He didn’t finish. Maybe he couldn’t.
And then—he snapped.
With a sudden, fluid motion, he spun us around. My back hit the counter—a startled gasp caught in my throat—and just before his mouth crashed into mine, I caught the word he muttered: “Fuck.” Low, raw, and desperate.
This kiss wasn’t careful. It was a wildfire—that felt like it had been waiting for years.
His tongue swept through my mouth with hungry precision, like he needed to memorize every inch, to claim it. The taste of him—heat and whiskey and something uniquely his—sent my head spinning. It was overwhelming in the most glorious way: hot, breathless, unrestrained.
His hand threaded deeper into my hair, angling my face just right. I gasped when his thumb traced soft, teasing circles along my neck, and when a helpless moan escaped me, he froze for half a second.
Then he lost it.
His grip tightened, a tremor ran through him, and I felt it—his restraint unraveling, his control hanging by a thread. Every kiss, every touch radiated with tension barely contained, like he’d been holding back for far too long.
And in that moment, one singular thought pulsed through me, loud and sure:
Nothing had ever felt so perfectly, dangerously right.
18 ♥?Manav
“I’m asking you one last time—why the hell didn’t I receive the project file last night?” My voice was cold, clipped. “Do I need to remind you how important this meeting is? Or is this your new way of getting yourself fired?”
Justin was skating on dangerously thin ice today. With the board meeting in less than thirty minutes and no complete data in sight, I was two seconds from detonating.
“S-sorry, sir… I had an emergency. I’ll send over the records right away—give me one minute,” he stammered through the line.
“No need,” I snapped, slamming the fridge shut and disconnecting the call.
“All good?” Kartik’s voice drifted in, calm as ever. I turned to find him standing in the kitchen doorway, coffee in hand.
“Yeah… apparently, family emergencies are more important than board meetings now.”
“Don’t stress. I’ve got it covered,” Kartik said, stepping into the room. “The final sales report is done. Data’s prepped.”
“Fire him,” I said flatly, the glass in my hand trembling just enough to betray the tension coiled in my shoulders.
“Who?” Kartik frowned, pausing mid-sip.
“Justin.”
He blinked. “Are you serious? He’s your right hand. You can’t just fire people for breathing wrong.”
“Yes, I can. And if you don’t stop nagging, I’ll fire you next,” I snapped, the anger bubbling too fast, too hot.
What the hell is wrong with me today?
Oh. Right.
Her.
The girl who’d spent the past few weeks unraveling the tight seams of my carefully controlled life… was gone.
Just like that.
No explanation. No goodbye. Just a stupid note on the bedside table.
Not that I’d been expecting flowers or fireworks, but damn—anote?
