His eyes flashed with something fierce and possessive. "Again."
"I love you," she gasped as his fingers worked her higher. "I love you, I love you—"
She came apart with his name on her lips, watching herself fall apart in the mirror, seeing the satisfaction in his eyes as he made her unravel.
Before she could catch her breath, he was lifting her, carrying her into the shower. He turned on the water—hot, steaming—and pushed her against the tiled wall.
"My turn," he growled, freeing himself from his pants. "My turn to show you what you mean to me."
He entered her in one hard thrust, swallowing her cry with a bruising kiss. The water cascaded over them as he moved, each thrust harder than the last, claiming her in the most primal way possible.
"You're mine," he said between thrusts. "Mine. Not a treaty. Not a bargaining chip. Mine."
"Prove it," she gasped, meeting him thrust for thrust, nails raking down his back. "Stop just saying it and prove it."
Something in him snapped. He pulled out, turning her to face the wall, and entered her from behind. His hand found her hair again, tilting her head back as he drove into her with punishing force.
"Is this proof enough?" His voice was ragged. "The way I can't stay away from you? The way I think about you constantly? The way the thought of losing you terrifies me?"
"Yes," she sobbed, overwhelmed by sensation and emotion. "Yes!"
"Say my name," he demanded. "Say it while I'm inside you. Say it so I know you know who you belong to."
"Sidharth!" His name was a prayer and a curse, torn from her throat as another orgasm built. "Sidharth, please—"
"I've got you," he said, his hand snaking around to find her clit. "Come for me, Advika. Come for me and know you're mine."
She shattered, her inner walls clenching around him as pleasure tore through her. He followed with a groan, her name on his lips as he emptied himself inside her.
They stayed like that, breathing hard, the water sluicing over them, for a long moment. Then he gently turned her around, pulling her into his arms.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his lips against her wet hair. "For not defending you. For making excuses for Nisha. For making you feel like you don't matter."
The apology was unexpected, and it made her throat tight.
"She had no right to say that about your mother," he continued. "No right at all. And I should have said that immediately instead of being angry at you."
Advika pulled back to look at him. His amber eyes were softer than she'd ever seen them, vulnerable in a way that made her chest ache.
"Nobody has the right," she said quietly. "Nobody."
"I know." He cupped her face, thumbs brushing away the water—or maybe tears, she couldn't tell. "I'll talk to her. Make it clear that it crosses a line."
"Will it help?"
"I don't know." His honesty was painful. "But I'll try. For you."
They stood under the water for a while longer, just holding each other. Then he turned off the shower and wrapped her in a towel, drying her off with gentle hands.
They ended up in bed, still damp, skin pressed against skin. He made love to her again—slower this time, tender, with words whispered against her skin that sounded almost like confessions.
Afterward, he didn't leave. He pulled her into his arms, her head on his chest, his hand stroking her hair.
"You said you love me," he murmured into the darkness.
"I know."
"I'm not good at this," he continued. "At feelings. At being open. At trusting."
