19
The first thing Adhira registered was the crushing, delicious weight anchoring her to the mattress.
Golden morning light was filtering through the sheer curtains, casting warm stripes across the tangled duvet. Adhira blinked her heavy eyes open, her brain slowly catching up to the fact that she wasn't in her own childhood bed anymore.
She turned her head slightly and stopped breathing entirely.
Shreyash was completely wrapped around her.
The boy who had spent months terrified of accidentally brushing her shoulder in the library was currently clinging to her like she was his only oxygen supply.
His long leg was thrown heavily over hers, trapping her thighs.
His arm was wrapped securely around her waist beneath the blankets, pulling her flush against his chest, and his face was buried deep in the curve of her neck.
Every time he exhaled, a soft, rhythmic puff of hot breath fanned across her sensitive skin, sending a localized shiver straight down her spine.
Adhira lay perfectly still, her heart kicking into a wild, frantic gallop.
In sleep, the rigid 'Good Boy' mask was completely gone.
His face was relaxed, his dark lashes resting against his cheekbones, his lips parted slightly against her collarbone.
He looked beautiful. Raw, unguarded, and so incredibly handsome that it physically ached.
A heavy, pooling heat settled low in her stomach. She wanted nothing more than to shift her weight, slide her hands into his messy dark hair, and kiss him until neither of them could think straight. She wanted to wake him up with exactly the kind of trouble he had so stubbornly avoided last night.
She tilted her chin, her lips parting as she leaned down toward his mouth.
And then she paused. She closed her mouth, exhaling softly through her nose.
Morning breath.
Adhira groaned internally, letting her head fall back against the pillow with a soft, defeated thud. The sheer tragedy of human biology. She absolutely refused to let her first real, uninterrupted kiss as his wife taste like stale sleep.
"You are so incredibly lucky, Senior," she grumbled affectionately, keeping her voice to a low, barely-there whisper so she wouldn't wake him. She reached up, gently brushing a lock of dark hair off his forehead. "If I had a mint right now, your gentlemanly streak wouldn't stand a chance."
As if he subconsciously heard her threat, Shreyash shifted. He let out a low, gravelly hum in his sleep, his arm tightening around her waist as he pulled her even tighter against his solid chest, completely burying her in the warm, intoxicating scent of him.
Adhira closed her eyes, a helpless, radiant smile spreading across her face.
The dining room was a loud, chaotic symphony of clinking steel plates, sizzling oil from the kitchen, and overlapping conversations.
Adhira sat at the large wooden table, wearing a simple, soft yellow salwar kameez, sipping her sweet tea. Directly across from her, Savita ji was animatedly scolding Shreyash's younger brother, Rohan, about his exam schedule, while Shreyash's father read the newspaper.
And right beside Adhira sat Shreyash.
He was freshly showered, wearing a crisp navy-blue polo shirt that hugged the broad lines of his shoulders.
He was the picture of an ideal, respectful son—eating his poha quietly, nodding at his father's occasional comments about the stock market, looking utterly composed and completely back in his element.
Adhira stared at his sharp profile, a wicked, restless energy humming beneath her skin. He looked entirely too calm for a man who had basically kidnapped her under a duvet twelve hours ago.
Underneath the large, draping tablecloth, Adhira slipped her bare foot out of her velvet slipper.
She stretched her leg out, the cold linoleum floor sliding beneath her heel, until she found the solid, denim-clad calf of her husband.
Shreyash didn't react immediately. He was lifting his steaming cup of tea to his lips, listening intently to his father.
Adhira didn't hesitate. She dragged her bare toes slowly, deliberately up the back of his calf, feeling the hard, coiled muscle tense instantly beneath the denim.
She didn't stop there. She hooked her foot around his leg and slid her sole higher, trailing a slow, agonizing path of friction past his knee, directly up his inner thigh.
Shreyash inhaled half a cup of scalding hot tea straight into his windpipe.
He violently choked, slamming his cup down onto the saucer with a loud clatter that silenced the entire table.
He turned away, coughing uncontrollably, his chest heaving as his hands gripped the edge of the wooden table so hard his knuckles turned bone-white.
The deep, explosive red instantly surged up his neck, practically radiating heat.
"Shreyash!" his mother gasped, dropping her serving spoon and rushing over to pat his back. "Careful, beta! Are you alright? Drink some water!"
"I'm..." Shreyash choked out, his voice a wrecked, raspy wheeze. He squeezed his eyes shut, coughing violently into his napkin. "I'm fine, ma."
Adhira sat perfectly still, the picture of absolute, serene innocence. She tilted her head, batting her long eyelashes at him.
"Do you need some water, Shreyash?" she asked, her voice dripping with sweet, wifely concern, even as her toes pressed firmly higher against his thigh beneath the table.
Shreyash's head snapped toward her, his dark eyes slightly watering, completely wild and filled with a frantic, desperate warning.
He looked at her perfectly composed face, then down at the tablecloth, his chest rising and falling in harsh, panicked breaths.
He reached under the table, his large hand clamping down blindly over her ankle like a vice, trying to physically stop her assault.
"No," he rasped out, his voice strained to the breaking point. His fingers squeezed her ankle, a silent, desperate plea. "I have had quite enough, thank you."
The bedroom floor was an obstacle course of half-unpacked suitcases, cardboard boxes, and piles of folded clothes.
Adhira was standing on her tiptoes in front of the massive wooden wardrobe, trying to push a heavy stack of winter sweaters onto the top shelf.
Shreyash was on the other side of the room, silently folding his shirts and pretending he wasn't hyper-aware of her every movement since the breakfast incident.
"This is ridiculous," Adhira muttered, straining upward, the soft fabric of her yellow kameez pulling tight across her back. "Who designed these shelves? Giants?"
She gave the sweaters one final, aggressive shove. But as she stepped back, the heel of her bare foot caught hard on the metal zipper of a duffel bag left on the floor.
Her ankle twisted sharply. The world violently tilted as she lost her balance, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as she pitched backward toward the hard wooden edge of the bedside table.
She didn't even hit the ground.
Shreyash moved with terrifying, blinding speed. He dropped the shirts, crossing the room in two massive strides. Before Adhira could even register the fall, a thick, incredibly strong arm wrapped around her waist.
He hauled her upward, twisting his body so that he took her full momentum.
Adhira crashed solidly into the hard, unyielding wall of his chest. His right arm was locked like an iron band around her waist, completely suspending her off the ground for a split second, while his other hand came up to cup the back of her head, protecting her from hitting the furniture.
The silence that crashed over the room was deafening.
Adhira's hands were planted flat against his chest. Beneath her palms, his heart was hammering with the heavy, violent force of a jackhammer. She looked up, her breath catching in her throat.
Shreyash was staring down at her, his face inches from hers. He was breathing heavily from the sudden exertion, his gaze intense, not with buried passion, but with absolute, terrified concern.
"Adhira? Are you okay?" he demanded, his deep voice sounding rough and frantic.
He completely ignored the proximity, his analytical brain only assessing her for injury.
He tightened his grip around her waist to steady her, his long fingers pressing firmly into the soft curve of her hip.
"Did you twist your ankle? Did you hit anything? "
He was completely oblivious to the sensual devastation he was causing.
Where his large hand gripped her waist, his long fingers dug possessively into the soft curve of her hip, the raw, radiating heat of his palm burning straight through the thin cotton of her kameez and branding itself against her bare skin.
Adhira stared at him, unable to form a coherent thought. She was completely overwhelmed by his sheer, proximity. The clean, masculine scent of him, of the soap, freshly laundered cotton, and that intoxicating hint of sandalwood completely enveloped her.
She looked up at his face, framed by the dark hair falling over his forehead, and felt her knees go weak all over again.
The protective intensity in his dark eyes, the harsh line of his jaw, the sheer, solid strength of the chest her hands were currently resting upon.
It was a sudden, tidal wave of raw, manly charm that she was completely unprepared for.
He was seducing her with his protective instinct, and he didn't have the slightest idea he was doing it.
"Adhira?" he repeated, his brow furrowing as she just stared at him. "Are you dizzy? Can you hear me?"
He leaned his head down, trying to get her to focus on his eyes, completely unaware that closing the distance was making her blood practically sing with want.
"I... I'm okay," she whispered, her own voice incredibly shaky.
He let out a long, audible exhale of pure relief. "Oh, thank god," he murmured, his gaze softening. He didn't let her go immediately, just held her there, ensuring she was steady, his fingers still locked against her hip.
"Bhai!"
Rohan's loud, obnoxious voice echoed sharply from the hallway, followed by three heavy knocks on the door. "Dad needs you to move the car! He's blocked in!"
Shreyash jolted as if he'd been shot.
He released her so fast it almost felt like a rejection, taking two massive, stumbling steps backward, running both his shaking hands through his dark hair. The familiar, furious scarlet immediately flooded his neck and cheeks, completely replacing the initial panic.
"I... I have to go," he choked out, completely avoiding her eyes, turning toward the door like a man fleeing a burning building. He grabbed the handle, his knuckles white. "Be careful. Please."
He didn't wait for her to answer. He practically bolted from the room, the door clicking shut behind him.
Adhira stood frozen in the middle of the chaotic bedroom, her heart pounding frantically against her ribs.
She slowly reached down, her trembling fingers pressing against her own waist. The heavy, searing heat of his handprint was still branded into her skin, a physical, burning promise of exactly what was going to happen when there were no more interruptions.