Aaditha’s eyes are on mine.
‘I hope you know what you are doing, Ved,’ she says after what feels like an eternity, ‘because I seem to be slipping.’
25.
Aaditha
Circle of Love
The Presidential Suite is a ginormous space, big enough to host an empire and its cousins.
Vedveer opens the door, holds it open and follows me in. My eyes roam the rooms before I turn to face him.
My heart is hammering madly.
He shrugs off his blazer lazily, his eyes caressing my bare arms.
For a moment, I stand before him transfixed. The devilish grin he wears snaps me awake. I dash around and relieve him of his coat.
‘At your service, Your Highness,’ I say, tossing his blazer aside and wrapping my arms around him from behind.
I hold him tight, crushing him to me. I want to devour him.
This ache of wanting to be around him, feel his warmth, touch his taut muscles, knot fingers, brush lips… say everything, say nothing, scares me.
I never allowed myself to acknowledge what I feel for Vedveer, the attraction, the desire, the electricity… It was crazy, but I controlled it.
Maybe because I didn’t have a good enough answer towhy me. Not until he walked through my door this evening, breakingwalls and putting his heart on the line.
Is this how love feels?
‘I was thinking of changing, but I’m having second thoughts,’ he says, breaking my hold.
He pulls me up on his back; my legs flap behind us as he heads in the direction of the bedroom.
I nibble at his ear. ‘Go on, change. I don’t want to be accused of being unfair.’
Vedveer puts me down and grabs me by the waist. He looks at me, not like he’s reaching into my soul but like he is stoking a fire that is already wild with longing… I feel my heart, but I shush it.
‘Feel free to join me,’ he says, stretching out his hand.
I shake my head. ‘At the very least, I hope I’m marrying a man capable of throwing on his own clothes.’
Vedveer’s laugh is a hoot. ‘I enjoy conversations about ability and capability.’
‘I rather prefer the action,’ I say, pulling the door hard behind me.
I look around me. The place is so roomy, the million impulses running riot in me have enough space to get lost here.
Soft amber light pools from wall sconces that wash over the polished wooden floor. Cream curtains frame tall windows that look out onto busy thoroughfares scattered with gold dots.
The air smells of sandalwood and candle wax.
I make my way into the lounge.
At one end is a heavy bar counter on which a matt gold ice bucket sits. It carries three bottles of wine. Different brands of the same grape.
Vedveer joins me in the lounge area. He is wearing a dark-chocolate linen shirt on blue denims. He has sports sliders on his feet.
