree of pathetic.
I’m in love with her. I’ve known as much for a while, and I’ve already confessed it, but I didn’t expect love to hurt like this. To ache. To burrow deep into my bones and physically pull me toward her. She’s part of me, wrapped around every nerve and muscle and bone, and to be separated from her is like missing a piece of myself.
And she’s just next door. How wretched will it feel when she’s half a world away?
Fuck. Right now, I need to be the joyful brother of the bride, not the moping lovesick puppy who’s just been kicked by reality. But, man, this is miserable.
‘Are you really that mad about a little turmeric?’ Oakley asks, surveying me closely. ‘I’ve never seen you scowl this much. Didn’t even know you could.’
Doing my best to school my expression, I turn toward the mirror and adjust the collar of my navy button-down. I’ll be back in Indian clothes tomorrow, coordinating with Willow again, though hopefully no one other than my scheming mother will notice.
‘Just a little on edge,’ I admit when I can’t conjure a relaxed expression. ‘I still haven’t heard from Howard. My future’s kind of up in the air, and it’s silly season, so . . .’ I shrug without finishing the thought.
Heaving a sigh, Oakley gets up from the bed and stands beside me, clapping my shoulder and making eye contact with me in the mirror. ‘You could just retire,’ he says, smirking. ‘Life’s pretty good on this side.’
That gets me to snicker. I shake my head. ‘I’ll pass, thanks. I like my job.’
‘Shame.’ He uses the hand that was on my shoulder to slap me upside the head. ‘Stop moping. Let’s go get shit-faced. You don’t have to drive this weekend.’
He’s right about that, and I plan to take advantage of it – just not in the way he’s suggesting. ‘All right, fine,’ I concede, managing a smile this time. ‘Wanna bet on how long it’ll take for one of the uncles down there to ask me for paddock passes?’
Oakley snorts and guides me to the door. ‘I’m giving it no more than ten seconds.’
——
If racing doesn’t work out, I might have a future career as a spy.
After plying all the boys with drinks and leaving them singing completely unintelligible Bollywood karaoke, I’ve made my escape. It’s a little after ten p.m. – still incredibly early when there are wedding festivities in full swing – but I can’t take another second of waiting.
I texted Willow twenty minutes ago and told her to meet me here – the laundry room in the house where the ladies are partying tonight. It’s the only place I could think of where we wouldn’t be interrupted, because who’s doing laundry at a party? And with wet mehndi on their hands? Never happening. Besides, all those sparkly outfits are dry-clean only.
The party is taking place in the backyard, meaning I could sneak into the house unseen. My stomach sinks a little when I step into the small room off the kitchen and realize Willow isn’t here yet. She responded to my text with a kissy-face emoji, but now that I think about it, it wasn’t exactly a resounding yes, I’ll meet you.
Well, shit. Maybe I blew it. I should have gotten confirmation. I could text her again or maybe even call or—
The door, which I left ajar, suddenly swings open, nearly smacking me in the nose.
‘Oh, shit!’ Willow gasps. She shuffles into the room under the weight of her embroidered chaniya choli, bumping the door shut with her hip. ‘Are you okay? Did I hurt you?’
I’m more surprised by the curse leaving Willow’s pretty little mouth than I am by nearly getting taken out by the door. ‘I’m fine,’ I tell her, still blinking away my shock.
And once I do . . . Fucking hell, she’s a vision in soft pink and gold. Willow decked out in clothes from my culture absolutely does it for me. It’s the second time today the sight of her has almost knocked me on my ass. The first was at the pithi ceremony, when she wore that marigold-yellow outfit and truly embodied the warmest ray of light. It’s proof of how well she fits into my life, how easily she adapts to and appreciates this part of my world. All of it fits her beautifully, and I don’t just mean the clothes.
‘Okay, good,’ she exhales before giggling. ‘I’m so happy to see you, but I can’t stay for long.’
Her cheeks are flushed, and she’s holding her hands out in front of her awkwardly. Her positioning draws my attention to the swirls of intricate mehndi designs twisting all the way up to her elbows. From the look of things, she’s been having a great time with my family.
‘I promise, no one will notice,’ I tell her. ‘Things are about to get rowdy out there.’
She blinks a few times, the glitter on her eyelids catching the light. ‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously.’ I lean against the washing machine and smirk. ‘Pretty soon they’re gonna be telling Alisha all about how to perform her wifely duties.’
Willow stops blinking and gapes at me. ‘You don’t mean . . .’
‘Oh, I absolutely do mean. Did you see anyone carrying around an eggplant out there?’
She balks.
‘I’ll take that as a yes.’
‘I thought they were talking about cooking,’ she says weakly. ‘I really should learn Gujarati. No wonder they were all cackling. Curry isn’t that funny.’
I bite back a laugh at her wide-eyed innocence, curling my hands around her waist and pulling her to me. ‘Don’t worry,’ I reassure. ‘I’ll teach you one day. And I’ll help you practise for your future wifely duties.’
She comes to me willingly, though she doesn’t dare touch me in return. ‘Oh yeah? When should we start on these future wife lessons?’
‘No time like the present.’
Willow squeals when I lift her off her feet and turn to place her on top of the washing machine. ‘Dev,’ she warns, hands lifted between us. ‘My mehndi is still drying.’
I bend, finding her ankles and the hem of her long skirt. ‘Guess that means all you can do is sit there and look pretty while I wreck you.’
‘Dev!’
I watch her through my lashes and lift the fabric to her shins without shame. ‘Can I?’
‘We shouldn’t,’ she whispers, but her knees fall open.
‘We shouldn’t,’ I agree as I slowly push her skirt to her thighs. ‘But I want to. Do you?’
A tense beat passes as she observes my every move closely. Then she nods.
‘I need to hear you say it, Willow.’
‘Yes,’ she exhales, slipping forward to the edge of the machine, skirt rising with the motion. ‘Yes, I want to.’
‘That’s my girl. Now spread your legs for me, baby.’
She does as she’s told, and I slip my hands up to her hips and curl my fingers around the edge of her cotton panties. I want nothing more than to worship her pussy, to taste her like I’ve been dreaming of.
I drag the soaked material down her legs. ‘So wet already,’ I murmur. My cock is aching, but this is all about her. This is all I want.
‘Just what you do to me,’ she pants, inching closer. ‘Touch me, please.’
How could I resist such a sweet plea?
Dropping to my knees, I push her glittering skirt over her hips, revealing her to me. I palm her ass, pulling her closer as I lean in, tracing her slit slowly with my tongue. She tastes like everything that makes life worth living.
The moan that escapes her is the filthiest thing I’ve ever heard, like she’s been on edge the whole time we’ve been apart, waiting for me to touch her. And now, judging from the way her hips buck forward, she’s done being patient.
I close my lips over her clit and suck, earning another shuddered sound of pleasure. Her back arches, and her hands hover over my head. She wants to touch me, to grip my hair. She’s barely resisting the urge, lest she smudge the paste staining her skin. I don’t want it to budge. I want it to darken to the deepest brown so I can trace the lines and swirls and flowers for weeks to come. Her skin is already the most beautiful canvas; it deserves unmarred art.
But I have no problem corrupting the rest of her.
I glide the tips of my fingers over her folds as I greedily devour her, her skin slick and scorching, and I take what I want. I slip one finger into her first, relishing the way her walls flutter around me. Then I add a second, eliciting another heavenly sound. She practically chants my name, begging for more, grinding against my face like a woman possessed.
‘Dev, please,’ she whines.
I glance up and take in the sight of her head thrown back and her hands lifted as if in prayer. I choose to believe she’s praying to me.
‘I’m . . . I’m . . .’
Pulling back slightly, I murmur, ‘Let go, baby.’ And then my tongue is back on her clit and my fingers are curling up, working inside her to bring her all the way to that peak.
She crests it with a loud moan. I keep my mouth pressed to her as she rides it out, still tasting her, slowing my movements until she goes limp against me. With soft kisses to her inner thighs, I slip my fingers out of her, pleased with the way they glisten under the fluorescent lights.
‘I’ve wanted to do that for days,’ I say, sitting back on my heels and dragging the back of my hand across my mouth. I grin wickedly up at her. ‘Too bad you didn’t let me when I snuck into your house.’
She watches me with a look somewhere between smitten and annoyed. Like she’s torn between telling me she loves me and kicking me in the face. ‘If you’d done that,’ she says, chest heaving and breaths laboured, ‘there’s no way this would still be a secret.’
She’s right. My girl is loud and wild when she finally lets go, and I’d never want to hold her back.
Her eyes go wide then. ‘Oh god, you don’t think anyone heard us, do you?’
I shake my head. ‘With the music that loud? I’d be amazed if anyone out there could hear themselves think.’
She drops her shoulders and exhales, and I soothe her with a kiss to the inside of her knee. Then I rearrange her skirt, letting it fall back to her ankles, turning her back into the picture of decency – minus the missing panties and the glow in her cheeks.
‘Soon we won’t have to keep this such a secret,’ I promise. ‘Two more days.’
‘Two more days,’ she repeats breathlessly.
And they’re going to be the longest days of my life.