Dammit. I should keep my emotions in check. But if it were only that easy, not when she ignites a fire I can’t resist. And that’s the fucking problem. I’m a puppet when it comes to her.
I take a breath, open the door, and follow her as she marches across the driveway of my home, not sparing me a single glance. When she reaches the front door, she stops, waiting for me to unlock it.
I step ahead of her and unlock the door, but before she can take a step inside, I slide one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back, lifting her off the floor.
Her breath hitches, and her fingers dig into my shoulders. “What are you doing?”
“You see, Mrs. Rathore, there is no one here to perform the welcome rituals. The least I can do is carry my wife across the threshold.”
My wife. Mrs. Rathore.
God. Every time I say it, it feels… right. Too damn right.
“Put me down, Dev. Now,” she says, glaring at me like she wants to murder me.
Grinning, I tighten my hold. “Dev? No ‘Mr. Dev Rathore’? Looks like our marriage is making you awfully comfortable… getting personal with me. I kind of like it.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she fires back. “This marriage means nothing.Youmean nothing. And most importantly, this marriage doesn’t change the fact that I hate you.”
“Hate me all you want, Mrs. Rathore. None of it changes the fact that you’re my wife now. Which comes with consequences… the kind that will kill your peace.”
“Stop your crap and put me down, Dev.”
“No.”
I step across the threshold with her clutching my shirt, her whole body pressed against mine, every furious breath burning against my neck as she struggles against me. And I’m loving every damn second of it. I don’t even know what I enjoy more—how easily I get under her skin, or the feeling of her in my arms. Exactly where she doesn’t want to be… and exactly where I want her.
When we reach my room,ourroom now, I kick the door open, stride inside, and drop her onto the bed.
She bounces slightly, her hair fanning around her like a dark halo. But before she can move, I hover over her, placing my hands on either side, caging her in. We stare at each other for a long moment, frozen. Her breath trembles as she holds my gaze. God, having her here in my room, on my bed, hits me like a punch straight to the gut.
It takes her a moment to react, but finally she presses both hands against my chest and pushes. “Get the hell away from me!”
The shove barely moves me, but I slide off her anyway. She’s on her feet in an instant, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I rise much more slowly, brushing off my shirt deliberately, just to rile her even more.
Her eyes blaze. “Let me make one thing very clear. Don’t you dare ever touch me again.”
I take a step towards her, and she steps back on instinct. We move like that until her back meets the wardrobe with a soft thud. I trap her in, my arms braced on either side of her, my body close enough that her breath catches.
“How many times do I have to make you understand that you’re my wife now. And I… I have every right to…” I lower my voice, letting it scrape against her like a warning.
“You have no rights over me. And don’t you forget what I said earlier. This marriage means nothing to me.”
“We’ll save this argument for later. After all, itisour wedding night, Mrs. Rathore, and I have no intention of wasting it proving you wrong. So drop the anger, and…” I let my gaze linger over her from head to toe, slowly, deliberately, “…the clothes.”
“How dare you even think you can say that to me!” she hisses, glaring at me.
“Looks like I’ll have to do the needful.” A dark smile tugs at my lips as my hand reaches for her dupatta, only for her to clutch it in both fists, pure fire blazing in her eyes.
But before she can let that fury loose, I add, “Relax, Mrs. Rathore. I’m not claiming my rights. Not yet. That will have to wait.”
I pull the wardrobe open, grab one of my shirts, and hold it out to her. “I just thought I’d help you change into something more comfortable.” I lean in slightly, letting the tease slide into my voice. “Also… I can’t wait to see you in my shirt.”
She snatches the shirt from my hand and flings it to the floor. “Go to hell!”
I step back, raising my hands. “As you wish.”
I turn and start walking towards the door when she asks, “Where are you going?”
