[45]APSARA FROM HEAVEN
The haveli slept under a blanket of fog, the kind of morning where the sun is too lazy and the air bites just enough to make the razai feel like the best place in the universe.
Abhiraj was deep in that perfect, heavy sleep (one arm flung above his head, the other curled under the pillow, thick blanket pulled up to his chin, mouth slightly open, hair a glorious mess).
He looked younger in sleep, softer, the ruthless lines of the last ten days smoothed away.
Then,
plip... plip... plip.
Cold water droplets landed on his cheek, his jaw, the hollow of his throat.
He shivered, frowned, instinctively burrowed deeper into the blanket like a bear refusing to wake.
Another drop, this time right on his lips.
A soft, mischievous giggle floated through the air.
Before he could react, an ice-cold palm slid under the blanket and pressed flat against his warm chest.
Another freezing hand curled around the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair.
His entire body jerked; goosebumps exploded down his arms.
His eyes snapped open.
And there she was.
Amisha.
Fresh from the shower, wrapped in a light mint-green cotton saree that clung to every damp curve like it had been painted on.
The fabric was almost translucent where water still clung to her skin, outlining the soft, heavy swell of her seven-month bump, the fuller curve of her hips, the gentle weight of her breasts.
Her long hair was loose and dripping, dark strands sticking to her neck and collarbone, droplets racing down her golden skin like tiny diamonds.
The early winter sun through the window turned every drop into liquid light.
She looked like an apsara who had stepped straight out of a dream and decided to wake him up in the most sinful way possible.
And she was grinning (cheeks flushed from the cold water, eyes sparkling with pure, wicked mischief).
Another cold fingertip traced the nape of his neck deliberately.
Abhiraj's voice came out hoarse, half-asleep, half-aroused.
"Subha-subha devil ban gayi ho tum?"
She leaned closer, letting a fresh drop fall from her hair onto his bare chest.
He hissed, body arching involuntarily.
She laughed (soft, teasing, delighted).
Then she pressed her ice-cold palm flat against his sternum again, watching goosebumps rise on his skin.
Abhiraj's eyes darkened instantly.
Before she could pull away, he moved.
One arm shot out, wrapped around her waist, and yanked her down into the warm nest of blankets with him.
Amisha squealed (half surprise, half laughter) as she landed on his chest, the thick razai pulled up over them both until only her wet head poked out.
The sudden heat against her cold skin made her gasp, eyes wide.
Abhiraj tucked her tightly against him (one hand splayed across her damp back, the other cradling the bump protectively).
"thand lag jayegi, meri jaan," he murmured, voice low and rough with sleep and fondness.
She pretended to shiver dramatically, teeth chattering theatrically.
"Haan... jaise abhi aapko lag rahi thi!"
She wiggled her cold nose against his neck for emphasis.
He groaned, half torture, half pleasure, arms tightening.
"Tu bilkul barf jesi ho gyi hai."
She lifted her head just enough to give him the most innocent, angelic smile (the one that always undid him).
"Sirf aapke liye barf jesi hoon."
His eyes turned molten.
He tilted her chin up with one finger and crashed his lips to her rosy, pouty ones.
The kiss was warm, lazy, and perfect (morning breath and all).
He tasted her slowly (like she was the sweetest thing he'd ever known), tongue brushing hers gently, coaxing soft sounds from her throat.
One hand stayed protectively on her bump, never pressing, just resting, feeling the gentle curve that carried their entire future.
The other hand tangled in her wet hair, angling her head so he could deepen the kiss without ever making her uncomfortable.
She melted into him, hands sliding up to cup his jaw, fingers tracing the stubble she had missed so much.
When they finally parted, foreheads touching, breaths mingling, he brushed his nose against hers.
"Subha-subha aise pareshan karegi toh poora din bed pe hi rakh dunga tujhe."
She laughed breathlessly, eyes shining.
"Promise?"
He kissed her again (soft, lingering, full of quiet love).
"Promise."
Then he pulled the blanket higher, tucking it carefully around her shoulders, her bump, her cold feet.
She snuggled into his chest with a happy sigh, fingers curling into his vest.
He pressed one last kiss to her damp forehead.
"Ab so ja thodi der aur...
tere papa ko bhi thodi neend chahiye teri wajah se."
Abhiraj had her tucked perfectly against him, her back to his chest, both of them half-dozing in that lazy winter-morning doze.
His arms were wrapped around her like a cocoon:
one big palm resting gently on the curve of her seven-month bump, thumb stroking slow, absent circles,
the other hand loosely cupping one soft, heavy breast (not sexual, just... comforting, possessive, loving the new fullness pregnancy had gifted her).
Every few seconds he would press a sleepy kiss to the damp hair at her nape, breathing her in.
Peace.
Pure, warm, perfect peace.
And then,
munch munch crunch
A tiny, unmistakable sound.
Abhiraj's eyes cracked open.
munch munch
He lifted the corner of the blanket just enough to peek.
There she was:
cheeks stuffed like a hamster, eyes half-closed in bliss, two hands clutching a fat piece of gulab sakri
(the pink, syrupy, rose-flavoured sweet he had specially bought for her from Jaipur's famous shop).
Sugar crystals on her lips, a tiny piece of rose petal stuck to her chin.
She was eating straight from the box he had hidden in his suitcase (supposed to be a surprise for later).
Abhiraj's chest shook with silent laughter.
He pulled the blanket down fully.
Amisha froze mid-bite, eyes wide, mouth full.
He raised an eyebrow, voice still rough with sleep and pure amusement.
"Subha-subha chori kar rahi ho meri biwi?"
She tried to speak, but her mouth was too full.
"Mmmph!"
Crumbles fell on the blanket.
He laughed harder, the sound deep and delighted.
She finally swallowed, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand like a guilty child, and pointed an accusing finger at him.
"Chup raho!
Khane ke liye hi toh laaye the na?
Toh khane do!"
Abhiraj couldn't stop grinning.
He reached over, broke off a piece from the block in her hand, and popped it into his own mouth.
"Haan haan, khao khao.
Meri pregnant biwi ko jo mann kare, woh khaana hai."
She narrowed her eyes, then deliberately took the biggest bite possible, cheeks bulging again.
He leaned in, kissed the corner of her sugary mouth, tasting rose and her.
"Ek baat batao," he murmured, licking a bit of syrup from her lower lip.
"Tum itni sweet ho... ya yeh sakri tumhe sweet bana rahi hai?"
Amisha stuffed another piece into his mouth to shut him up.
He chewed obediently, still laughing, arms tightening around her and the bump.