As if I could.
I wince out of habit but it doesn’t hurt anymore.
Guilt crashes through me when I see her face twist with emotion at the realization. That she just poked my wounded shoulder.
So I try to bring my smirk back. It doesn’t come. Because all I’m feeling right now is that this was probably ourlast kiss.And my heart gives a painful jolt of loss.
“That was...” she sobers quickly.
Her lips are swollen, her breath ragged. Her hair’s a mess. And her eyes...God, her eyes look like she just survived something. Survivedme.
“A mistake?” I finish quietly.
Her head jerks back as she stares at me incredulously. “What?No!Of course not.”
I’m... confused?
“I’m confused,” I say dumbly.
I’m confused.
But for the first time in three years, my heart isn’t breaking. It’s just—waiting.
I step back. Tilt my head. And juststudyher.
Her cheeks are still flushed with residual heat—anger, lust, confusion, probably all three. But what really gets me is the way her breathing’s shallow, like she can’t quite catch up with herself.
She’s avoiding my eyes now. Her body shifting, grounding, like she’s trying to shake something off.
“This was a moment of...” she starts to say, but trails off just as easily.
I try to offer her a way out again. Foolishly. Stupidly.
“Weakness?” I finish, smiling just a little.
Her head snaps up, giving me a blank stare. “Stop completing my sentences. You’re not even in thevicinityof accuracy.”
Okay. She’s back to herself. Sort of.
But that light snap in her voice? That’s Aadya. And a little bit ofoldGreesha. Sharp-tongued. Viciously charming. And then she shifts again—like theold Greesha’sjust a costume she’s trying on after years in storage perhaps. I can see her restraint pulsing beneath.
I study her face again, like it’s a puzzle that won’t stopchanging.
“Okay...” I say carefully. “Then whatwasthis?”
She frowns. Like she’s trying to find words. “A... lust-filled angry kiss. Because you were being reckless. And it made me furious.”
I blink. Then smother a grin. “So this is what I have to do to get kissed now?Endangermyself?”
Her expression flattens. Deadpan.
“It’s not happening again, Mr. Sharma. Even though...” she adds with a shrug, “I’m glad you were...decentat it.”
Decent? My brows rise.The fuck?
She raises one too. “Been practicing?” she asks, with the kind of faux sweetness.
I squint, narrowing my eyes. “It wasbetterthandecent, sweetheart.”
