Chapter 20 #3
“Careful, Cheeseball,” his eyes flicked to meet mine in the mirror. “I could get addicted to those sounds.”
A soft chuckle slipped from me as I savored the slow release of every knot in my shoulders. Whatever magic his fingers were weaving, it was sending tingles across my skin, and I realized I might not survive the night if he kept this up.
Holy mother of everything, yes. I love this man—his fingers, his abs, his mouth, his tongue, his smile, his heart, his neck, his cooking, his kisses… and especially that little frown he gets when he’s concentrating. Every piece of him.
His fingers continued their unhurried, skillful dance across my shoulders, and it felt like every knot of tension I’d ever carried was slowly unraveling beneath his touch. My eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
He leaned in, against the curve of my ear. “You okay?” he asked softly.
I nodded, managing a faint smile. “Better than okay,” I whispered, aware that my cheeks were probably the color of ripe cherries. The reflection in the mirror showed a sleepy, flushed version of me—yet somehow, I didn’t hate it. Not with him standing there, hands firmly on my shoulders.
“You know,” he murmured, “Pandas are adorable.”
I let out a small laugh. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Oberoi.”
“Who said I’m trying to get anywhere?” His lips curved into that dangerous half-smile as he leaned down slightly, his breath brushing against my ear. “Maybe I just like seeing you relaxed for once.”
I swallowed hard, my heart thumping in response. “Well… whatever you’re doing, don’t stop.”
His eyes locked onto mine through the mirror, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. The tiredness, the stress, the dark circles—they were all eclipsed by the way he looked at me. Like, I was the most mesmerizing thing he’d ever seen.
“Cheeseball,” he said softly, his voice laced with something I couldn’t quite place. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”
I turned in his arms until I was facing him, catching our reflection in the mirror. The sight of us intertwined sent a fresh surge of warmth coursing through me. “Your fingers…” I whispered against his lips. “They know exactly how to make me feel alive.”
“Yeah?” He murmured, his tone both playful and dangerously seductive.
His hands tightened their hold on my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.
His eyes flickered to the mirror for a brief moment before locking back onto mine.
“Let me show you just how much more they can do.”
My mind blanked for a moment—then I laughed, burying my face in his neck, unable to contain it. He chuckled softly, too, and the sound rumbled through his chest, vibrating against me. “I missed you…” He murmured somewhere near my neck.
“Because you couldn’t find anyone else to eat all the amazing food you cook?” I asked, turning slightly so we both faced the mirror now, side by side.
“No…” He said gently, sliding his arms more securely around my waist. “I missed you. I missed holding you…”
He nuzzled into the curve between my shoulder and collarbone, and I nearly melted at the heat of his breath against my skin.
My heart pounded as his fingers pressed lightly, guiding me closer until my back was flush with his chest. His lips grazed up my neck, and he pushed aside my hair to plant open-mouthed kisses on my shoulder.
I gasped, my body instinctively arching forward, but he steadied me with an arm around my waist.
My lacy sleepwear bunched beneath his hand as it drifted lower. His fingertips paused at the delicate line of my inner thigh. His breath caught, and his voice, when it came, was raspy with need. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”
“Don’t…” I managed, voice trembling. “Don’t stop.”
He tightened his hold on me in response, a soft, almost relieved sound escaping his throat. For a moment, we lingered there—his hand resting on my thigh, mine gripping the arm he had wrapped around my waist.
His lips trailed up my neck in gentle, open-mouthed kisses, each one lighting a spark behind my eyelids.
My breath spiked when he started tracing invisible patterns on my bare skin.
In the mirror’s reflection, I caught the way his lashes lowered, the way his expression seemed both intent and reverent, like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed this closeness.
Slowly, so carefully, his hand slid up my torso, skimming the lace that barely covered my midsection.
My skin heated under his touch, and I let out a trembling exhale.
He shifted his stance, pressing himself against my back for support as his hand continued its delicate journey. My fingers found his free hand, interlacing with it and holding tight. Another subtle movement, and I felt him gently push aside the edge of lace near my hip.
Every motion was slow and deliberate, as though he was giving me every chance to change my mind. But I didn’t want to. My head fell back against his shoulder, and I could feel his breath catch again when I whispered his name—just his name, softly, a plea or a prayer. Maybe both.
In response, his lips found the spot at the junction of my neck and shoulder, nibbling faintly before leaving a tender kiss. My chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as he nudged my hair aside.
The mirror reflected every shift in our expressions—mine, full of tentative wonder, and his, a mixture of reverence and restraint. We were in uncharted territory, and yet it felt strangely right.
His thumb found that sensitive spot with maddening precision, stroking slow, deliberate circles that set my entire body ablaze. My breath hitched, my legs trembling as I felt myself melting beneath his touch, the slick heat only intensifying with every movement of his hand.
“You’re so… fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with restraint, his words sending a fresh wave of heat surging through me. He paused for a heartbeat, as if to collect himself, his throat working as he swallowed hard.
Then, without missing a beat, his fingers slipped deeper, stroking me with a mastery that left me gasping.
My body arched instinctively, my hands gripping his shoulders for support, as he skillfully unraveled me, inch by inch.
His dark, hungry gaze never wavered from mine, watching every reaction, every shiver, every breathless moan.
A startled gasp left my lips as my eyes fluttered shut. “Manav…”
He chuckled softly as he kissed along my shoulder, his lips leaving a trail of heat in their wake. “Keep saying my name like that, and I might lose control,” though his voice carried no intent of stopping.
I couldn’t look away from the mirror—the sight of him worshipping me, his passion and intensity reflected in me. I never wanted it to end.
His lips brushed against my temple, his breath hot and deliberate, as he whispered again, “Tell me, baby. What do you want?” His voice was thick with restraint, laced with the hunger he was barely holding back.
“I need to…” I exhaled, my voice trembling, raw with desperation. “ Please, don’t stop.”
Manav’s low growl vibrated against my skin, making me shiver. “Good girl.” His thumb resumed its deliberate, maddening rhythm, coaxing me closer to the edge with every precise movement.
“Let go for me,” he whispered, his lips grazing the shell of my ear, his breath hot and electrifying. “I’ve got you.”
My body obeyed before my mind could catch up, waves of pleasure crashing over me, pulling me under. He didn’t stop, his fingers skillfully prolonging the intensity, drawing out every ounce of pleasure until I was completely undone, trembling and breathless in his arms.
As the aftershocks subsided, I collapsed against his chest, my heart pounding like a wild drum. He pressed a gentle kiss to my temple, as though I’d just given him something sacred.
Panting against his chest, I clung to him for stability while he held me tightly, not once letting go. My limbs felt boneless, my eyes too heavy to open.
He scooped me into his arms with a quiet gentleness I hadn’t expected in the aftermath of something so intense.
My mind felt hazy, my legs were weak, and my heart thudded against my chest like it might never slow down.
With careful steps, he carried me to the bed and laid me down, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face.
For a moment, neither of us spoke; the only sounds in the room were our uneven breathing and the muffled rush of blood in my ears. I blinked up at him, still caught in that surreal haze. He looked back at me, something soft and unreadable glinting in his eyes—like awe. Or maybe something deeper.
“You okay?” He asked softly.
I nodded, exhaling a shuddering breath. My body was still buzzing, every nerve on high alert, but there was a warmth—both physical and emotional—that made me feel safe. He grazed the back of his hand along my cheek. “Stay here,” he said gently. “I’ll get water.”
I didn’t have the energy to argue. My muscles felt like jelly, and my heart still hammered from the string of overwhelming sensations. I closed my eyes and listened to his footsteps fade—only to return moments later. When I opened them again, he was at my side, pressing a cool glass into my hands.
“Drink.” His free hand supported mine so I wouldn’t drop it. I obeyed, taking a few sips. He settled on the edge of the bed, watching me as I drank from the glass.
I let my eyes slide shut again, sinking into the bed, and felt him shift closer, one arm slipping under the pillows behind me.
Eventually, my racing heart began to calm.
The adrenaline ebbed, replaced by a tranquil fatigue.
As I drifted toward sleep, I vaguely registered him pressing another gentle kiss against my temple.
____________
‘I am in the kitchen…’
I found the note on my pillow when I opened my eyes. Sunlight poured into the room, warming everything in its golden glow. I felt more rested than I had in weeks—no, months.
Yes, after the mind-blowing, soul-satisfying pleasure session by his magical fingers last night, he gave me the sweetest, softest goodnight kiss.
He then pulled me into his chest, his arms strong and secure around me.
I could feel his heartbeat, steady and soothing, lulling me into a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in years.
I slept like I belonged—like his chest was the home I never knew I needed.
But then reality hit. Holy shit. 9:30 AM.
My stomach sank as I remembered. The meeting. The editors. In less than an hour.
I rushed to my room, took the fastest shower known to mankind, and thanked every deity in existence that Nancy wasn’t around to slow me down. For once, luck seemed to be on my side—or maybe Manav’s charm was rubbing off on me.
Pushing aside the blush creeping up my neck, I made my way to the kitchen. The second I stepped in, the aroma hit me—a scent so divine that it felt like it was from another world. There he was, the hot, beautiful guy responsible for all my confusion (not that I was complaining).
Manav Oberoi was in his element—humming to soft music, swaying slightly as he worked magic with a spatula. His movements were effortless, graceful, and the way he smiled to himself, completely unaware of my presence, was… enchanting.
I’m seriously conflicted here. Which version of this man is my favorite?
The stern, commanding businessman who barks orders like it’s nobody’s business?
The shirtless chef, who cooks cheeseballs only for me?
The hot guy who can deliver mind-blowing orgasms?
The tender, caring one who whispers the sweetest good nights into my hair as I drift off?
Or is it this one right now—the carefree, humming, pancake-flipping dream?
I walked up to him, and the moment he turned, those deep blue eyes locked on mine.
His smile could outshine the sun. “Good morning.” His voice, warm and velvety, melted something inside me, and that smile…
That damn smile. I might just have to add “smiling Manav Oberoi” to the top of my ever-growing list of favorites.
“Hey…” My voice barely made it out as I stood frozen in place, drinking in the sight of him. Manav, wearing a mint-green T-shirt and black sweatpants, looked so effortlessly perfect. Every part of me wanted to close the distance and hug him, but I couldn’t move.
“Your pancakes are ready,” he said softly, stepping closer, his fingers brushing against my cheekbones with such tenderness that it melted me on the spot.
“I have a meeting in half an hour…” I managed to say it, my voice was shaky.
“You are not leaving without breakfast…” He murmured, his fingers continuing their gentle caress on my cheeks.
The warmth of his touch made me crumble.
Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tightly.
His chin rested on my head, and I could hear his heart beating—steady, rhythmic, like it was telling me a story I didn’t yet know.
His arms pulled me even closer, his fingers threading softly through my hair.
We stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s warmth, before he whispered, “Can we go out for dinner tonight?”
I swallowed hard. “If by some miracle, my editors might leave me alive, but Dadi is going to kill me if I don’t meet her today.”
He gently pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, his gaze soft but intense. “When do I get to meet her?”.
“Soon…” Why do I feel that I don’t want to leave?
He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Then, without another word, he guided me to the stool and placed the most beautifully arranged pancakes in front of me.
We ate together, laughing over silly things—mostly because I couldn’t resist pulling his leg about the way he plated food with such intense focus.
The way he smiled, the way his eyes crinkled at my jokes, made me forget that this wasn’t my life.
My sensible brain tried to remind me of all the reasons I should be cautious and tried to ground me in reality.
I am leaving in fifteen days, stepping into a different world.
I don’t know when—or if—I’ll come back. But my heart?
It had a different plan. It was humming a tune all its own, a melody of hope and sweetness that refused to be silenced, no matter how hard I tried.
And so, against all logic and reason, I let myself get lost in that rhythm, surrendering to its pull for just a little while longer.
Just enough to savor the fleeting moments that made everything else fade away.
Moments that whispered promises I wasn’t sure I could keep—but wasn’t ready to let go of either.