He carries me to the bed and lowers me carefully, adjusting my position so my back rests comfortably against theheadboard, pillows supporting me, all the while making sure my wrist doesn’t twist or strain even for a second.
“Does it hurt too much?” he asks softly.
I don’t even get the chance to answer, because the moment his eyes land on the angry, red swelling, his entire expression hardens like stone.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you like that again,” he mutters, so low, so deadly, that I can’t tell if he’s promising it to himself or to me.
All I can do is pray he doesn’t notice how shaken I’m. Not just from the pain, but from the way my chest tightens under the weight of his gaze. He’s looking at me like I’m the most precious thing in his world, like the very idea of me being hurt is something he cannot bear.
A few minutes later, the doctor arrives and examines my wrist, carefully wrapping a bandage around it. He assures us it’s just a sprain, that nothing is broken, but it needs rest and zero movement.
Dev nods at the doctor, who then heads for the door and takes his leave.
When we’re alone again, Dev sinks onto the edge of the bed and takes my wrist in his hands, his fingers lingering over the bandage as his eyes carefully examine it. Even after hearing that there’s nothing to worry about, he still doesn’t look relaxed.
“I am fine.”
“I know,” he replies, his gaze refusing to meet mine.
“Dev…” I whisper, and his eyes snap to mine. In an instant, his hands cup my face.
“I am so sorry… truly sorry. It’s me… I brought this on you. That… Esha—”
I shake my head. “It’s not you.”
His gaze softens, then burns with a desire that sends a flutter through my chest. Slowly, he leans closer, his lipshovering just inches from mine, his warm breath caressing my skin. I don’t pull away. Instead, I close my eyes, my heart hammering… aching for his touch. Every fibre of me is on fire, the intoxicating anticipation of our first kiss erasing all sense of caution.
Just as I feel his lips are about to meet mine, they don’t.
Instead, his voice brushes against my mouth. “Do you want me? Do you want my touch? Are you agreeing to be mine?”
My eyes fly open, a jolt of clarity cutting through the haze of desire. I pull in a sharp breath and force myself to break the spell.
“I… I need to go to the couch,” I stammer, shaking my head as I try to push myself up.
His hands land gently on my thighs, stopping me. “You don’t have to go to the couch. I won’t do anything you’re not ready for or comfortable with. Trust me,” he whispers, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from my forehead.
I swallow hard, then nod slowly as he helps me lie down, carefully tucking the blanket around me and making sure my wrist rests securely on a soft cushion.
“Rest now. I’ll be right here,” he whispers.
He leans down and presses a tender kiss to my forehead. The warmth of his lips sends a shiver down my spine, goosebumps rising along my skin. Every nerve in me seems to awaken at the simple touch, yet I force myself to stay still.
God, how badly I want to tell him to lie down next to me, to let me curl into him and melt against his warmth.
But I don’t.
My pride and stubbornness clamp down hard, trapping both my words and my longing deep inside me.
Chapter 20
Dev
I grip the cold metal railing and stare into the dark night sky as the city lights blur beneath me. A grin tugs at my mouth as thoughts of my wife spill through me. The whole day, I didn’t leave her side. Not once. Not even when she tried to wave me off, muttering that she didn’t need me, that she could manage on her own, throwing me those irritated glances and totally ignoring the fact that she was affected by my closeness.
She can be stubborn like that. So damn proud even when she’s hurting. But I am just as stubborn. I stayed and continued tending to her wrist. I helped her eat, ignoring every half-hearted protest, and making it clear that her pain was mine to shoulder too, that I felt it with her. And that’s the damn truth. Every time I saw her wince, my chest burned.
And now, just like that, remembering the pain Meera suffered makes my fury toward Esha flare to life. I don’t feel even a shred of guilt for throwing her out of my house without letting her utter a single excuse. Not after what she did to Meera. If anything, she’s lucky I was too wrapped up in my wife to make her pay for it.
