My eyes squeezed shut. If I looked at him now, I would fall. Completely.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
It wasn’t a command.
It wasn’t a plea.
It was both.
His hand cupped my cheek, warm and steady. His thumb stroked the curve of my jaw, anchoring me, pulling me gently from the edge of the spiral I was barely holding off.
“Kiara,” he said again, leaning in.
His forehead touched mine, and his breath ghosted against my skin, soft and uneven. I could feel the way he was holding himself together, just barely.
“Open your eyes… please.”
So I did.
And there he was.
His face was barely inches from mine.
His eyes—dark, open, and aching.
“I didn’t want to leave like that,” I whispered, the tears finally slipping free.
His brows pinched slightly, but he didn’t pull back.
“I’ve been running from everything—my past, my mistakes, my heart…” I met his gaze fully now, even as my voice trembled. “But then I met you… And it got harder to run.”
His thumb brushed a tear from my cheek, slow and gentle. “Then don’t.”
Fake relationships were supposed to come with boundaries. Rules. Some kind of damn instruction manual. But this? This was him. This wasn’t fiction. This was chaos with a jawline.
His thumb continued its lazy, unconscious strokes against my cheekbone, the soft yet maddening touch making it impossible to think straight. His eyes—deep, intense, and unreadable—locked onto mine as though daring me to look away. I felt every nerve in my body ignite when I pulled up the strap that had slipped down my shoulder. Manav’s gaze followed the movement like a magnet, and then his husky voice broke the charged silence.
“Cheeseball,” he murmured, his tone low and rough, “You need to stop walking around like a lingerie model.”
My breath hitched as his finger brushed lightly against the line of my neck, tracing an invisible path down to my collarbone before stopping. His eyes dropped briefly to my lips. I was suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of my body.
My eyes fluttered shut as I tried to ground myself, but it was futile. My hands were itching to move—itching to slip around his neck and pull him closer, to let myself fall into the inevitable.
His mouth hovered dangerously close to my jaw, his breaths deep and uneven. His fingers, warm and slightly trembling, slid to the side of my neck, igniting a trail of fire wherever they touched. I stepped closer, and his lips were now just inches from mine.
His eyes were half-lidded, and watching him come undone like this was far too intoxicating. The control, the restraint he always carried, was slipping through him. And I was enjoying it far too much.
His fingers tighten slightly against my neck. His lips were so close now that I could feel his breath minglingwith mine. My fingers lightly traced circles on his chest. His sharp intake of breath was all the encouragement I needed. My fingers drifted down to rest against his exposed chest.
“Kiara…” his breaths were uneven, and his eyes were trying to read something in my eyes as my fingers trailed down to the first button of his shirt. Without breaking eye contact, I unbuttoned it slowly, savoring the way his breathing hitched. Then, emboldened by his reaction, I reached for the next.
Before I could go further, his hand gently but firmly caught my wrist. For a moment, the world seemed to stop as he held my hand against his chest, the wild thrum of his heart beneath my fingers betraying the calm facade he was trying to maintain. And then, with a swift but careful move, he pinned me against the counter, his forehead resting against mine.
“Don’t test my patience…” He growled, his breath hot and ragged against my lips. “I have none left.”
His eyes bore into mine. His hands trembled slightly, hovering just shy of my waist, like he was fighting every instinct to touch me the way he wanted to.
Forget every version of Manav Oberoi I’d encountered before—this one was my favorite. Intense, unguarded, teetering on the edge of control. His eyes—dark, hungry—held me captive. His breath was sharp and uneven. His heartbeat thudded against mine.
