Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
Advik
Zero survival instincts, indeed.
I’ve poked the panther one too many times. Her chest is heaving, her hands clenched, her eyes flitting wildly with too many emotions. Her hair has fallen forward, curtain-like, veiling a storm I might not survive.
I want to brush it back. But a very primal part of me thinks she might be carrying a knife. Or a gun somewhere.
“You—”
But then she stops. Doesn’t say anything.
For a second, I panic. She’s too quiet. Too still. What if I’ve pushed her too far? What if she’s spiraling again and I’ve undone all the progress she’s made these past weeks just for a fucking coffee run with Dev?
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
But then—
She steps forward. No... jumps.
I have half a mind to protect my throat again. Maybe even my balls.
But I freeze at the touch of her lips on mine.
What the fuck?
My brain short-circuits. For a second, I don’t move. Her mouth is hard, urgent—like she wants to erase—or maybe create something. And for one horrifying moment, I think she might pull away just as quickly.
Now, I won’t lie. I’m an atheist. But in that moment I pray to every god I know to never stop this beautiful, harsh reality.
One second. Two. And I snap.
One arm locks tight around her waist, the other dives into her hair, gripping it like a lifeline. I cradle the back of her head and pull her impossibly closer.
She opens for me. A moan—low, wounded, wanton—rips through the space between us. Maybe hers. Maybe mine. Doesn’t matter. I’m fucking gone.
We collide. Tongue and teeth, breath and bruised emotions. She bites my lower lip hard enough to bleed. I groan into her mouth, stepping forward until her hips hit the kitchen counter behind her.
Fucking fuck. I feel like I’m finally breathing after drowning for three years.
This is happening. God! This is actually happening.
Greesha. My Greesha. She’s kissing me like she hates me. Like she missed me.
I’m under no illusion that this is probably a one-off. A result of the thousand conflicting emotions I saw swimming in her eyes earlier.
Her hands grip my hair, yanking just enough to make me hiss. Her braless chest presses into mine—skin, heat, emotion all bleeding together.
I force my hips to stay in place. Even though every cell in me aches to grind my hard cock against her. Claim her. But I don’t. I won’t. This isn’t that.
Even with only 0.1% capacity of my brain function at the moment—I still know she won’t welcome that type of touch.
So I pour everything else into the kiss. Love. Fear. Longing. Pain. Hope.
As if the last word was telepathically conveyed, she snaps. Breaking the contact. Pushing me away by the shoulder that’s almost healed. I stagger back—no longer caging her.
As if I could.
I wince out of habit but it doesn’t hurt anymore.
Guilt crashes through me when I see her face twist with emotion at the realization. That she just poked my wounded shoulder.
So I try to bring my smirk back. It doesn’t come. Because all I’m feeling right now is that this was probably our last kiss. And my heart gives a painful jolt of loss.
“That was...” she sobers quickly.
Her lips are swollen, her breath ragged. Her hair’s a mess. And her eyes... God, her eyes look like she just survived something. Survived me.
“A mistake?” I finish quietly.
Her head jerks back as she stares at me incredulously. “What? No! Of course not.”
I’m... confused?
“I’m confused,” I say dumbly.
I’m confused.
But for the first time in three years, my heart isn’t breaking. It’s just—waiting.
I step back. Tilt my head. And just study her.
Her cheeks are still flushed with residual heat—anger, lust, confusion, probably all three. But what really gets me is the way her breathing’s shallow, like she can’t quite catch up with herself.
She’s avoiding my eyes now. Her body shifting, grounding, like she’s trying to shake something off.
“This was a moment of...” she starts to say, but trails off just as easily.
I try to offer her a way out again. Foolishly. Stupidly.
“Weakness?” I finish, smiling just a little.
Her head snaps up, giving me a blank stare. “Stop completing my sentences. You’re not even in the vicinity of accuracy.”
Okay. She’s back to herself. Sort of.
But that light snap in her voice? That’s Aadya. And a little bit of old Greesha. Sharp-tongued. Viciously charming. And then she shifts again—like the old Greesha’s just a costume she’s trying on after years in storage perhaps. I can see her restraint pulsing beneath.
I study her face again, like it’s a puzzle that won’t stop changing.
“Okay...” I say carefully. “Then what was this?”
She frowns. Like she’s trying to find words. “A... lust-filled angry kiss. Because you were being reckless. And it made me furious.”
I blink. Then smother a grin. “So this is what I have to do to get kissed now? Endanger myself?”
Her expression flattens. Deadpan.
“It’s not happening again, Mr. Sharma. Even though...” she adds with a shrug, “I’m glad you were... decent at it.”
Decent? My brows rise. The fuck?
She raises one too. “Been practicing?” she asks, with the kind of faux sweetness.
I squint, narrowing my eyes. “It was better than decent, sweetheart.”
“Fine!” she sighs, rolling her eyes in such an un-Aadya like manner that I almost take a step back.
Then with a cold deadpan stare she says, “It was great. Got me wet. Wanna check?”
I choke on... nothing.
What—
Who the fuck is this woman?
Is this still the woman who just punched me in the throat? Put a gun to my head in the hospital? Because I think my brain’s melting.
I groan, dragging a hand down my face. I feel heat climb up my neck. “Stop, woman. Please.”
She smirks like she’s seconds away from grabbing a knife out of thin air. Fuck. We’re in the kitchen.
“Come on. Like you weren’t hard,” she tosses back, clearly enjoying my emotional whiplash.
I level her with my own deadpan stare. “Of course I was. I’m still hard. Wanna check?”
She snorts, her demeanor loosening the playful moment. “No thanks.”
And then as though a switch flips—she just turns around and saunters off like she didn’t just set my whole nervous system on fire.
“Onion omelette,” she calls over her shoulder before the bathroom door clicks shut.
I blink. I stare at the empty space she left behind.
So. Yeah... I don’t know who this Greesha was. The sudden surge of emotions she’s bearing have left me disoriented.
So I’m still confused.
And... hard.