“Relax,” he said. “If I wanted to punish you, Mishti, you would not be standing this far away from our bed.”
“And what ifIdon’t want to be punished?” she challenged quietly.
His gaze dropped again, tracing the line of her throat, the gentle rise and fall of her chest.
“Then don’t tempt me,” he said.
His hand came up to her face, his thumb brushing just beneath her lower lip, not crossing the line yet.
Her lashes fluttered.
“This doesn’t mean I forgive the lie,” he added. “It means I am choosingyouover my anger, over every other thing or feeling in this world. You mean to me that much.”
She leaned into his touch instinctively.
“I will never hide something like this from you again,” she promised.
His thumb stilled as his eyes lifted to hers.
“I know,” he said.
He bent then, capturing her mouth in a slow kiss.
She responded instantly, her hands sliding up his chest, fingers curling at his shoulders as she rose onto her toes. He deepened the kiss slightly, just enough to make her breath hitch,just enough to make her feel how badly he was holding himself back, before pulling away.
Their foreheads touched, breaths mingled.
“Go change,” he murmured against her skin.
Her lips parted in protest. “Karan—”
“You have a call with your team back in London in an hour,” he reminded.
Her cheeks flushed. She had almost forgotten this, and it was important. Nodding in understanding, she stepped back slowly, her gaze never leaving his, before turning toward the bathroom.
***************
Later at night
The house had settled into its late-night stillness. The lights in Wadhwa Mansion were dimmed, and the corridors were quiet.
Karan was in his bedroom, sitting on the single-seater sofa, with his laptop balanced on his lap. He had been staring at the screen for several minutes now, working, when the bathroom door opened softly.
He looked up and suddenly forgot the rest of the world as Mishti stepped out slowly, wearing one of his shirts again. This time, a black one. It was too long for her; the hem brushed her mid-thigh, the collar slipping slightly off one shoulder. Her hair was damp, freshly washed, tossed casually to one side. There was no makeup, no jewellery except her Mangalsutra. And she looked devastating.
Karan’s breath caught before he could stop it.
She did not look at him immediately. Instead, she walked to the dresser ottoman, sat down unhurriedly, and picked up the bottle of lotion. She poured some into her palm and began applying it to her legs, slow and unselfconscious. Her fingers glided over her skin as if she were alone in the room.
Karan closed his laptop without realising it.
His dark gaze stayed on her, intently following every movement. The curve of her calf. The way the fabric of his shirt rode up slightly as she shifted. The faint smile that touched her lips when she finally glanced in his direction and caught him watching.
Their eyes held.
The heat between them was too thick. Yet, Karan did not say a word.
Neither did she.
