21
"I am going to throw this laptop out the window. I am going to watch it shatter into a thousand pieces, and then I am going to change my major to literature."
Adhira dropped her head onto the wooden desk with a dull, defeated thud, her hands tangling aggressively in her own hair.
On the screen, the Java compiler mocked her with a wall of angry, glowing red syntax errors.
It was past nine on a Tuesday evening, and her second-year data structures assignment had officially broken her spirit.
From the bed behind her, she heard the soft rustle of paper being set down.
"Don't change your major just yet," Shreyash's voice was a low, soothing rumble in the quiet room. "Literature has a lot of reading. You'd hate it."
She heard his footsteps cross the carpet, but she didn't lift her head.
"Here, let me see."
Instead of pulling up a separate chair, Shreyash stepped right up behind her.
He placed his hands on the armrests of her wide desk chair and smoothly spun her a slight turn.
Before she could process his movement, he stepped in close, turning her back toward the screen, and simply stepped behind her chair.
He leaned down, his broad chest pressing firmly against the back of her shoulders.
Adhira's breath hitched instantly.
He didn't stop there. He reached forward, completely wrapping both of his long, incredibly solid arms around her to reach the keyboard.
The action effectively trapped her in a cage made entirely of him.
His forearms brushed against the sides of her waist, the sleeves of his soft cotton shirt grazing her bare arms. He rested his chin lightly near her temple, his cheek practically brushing her hair.
"You're overcomplicating the logic," he murmured, his voice a deep, resonant vibration that shot straight from his chest into her spine. His fingers began to fly across the keys, swift and confident. "You're trying to force the array to sort before the memory is fully allocated. Look right here."
Adhira tried to look at the screen. She really did.
But all she could focus on was the devastating, heavy heat of his body blanketing her from behind.
The clean, intoxicating scent of sandalwood and his skin filled her lungs with every breath she took.
Every time he shifted his weight to hit the 'Enter' key, the hard muscles of his chest shifted against her back, sending a liquid, melting heat pooling low in her stomach.
"Do you see the mismatch?" he asked softly, completely oblivious to the fact that her brain had just flatlined. He leaned in just a fraction closer to point at the screen, his lips grazing the shell of her ear.
Adhira let out a soft, involuntary shudder, leaning her head back slightly until it rested securely against his collarbone. She completely melted into his hold, entirely abandoning the code.
"No," she breathed, her voice incredibly husky. "I don't see anything. My brain is completely empty right now. And its all your fault."
Shreyash paused his typing. His hands went still on the keyboard.
Slowly, the focus drained out of him, replaced by the sudden, terrifying realization of exactly how he was holding her. He swallowed hard, the movement pronounced against her shoulder. He didn't pull away, but his breathing instantly turned shallow and erratic.
"Adhira," he rasped, his voice tightening, his fingers curling against the edge of the laptop.
"Fix it for me, Senior," she whispered, turning her head just enough so her lips brushed against the line of his jaw. "Because as long as you're sitting like this, I'm never going to learn how to do this."
Shreyash let out a heavy, ragged sigh, his eyes fluttering shut. His arms tightened around her waist for one long, agonizing second, pulling her impossibly flush against him, before he forced himself to focus back on the screen, his typing noticeably more aggressive than before.
The weekend mall was a chaotic blur of neon lights and heavy foot traffic.
Savita ji was in her element, ruthlessly hunting through the racks of a high-end ethnic wear store. Shreyash was standing obediently outside the fitting rooms, holding three of his mother's shopping bags, looking completely out of place in his sharp black button-down and dark jeans.
"Shreyash!" his mother called out from the next aisle, holding up a heavily embroidered suit. "Go knock on Adhira's door. Ask her if she needs the maroon one in a medium or a large. Quickly now!"
Shreyash sighed, adjusting the bags on his wrist. He walked up to fitting room number four and raised his hand, rapping his knuckles politely against the slatted wood.
"Adhira? Ma wants to know if you need..."
The door opened and flew inward.
A hand shot out, grabbing him fiercely by the front of his black shirt, and yanked him forward with shocking strength.
Before Shreyash could even formulate a sound of protest, he was dragged into the tiny, brightly lit cubicle.
The door slammed shut behind him, the metal lock sliding into place with a sharp, definitive click.
Shreyash stumbled forward, dropping the shopping bags. He caught himself, his hands flying out to grip Adhira's waist to steady them both.
He looked down, ready to scold her, and the words completely evaporated from his brain.
Adhira wasn't wearing an ethnic suit. She had found a slinky, midnight-blue western top.
The silk clung to her ribs like a second skin, but it was the neckline that completely destroyed him.
It was a deep, plunging cowl neck that left her collarbones bare and exposed a devastating, shadowed expanse of cleavage.
"Adhira," Shreyash choked out, his eyes widening in absolute, horrified panic. He immediately squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head away so fast his neck popped. "What are you doing? Ma is literally right outside!"
"Let her look at the clothes," Adhira purred, completely unbothered. The fitting room was incredibly small, forcing them to stand mere inches apart.
She took a step forward, trapping him between the mirrored wall and her body. She reached up, wrapping her arms securely around his neck, pressing the soft, exposed curve of her chest directly against the hard wall of his chest.
Shreyash let out a fractured groan, his entire body going completely, rigidly stiff. His hands were still planted on her waist, and he could feel the terrifying heat of her skin through the thin silk.
"Adhira, stop," he pleaded, his voice a frantic, breathless whisper. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, his chest heaving violently. "If she calls for me..."
"Then she won't hear you," she whispered back, leaning up on her tiptoes.
She didn't give him another second to protest. She reached up, her fingers tangling deep into his dark hair, and pulled his head down, crashing her mouth firmly against his.
Shreyash jolted as if he'd been struck by lightning. He made a muffled, desperate sound in the back of his throat, his hands convulsing on her hips, completely paralyzed by the sudden, overwhelming sensory overload.
Adhira didn't hold back. When he gasped in shock, she immediately took advantage, parting his lips and sweeping her tongue straight into his mouth.
She tasted him deeply, hot and demanding, completely taking control of the kiss.
She backed him up until his broad shoulders hit the mirror, pinning him there.
Her tongue stroked against his, a slow, filthy rhythm that completely bypassed his logic and short circuited his brain.
He couldn't fight her and he was completely at her mercy.
His hands gripped her waist like a drowning man holding onto a lifeline, his long fingers trembling violently against her curves.
He didn't take over, he just surrendered, his knees actually buckling slightly as he let out a low, incredibly raw whimper into her mouth, melting entirely under her aggressive affection.
"Shreyash?"
The sharp, sudden sound of Savita ji's voice directly outside the slatted door cut through the heavy air like a knife. The rustling of shopping bags accompanied her footsteps. "Shreyash, where did you go?"
"Are you in the fitting room? What are you doing in there?!" His mother's voice boomed.
Shreyash tore his mouth away from hers so quickly he nearly hit his head against the glass.
Both of them froze instantly. Shreyash was hyperventilating, his chest heaving in massive, ragged gasps.
His eyes were wide, dilated, and filled with absolute, unadulterated terror.
His lips were swollen, flushed cherry red, and visibly wet from her tongue.
He stared down at Adhira, his heart hammering against her chest like a trapped bird.
"I..." he choked, his voice cracking into a high, panicked octave. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to regulate his breathing before his mother busted the door down. "The... the zipper, Ma! Her zipper is stuck! I'm helping her!"
"Well, hurry up! People are waiting!" his mother scolded from the other side, her footsteps thankfully retreating.
Shreyash sagged against the mirror, running both his shaking hands down his face. The deep, furious red had completely overtaken his neck and cheeks, radiating heat like an oven. "I am going straight to hell," he wheezed, his voice absolutely wrecked.
"She doesn't know anything, you don't need to worry so much." Adhira whispered, biting her lip to hold back a wicked laugh. She reached up, casually wiping a smudge of her lip gloss off the corner of his mouth. "And besides we're married you know..."
She turned around, effortlessly unlocked the door, and stepped out into the brightly lit store, looking absolutely flawless and entirely composed.
It took Shreyash another ten seconds to gather the dropped shopping bags and stumble out after her. He looked like he had just survived a natural disaster, as his hair was completely messed up, his chest was still rising and falling unevenly, and he couldn't look anyone in the eye.
As he practically hid behind the large paper bags, burning with embarrassment, Adhira turned back toward him. She caught his terrified, dark eyes over the rim of the shopping bags, completely ignored the crowded store, and gave him a slow, devastating, and entirely shameless smirk.