Chapter 10 #3
For them.
And damn it, it was making her weak.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her fingers curled tighter around the refrigerator door, desperate to maintain the pretence of control. She needed distance. Space. Anything but him standing there, looking impossibly tempting.
“Stalking you, to make you hear me out,” he said, without an ounce of shame. “But now, maybe... enjoying some cake too.”
She gritted her teeth, desperate not to let her gaze linger on him longer than necessary as he continued.
“I remembered you can’t sleep when you’re angry,” he said. “And only eating something helps you relieve all that stress. Knew you’d crave a light snack before bed. Didn’t peg you for a midnight kitchen raider, though.”
She swallowed hard, fighting the surge of emotions clawing at her.
He remembered these small, intimate things about her?
Details he wasn’t supposed to care about anymore, not when they were standing on the verge of destroying whatever remained of their marriage.
He pushed off the counter, taking a slow step toward her. His smirk deepened. “Sad thing is you won’t be getting the whole truffle to yourself. I need my share too.”
“There’s only one piece left,” she muttered, trying to mask the tremor in her voice. “I got here first. Back off, Nair.”
He cocked a brow, stepping closer. “Exactly. Back off, Nair.”
She blinked. That name. That surname. For a beat, her heart stuttered. He’d said it so smoothly, as if reminding her they weren’t divorced yet. She was still Arundhati Nair. And somewhere deep inside her, that truth landed hard.
She narrowed her eyes and reached for the plate again, remembering how much he loved chocolate truffles.
How he’d once fought her tooth and nail over the last slice during their first month of marriage, claiming he could cross legal boundaries for it.
If anything, she knew Kushal Nair wouldn’t let a single piece go without a battle.
“That’s not how it works,” she argued.
Before he could counter, she grabbed the plate and, with a triumphant grin, scooped the last bite and popped it into her mouth. Deliberately, slowly, she let the rich chocolate melt on her tongue, licking the edge of her lower lip where a tiny crumb clung, throwing him a goading smile.
Kushal’s eyes darkened immediately as he watched her. “You think you’ve won?” he murmured, stepping closer.
She gave him a sugary smile. “Obviously.”
He stepped closer. “You know I never lose, Arundhati.”
Before she could roll her eyes, before she could summon another retort, he reached out.
His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, wiping away the lingering chocolate crumb with a touch so achingly gentle it stole the breath from her lungs. And then, without warning, he lowered his head.
She froze as his mouth brushed against hers. Once. Light. Testing. Then again, firmer, deeper. Her breath hitched, body leaning back instinctively as his hands slid around her waist, guiding her to the marble counter.
She gripped the edge behind her, heart hammering, as his fingers came up to cradle her face.
She wanted to push him away, to shove him back and remind him that this wasn’t allowed, that they were at war, not at love.
But her body betrayed her.
God, she hadn’t expected him to kiss her.
But maybe she had.
Ever since the incident earlier tonight, ever since he had draped her saree with that maddening care, that simmering restraint, there had been something dangerous crackling between them.
She should have known it would come to this.
Push him away, a voice in her head ordered. Tell him he has no right. Tell him it’s over.
But then there was another voice, softer but far more persuasive, whispering inside her:
It’s been months since these rough, familiar lips touched yours.
Months since you felt this heat.
This ache.
This need.
Don’t let it go.
When his fingers rose to cradle her face, everything inside her cracked.
The gentleness, the longing in his touch, it wrecked her.
His kiss deepened, drawing a soft, helpless sound from her throat she hadn’t meant to give. Within seconds, the friction of his body against hers knocked her pallu off her shoulder, the soft silk sliding down to her elbow, baring more of her bare skin to the heated air between them.
Although she hesitated, she wanted to pull him closer, harder, and lose herself in the kiss she had missed far more than she dared to admit.
Her fingers twitched against the counter until Kushal groaned softly against her mouth.
“Kiss me, Aru,” he whispered, voice hoarse with desperate need.
And she finally gave in. She obeyed him.
With a sudden, fierce desperation, she tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging him down to her, kissing him back with a hunger that startled even herself.
A kiss…months in the making.
A kiss…soaked with fury, longing, and everything they had never said.
And for that sliver of time, there was no divorce, no courtroom, no accusations.
Just them.
And the damn chocolate truffle she’d stolen that he tasted off her mouth like a victory reclaimed.
The moment Arundhati kissed him back, Kushal felt everything he had fought so long to suppress shatter inside him. A reckless ache burned through his veins and made him clutch her tighter, like she could vanish if he let go.
He had wanted this. Wanted her.
Not the polished, poised woman who threw sharp words like weapons in courtrooms. Not the distant, angry wife who looked right through him. No. He wanted the woman who trembled against him right now, her lips answering his with the same hunger he’d buried deep for months.
They kissed as if nothing else existed. As if the months of separation, misunderstandings, and bruised egos had never happened.
His hands roamed her curves shamelessly, pulling her closer, tasting the truth, she wouldn’t speak out loud.
Her fingers slipped beneath the open collar of his shirt, finding the warm, hard plane of his chest, her nails grazing his skin, making him groan low in his throat.
A few more buttons popped open under her restless touch, and he didn’t care. He wanted her to touch him. He wanted to drown in her, in this moment that had been denied to him for far too long.
He slid his fingers along her bare back, tracing the silk-soft skin, and found the thin strap of her blouse. Slowly, deliberately, he slipped it down her shoulder, baring more of her to his greedy gaze.
But just as his knuckles grazed the edge of her shoulder blade, he felt her tense. A sharp hiss of pain escaped her lips as she flinched back.
He recalled her left arm was still aching in between. Kushal instinctively reached to soothe her. “Aru—”
But she had already pulled away, clutching the dishevelled folds of her saree around her body, holding it like armour. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing ragged, her hair a beautiful, wild mess. She looked stunning. Vulnerable. Untouchable.
And furious. At herself more than at him.
Without a word, she turned and hurried away, tightening her grip on the saree which was now sliding dangerously down her body with each hurried step, and refusing to look back at him even once.
Kushal stood there, his palms braced against the marble kitchen counter.
He had no regret about what had just happened.
That kiss, the way she had melted against him, the way she had kissed him back, was the proof he needed. Proof that it wasn’t over. No matter how much she denied it. No matter how many walls she built between them.
She didn’t want to hear him out? Fine.
But now, Kushal promised himself, he would use every trick, every ounce of strategy he was infamous for…his patience, his persistence, his mastermind mind games if needed, to bring her to him.
He would make her come to him.
This time, he wasn’t just hoping for a chance.
He was going to create it.
And he wasn’t backing down.