He stared. If he spoke, would she disappear? Was it a mirage? Did he have heat stroke?
Mirage Vedika came forward, climbing the few steps that led to his tent and stopping before him. Then she caught his grimy, dirty hand and brought it to her face. “It’s me,” she said simply.
His fingers trembled beneath hers, the soft, curve of her cheek fitting perfectly beneath his callused palm.
“I’m here,” she whispered, reaching up on tiptoe to wipe the tear that escaped him, trailing down his face, a dusty trail of pain and devastation.
A shudder ran through his body as the dam he’d built, brick by careful brick, around his emotions broke. His big body bowedaround hers as he buried his face in the side of her neck, bringing her close, holding her to him, his arms vising around her.
Vedika burrowed into him, her own body shaking with the force of her sobs. “I’m here,” she kept repeating.
She was here. She was really here.
His mouth found hers, a desperate seeking, a reaffirmation that for once life was aligning the way he’d dreamed of. Her lips parted beneath his, welcoming him, her body arching towards him.
A desperate groan escaped him as he stumbled backwards through the tent flap, pulling her along. They fell into the bed, rolling, gasping, hands feverishly moving over each other, a frantic reaffirmation of their feelings, too big, too overwhelming to voice.
They pulled, yanked, dragged clothes off each other until skin finally met blessed skin. She mewled as he pulled away from her long enough to sheathe himself before returning to kiss the protest away.
When he finally slid into her, he felt every last jagged piece of himself slide into place. He was home. They moved together, their foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling, gaze caught in each other’s, an endless, timeless moment that shattered into a pleasure so intense Daksh thought he’d never recover from it.
He shook in her embrace, her hands moving over his back in soothing circles as he fought to put himself back together, his legendary control shot to bits. When he could finally breathe without feeling like he was going to fly apart, he looked at her.
“Hi,” she said, smiling shyly.
“Hi,” he grinned, a shaky quirk of his lips.
He was about to say more when her stomach growled. His eyebrows lifted. “This is starting to become a pattern.”
Vedika laughed, a bright peal of sound that brought sunshine to his dark, gloomy heart.
Daksh’s smile softened. “What can I order for you?”
She stroked his jaw, her fingers cradling it, cradling him, like he was precious. “Do you think they’d have lobster?”
Damn this woman. She destroyed him, shattered him, and then built him up in the most exquisite way possible.
“Sweetheart, if they don’t, I’ll set up the fucking traps myself.” Reluctantly, he rolled away from her and called for the butler assigned to his tent, placing their food order after checking with Vedika on what would suit her stomach.
They wandered into the bathroom to clean up but ended up doing filthy, torturous things to each other, and running out of hot water before they could claim to be clean.
It was only as they sat on the deck attached to the tent, their meal spread out between them, the sun setting over the Maasai Mara, that he asked her the question burning a hole through his gut, “What now?”
Vedika beckoned him over. “Come here?”
He shuffled closer, obediently, allowing her to position herself against him. She held her phone up and took a quick selfie of the two of them. Before he could react, she’d posted it to her social media with a simple red heart beneath it. As he watched, her fingers flew over the phone and she sent the picture toher family group chat. It exploded with messages, all of them congratulatory and positive.
A knot of emotion clogged his throat as he watched the lines of text welcoming him to their family. A family, he thought, that actually seemed to want him, one he could belong to.
Aakash’s message pinged through catching his eye.Does this mean he’ll do the photoshoot?
Daksh laughed, blinking back tears. “You know, I could have taken a better picture than the one you just clicked,” he teased.
“Shut up,” Vedika giggled before sobering, “Is there anyone left to tell about us?” Vedika asked, her fingers still poised over her phone. “Anyone else we need to go ‘official’ with?”
He shook his head, still unable to string words together.
“Because I choose you, Daksh Mathur. You are mine. My forever, my one love, my fucking lobster.”
