21 ~ Red Saree
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Chahat's POV.
I woke up slowly.
My mind was foggy, my body heavy. I felt a warmth beneath my cheek a firm, solid surface that rose and fell with a steady rhythm.
I blinked then I looked down.
And I froze.
I was sleeping on Kartik's bare chest.
His bare, muscular, impossibly warm chest.
My head was nestled in the curve of his shoulder, my cheek pressed against his skin. I could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear. Could feel the rise and fall of his breath.
I gasped and then I felt something else.
My hand. It was resting on something hard that made my eyes go wide with horror.
My hand was resting on his manhood. I could feel the warmth of him through the thin fabric of his lower. Could feel the shape of him beneath my palm.
I yanked my hand away like I'd been burned.
I sat up so fast that my head spun.
My heart was pounding. My cheeks were flushed. My entire body was trembling with a mixture of shock and embarrassment.
I looked down at myself.
My robe was gone. It was lying on the bed beside me, discarded. I was wearing only the thin, ivory nightgown that reached just past my mid-thigh.
I grabbed the robe and pulled it on, my fingers fumbling with the ties.
My heart was racing. My breath was coming in shallow gasps. My entire body was burning with humiliation.
What did I do?
I tried to remember. The heat. The way I'd felt so restless, so desperate. The way I'd...
I closed my eyes.
I lips against his chest. I touched him.
Oh God.
He was still asleep, his chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths. His face was relaxed, peaceful. His dark lashes fanned against his cheeks.
He looked beautiful and handsome, I hated him for it.
I hated him for making me feel this way. I hated him for the way my body responded to him. I hated him for the way my heart ached whenever I looked at him.
I tried to calm my heartbeat. Tried to steady my breathing. Tried to forget the feel of his skin beneath my cheek. The warmth of his body against mine. The way my hand had been resting on his...ahem ahem.
My head was aching.
A dull, throbbing pain that pulsed behind my eyes. I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to ease the discomfort.
I looked at him and I was grateful.
Because some part of me...some traitorous, desperate part of me was grateful that he hadn't taken advantage of me. Grateful that he had stopped. Grateful that he had held me instead of...
I shook my head.
I was about to escape to the bathroom when I saw him stir.
His eyes fluttered open. It was sleepy and unfocused, then they landed on me.
I froze. My heart stopped. My entire body went rigid with panic.
He was awake.
I began to stand up, desperate to put distance between us. But my foot got tangled in the blanket, and before I could stop myself I fell...directly on top of him.
"Ahhh..." I gasped, my hands bracing against his chest.
I was on his chest again.
I could feel the warmth of his skin beneath my palms. Could feel the steady beat of his heart. Could feel every ridge of muscle beneath my fingers.
"I'm sorry..." I started, my voice breathless.
But then I noticed he wasn't looking at my face. His eyes were fixed somewhere else. Lower.
I followed his gaze and my blood ran cold.
His eyes were on my cleavage.
The thin silk of the nightgown shifted lower, revealing far more than I was comfortable with.
I felt anger surge inside me.
I reached up and grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at me. "Eyes up here, pervert."
He blinked.
And then, slowly, a smirk spread across his face.
"Pervert? Seriously?" He raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with mockery. "It's your fault. Tum mujhe kal raat se seduce kar rahi ho!"
(You've been seducing me since last night!)
My eyes widened.
"Kya..."
(What...)
Before I could finish, he moved.
In one fluid motion, he grabbed me, flipping our positions. The world spun, and suddenly I was on my back, pressed against the soft mattress. He hovered over me, his body caging me in.
I gasped.
"Kartik..."
My hands came up to his chest, pushing against him. But he was too strong. He caught my wrists easily, pinning them above my head.
"You've seduced me," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Aur kal raat tumne jo harkat ki, uske baare mein baat kare?"
(And what about what you did last night? Should we talk about it?)
My cheeks burned.
"Main hosh mein nahi thi!" I hissed, struggling against his grip.
(I wasn't in my senses!)
He leaned closer.
His breath fanned across my lips. Warm. Intoxicating.
"Lekin main toh hosh mein tha," he murmured, his voice husky and deep.
(But I was in my senses.)
My heart pounded. My breath caught in my throat. My entire body was trembling beneath him.
I pushed him away before looking at him.
I folded my arms across my chest, my eyes blazing. "Agar aap is duniya ke akhri mard bhi hote, tab bhi main aapko seduce nahi karti."
(Even if you were the last man on earth, I wouldn't seduce you.)
"Aur ek second..." I held up my hand. "Mujhe kya hi zaroorat hai seduce karne ki?"
(One more second, what need do I have to seduce you?)
He looked at me, his eyes dark and intense.
"Wo tum jaano," he said, his voice low. "Kal raat maine tumhe kuch nahi kaha kyunki mujhe laga tum upset ho. Lekin is shaadi ke liye tum mujhe blame nahi kar sakti."
(You know that.)
(Last night I didn't say anything because I thought you were upset. But you can't blame me for this wedding.)
I blinked.
"Kya?"
(What?)
"Tumhare parents ne kaha tha mujhse ye shaadi karne ke liye," he said, his voice flat. "Aur ye bhi ki tum raazi ho."
(Your parents asked me to marry you. And that you were willing.)
I stared at him.
My mind was reeling. My parents? They had lied to him? They had told him I was willing?
I shook my head in anger. I couldn't believe it. They had lied to Kartik. Just to protect their honour. Just to save face.
"Mere parents ne kaha," I said, my voice trembling with rage, "aur aapne maan liya?"
(My parents said it, and you just believed them?)
He shrugged.
"To aur kya karta main?" he asked, his voice defensive. "Mujhe tumse baat karni thi, lekin kisi ne mujhe mauka hi nahi diya. Mahurat nikla jaa raha hai bol ke mujhe mandap mein bitha diya."
(What else was I supposed to do? I wanted to talk to you, but no one gave me the chance. They kept saying the auspicious time was passing and pushed me to the mandap.)
I laughed.
"Wow. Aapke paas khud ka dimag nahi hai?" I asked, my voice dripping with contempt. "Koi aapke jaise monster se kyun shaadi karega?"
(Wow. Don't you have a mind of your own? Why would anyone want to marry a monster like you?)
Hurt flickered in his eyes.
"Mujhe laga tumhe koi bhi pressurise nahi kar sakta," he said quietly. "Agar tumne ye decision liya hai, toh tumhari marzi shamil hogi."
(I thought no one could force you. If you made this decision, then your will must have been involved.)
And then he turned.
And he walked into the bathroom.
I wanted to be angry. I wanted to hate him. I wanted to blame him for everything.
But I couldn't because he had been lied to. Just like I had been pushed into this.
I heard a knock on the door.
"Chahat beta?" Dadi's voice came from outside. "Jaag gayi tum?"
(Chahat my child? Are you awake?)
She opened the door and walked in.
She was carrying a beautiful lehenga in her arms. It was deep green, with intricate gold embroidery that sparkled in the light.
"Neend puri hui?" she asked adoringly, cupping my cheeks with her soft hands.
(Did you slept well?)
I pulled away from her touch.
"Apke rakshas pote ke saath kisi ko neend nahi aa sakti," I said sharply.
(No one can sleep with your monstrous grandson.)
Dadi's eyes widened.
"Kya..." Her lips curved into a teasing smile. "Tum dono puri raat jaag ke kar kya rahe the...?"
(What...What were you two doing awake all night...?)
My cheeks turned red.
"Dadi!" I exclaimed, mortified.
She chuckled softly.
Then she handed me the lehenga.
"Aaj reception hai, Tum dono ka."
(Today is the reception. Yours and Kartik's.)
I heaved a sigh.
I was so tired. So exhausted. So done with all of this.
The bathroom door opened and Kartik stepped out.
He was wrapped in a towel.
His chest was bare, water still glistening on his skin. His hair was wet, dark strands falling to his forehead.
I tried not to look at him but I couldn't help it.
He looked smoking hot.
My eyes traced the lines of his chest. The ridges of his abdomen. The way the towel hung low on his hips, revealing the V of his muscles.
I bit my lip.
Dadi called out to him. "Kartik beta! Aao."
(Kartik! Come here.)
She handed him an outfit. It was a black colour three suit.
"Tonight is your reception," she said firmly. "Be ready on time. Both of you."
I looked away.
I could feel his eyes on me.
For today, she had given me a simple saree.
It was beautiful, red colour saree. It was simple and elegant. The fabric was soft, flowing.
And suddenly I realised that my stuff is still at my home.
I wanted my stuff. My clothes. My books. My daily essentials. The things that made me feel like me.
I saw Kartik was dressed now.
He stood in front of the dressing mirror, wearing a crisp white shirt and tailored black trousers. His hair was still slightly damp, styled back from his face, his expression unreadable.
He was fastening his watch. It was a sleek, expensive thing that glinted in the light.
I took a breath.
"Kartik..." I started, my voice hesitant. "Mere kapde aur sara saman abhi bhi ghar pe hi hai..."
(My clothes and all my stuff are still at home...)
He didn't look at me.
"Driver se bol dunga," he said flatly, adjusting the watch on his wrist. "Aaj raat tak aa jayega tumhara saman."