18
The heavy wooden door of the bedroom clicked shut, sealing them off from the chaotic symphony of Shreyash's bustling family home. Outside, muffled laughter and the clattering of steel pots still echoed from the kitchen, but inside the room, the silence was so thick it felt like a physical weight.
Adhira leaned against the door, the thirty-pound bridal lehenga feeling like a cage of gold and silk, the heavy necklace digging into her collarbones.
Across the room, Shreyash stood near the edge of the large, flower-strewn bed. He had taken off his turban, his dark hair delightfully messy. He looked at her, his eyes wide and panicked, standing so rigidly he looked like he was bracing for an impact.
"You can breathe, Senior," Adhira murmured, pushing off the door. The heavy bells of her anklets chimed a slow, deliberate rhythm as she crossed the carpet. She didn't stop until she was mere inches from him.
She turned her back to him, lifting her heavy, jasmine-woven braid over her shoulder, completely exposing the bare, shivering skin of her nape and upper back.
"Help me," she commanded softly. "My fingers are too tired, and there are about fifty safety pins holding this torture device together."
Shreyash let out a fractured, shaky exhale. She felt the hesitant, trembling heat of his hands before they even made contact. His large fingers brushed against her bare shoulder, sending a violent, electric spark straight down her spine as he fumbled with the heavy gold clasp of her necklace.
"Your hands are shaking," she teased, tilting her head back slightly.
"You're... you're very close, Adhira," he rasped, his voice dropping an octave as he finally unhooked the heavy gold piece, carefully setting it on the vanity.
"Take it off, Shreyash," she whispered, her dark eyes locking onto his flushed face in the mirror as his trembling fingers moved down to the pins securing the heavy dupatta to her blouse. "I let the aunties drape me in all this heavy silk just so you could be the one to take it off."
Shreyash let out a strangled sound. He managed to pull the last pin free, letting the heavy dupatta slide off her shoulders and pool onto the floor. The moment she was free of it, he took a large, frantic step backward, putting a desperate foot of distance between them.
Adhira smiled softly at his panic. She gathered her heavy skirt. "I'm going to wash off this makeup," she murmured, walking toward the attached bathroom. "Go change out of that sherwani before you completely overheat."
Thirty minutes later, the bathroom door clicked open.
The heavy armor of the wedding was gone. Adhira had scrubbed the dark kohl from her eyes and brushed out the heavy hairspray. She stepped into the bedroom wearing a simple, deep crimson silk nightgown that clung perfectly to her curves, the thin straps leaving her shoulders entirely bare.
Shreyash was already changed, standing by the edge of the bed in a soft grey t-shirt and cotton pajama pants.
His face was freshly washed, his damp hair falling over his forehead without his glasses to hold it back.
He looked devastatingly domestic, but the moment he looked up and saw her in the clinging silk, he froze entirely.
He aggressively cleared his throat, running a hand nervously through his damp hair, his gaze immediately darting to the floorboards.
"Which... which side of the bed do you prefer?" he choked out, grasping blindly at the most mundane question he could find to keep his brain from short-circuiting. "I can take the left, if you..."
Adhira didn't let him finish.
She stepped directly into his space, her bare feet silent against the carpet. She reached out, grabbing the soft cotton of his t-shirt. With a sudden, fierce surge of energy, she walked him backward until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. She pushed, hard.
Shreyash tumbled backward onto the flower-strewn bed with a heavy thud, a sharp gasp escaping his lips.
Before he could even attempt to sit up, Adhira climbed onto the bed, swinging a leg over his hips and straddling him perfectly. The cool silk of her gown blanketed his legs.
"I don't want a side," she whispered, leaning down, her hands planting flat on his chest, directly over his wildly racing heart. "I'm going to sleep on you."
Shreyash looked up at her, completely paralyzed. His eyes were blown wide, his lips parted. Beneath her palms, his chest was rising and falling in shallow, jagged bursts. The scarlet flush had completely overtaken his face again, painting his ears, his jaw, and the bridge of his nose.
Adhira let out a soft, wicked laugh, tracing the edge of his collar with her fingernail. "Look at you," she murmured, a deeply satisfied smirk on her lips. "I'm the one in the nightgown, but you look exactly like the blushing bride."
"Adhira... please," he managed to rasp, his hands hovering nervously in the air near her waist, terrified to touch her bare skin, terrified not to. "It's late. We... we need to sleep."
"I don't feel like sleeping." She leaned her weight forward, her damp, loose hair falling like a dark curtain around them, sealing them in a heated, intimate cocoon.
She lowered her face until their noses were almost brushing.
"Do you know what that color does to me, Shreyash?
Every time your face turns this red, it just makes me want to completely ruin your composure.
I want to see what happens when you finally snap. "
Shreyash squeezed his eyes shut, a heavy, agonized groan vibrating deep in his throat.
Adhira didn't hold back. She leaned in, tilting her head, and slowly, deliberately, dragged the flat of her tongue along the seam of his lower lip.
The reaction was explosive.
A massive jolt went through Shreyash's entire body. His eyes flew open, dark and utterly wild.
But instead of giving in to the seduction, his protective, gentlemanly instincts hijacked his panicked brain.
His large hands clamped down on her waist with a bruising, possessive force. In one swift, incredibly powerful motion, he rolled them over. Adhira gasped as the world violently tilted, suddenly finding herself flat on her back against the mattress, with Shreyash looming over her.
Her heart soared, expecting him to finally devour her.
Instead, he immediately collapsed his weight, wrapping his arms securely around her back and burying her face firmly against the crook of his neck.
He reached blindly with one hand, grabbing the heavy duvet and throwing it over both of them, completely cocooning her against his blazing hot chest. His grip was iron-clad, a human fortress locking her down.
"Go to sleep, Adhira," he ordered. His voice wasn't stuttering or shy anymore; it was a rough, gravelly, absolute command that left no room for argument.
"Shreyash..." she mumbled, her lips brushing against his racing pulse.
"Sleep," he repeated fiercely, his hand moving up to cup the back of her head, holding her flush against him.
He was breathing heavily, his entire body rigid with the sheer, monumental effort of holding himself back.
"You've been awake for twenty hours. You're exhausted.
I am not letting you start something right now that you don't have the energy to finish. Close your eyes."
Adhira tried to squirm, opening her mouth to protest his stubborn nobility.
But the moment she settled against the solid, comforting heat of his chest, surrounded by the intoxicating scent of his clean skin and the soft cotton of his shirt, the sheer adrenaline of the massive Indian wedding abruptly crashed.
Her heavy eyelids fluttered. The exhaustion seeped into her bones, sudden and completely overwhelming. She let out a soft, defeated sigh, her arms wrapping lazily around his waist.
"You're the most annoying genius I've ever met," she mumbled sleepily into his collarbone.
"I know," he whispered back, his hold on her softening just a fraction, his lips pressing a long, desperate kiss to the top of her damp hair. "Goodnight, wife."