Biting her lip, she stepped in front of him and lifted his hand. She slowly unbuttoned his shirt cuff. Pushing the wet fabric up his arm, she leaned down and kissed his forearm, the skin wet and cool against her lips. He shivered. There was a look of complete wonder in his eyes, so she did it again, letting her lips linger on the arm that she’d been so obsessed with, even letting her tongue reach out to lick a drop of rain off his skin.
“Kam,” he said, voice thick. His other hand landed on the inches of bare skin between her sari skirt and blouse. “You…” he whispered, right before lowering his lips on hers.
A simple kiss. A gentle kiss. It wasn’t their first, but it was the first one he initiated, which meant a lot. It was the first one in the rain, with their clothes sopping wet, and a cold wind chilling them in the damp gazebo.
It was their first kiss after she told him how she felt.
And it was everything.
The kiss didn’t stay sweet for long. Just like their other two kisses, he deepened it. His hand was on her cheek, the other still clutching her side. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him as close as she could get him. They fit together perfectly. She belonged here—always. Screw the rain and the cold wind—she was going to stay here, kissing the man she loved, and who loved her back, forever.
Something tugged at her waist and Rohan pulled back, looking a bit shell-shocked with swollen lips. He looked down, and Kamila remembered he was still holding Potato’s leash.
Potato was fine, though. He’d positioned himself on the gazebo floor under one of the bigger roof leaks, head up, lapping happily at the water dripping from the gazebo ceiling.
Kamila giggled, letting her forehead fall to Rohan’s chest.
“He’s a bit of a goof,” Kamila said.
Rohan chuckled, kissing the top of Kamila’s head.
She tilted to look at him. “What happens now?”
He smiled. “First of all, as stunning as you are in that sari, I think we should go home and change. Then we can talk.”
She playfully slapped his chest. “Oh my god, it was the sari, wasn’t it? That’s why you said you loved me. I’m in a soaking-wet sari.”
He tightened his arm around her. “I said I love you because I do. But…” He pulled her in against him. “Maybe the wet sari motivated me to say something today, though.” He started kissing her neck and down her shoulder. “And it’s probably why I’m reluctant to let you go.”
She shivered. It was mostly because Rohan was kissing her neck, but also…itwascold. She was barely dressed. October wasn’t the best time of year for the whole wet-sari-love-scene thing in Canada.
“Let’s go home, Rohan.”
He put the framed photograph back in his bag, and they walked hand in hand back toward the church. This was really happening. Rohan and her. He loved her, too. She couldn’t stop smiling.
“Question,” she said as they crossed the field. “Why were you the only one with the gray hair in the momo picture?”
He snorted. “Like Kamila Hussain would ever go gray naturally.”
Good point. She grinned. “The photo was an excellent groveling gift. Five stars—would recommend to friends. Much better than offering me a third of HNS.” She looked at Potato. “A puppy would have worked, too.”
Without pausing, he reached down and picked up Potato and put him in Kamila’s arms. She hugged the puppy close. Her sari was ruined anyway, and Potato was the best. He licked her face.
“There,” Rohan said. “I just happen to have a puppy for you, too.”
“You can’t just give me this puppy. Someone put in an application to adopt Potato. He belongs to someone else.”
Rohan frowned. “Sure, I can. He belongs to me. I put in the application.”
Kamila laughed as she hugged the squirming dog. “What? Potato isyours? You’re not a dog person! Since when do you want a puppy?”
He looked affronted. “Of course I’m a dog person! You’ve seen me spoil Darcy. I thought I’d be lonely since on Thursday I assumed I’d lost my best friend. So, I went to the Dogapalooza today while waiting for your father, and I put in an application for this puppy. I didn’t know you were acquainted with him. Why do you keep calling him Potato?”
“Because that’s his name.”
“I was thinking of calling him Duke or Max.”
“Those are great names for a dog, but he already has a name. Potato.” She put Potato down so she could keep walking. “Also, you have amazing taste in dogs. Because Darcy and Potato are my favorite dogs in the world. And you can’t give him to me—you have to promise not to give the dog away when you adopt from the shelter.”
