Page 93 of Cross the Line
The party is taking place in the backyard, meaning I could sneak into the house unseen. My stomach sinks a little when I step into the small room off the kitchen and realize Willow isn’t here yet. She responded to my text with a kissy-face emoji, but now that I think about it, it wasn’t exactly a resoundingyes, I’ll meet you.
Well, shit. Maybe I blew it. I should have gotten confirmation. I could text her again or maybe even call or—
The door, which I left ajar, suddenly swings open, nearly smacking me in the nose.
‘Oh, shit!’ Willow gasps. She shuffles into the room under the weight of her embroidered chaniya choli, bumping the door shut with her hip. ‘Are you okay? Did I hurt you?’
I’m more surprised by the curse leaving Willow’s pretty little mouth than I am by nearly getting taken out by the door. ‘I’m fine,’ I tell her, still blinking away my shock.
And once I do . . . Fucking hell, she’s a vision in soft pink and gold. Willow decked out in clothes from my culture absolutely does it for me. It’s the second time today the sight of her has almost knocked me on my ass. The first was at the pithi ceremony, when she wore that marigold-yellow outfit and truly embodied the warmest ray of light. It’s proof of how well she fits into my life, how easily she adapts to and appreciates this part of my world. All of it fits her beautifully, and I don’t just mean the clothes.
‘Okay, good,’ she exhales before giggling. ‘I’m so happy to see you, but I can’t stay for long.’
Her cheeks are flushed, and she’s holding her hands out in front of her awkwardly. Her positioning draws my attention to the swirls of intricate mehndi designs twisting all the way up to her elbows. From the look of things, she’s been having a great time with my family.
‘I promise, no one will notice,’ I tell her. ‘Things are about to get rowdy out there.’
She blinks a few times, the glitter on her eyelids catching the light. ‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously.’ I lean against the washing machine and smirk. ‘Pretty soon they’re gonna be telling Alisha all about how to perform her wifely duties.’
Willow stops blinking and gapes at me. ‘You don’t mean . . .’
‘Oh, I absolutely do mean. Did you see anyone carrying around an eggplant out there?’
She balks.
‘I’ll take that as a yes.’
‘I thought they were talking about cooking,’ she says weakly. ‘I really should learn Gujarati. No wonder they were all cackling. Curry isn’t that funny.’
I bite back a laugh at her wide-eyed innocence, curling my hands around her waist and pulling her to me. ‘Don’t worry,’ I reassure. ‘I’ll teach you one day. And I’ll help you practise for your future wifely duties.’
She comes to me willingly, though she doesn’t dare touch me in return. ‘Oh yeah? When should we start on these future wife lessons?’
‘No time like the present.’
Willow squeals when I lift her off her feet and turn to place her on top of the washing machine. ‘Dev,’ she warns, hands lifted between us. ‘My mehndi is still drying.’
I bend, finding her ankles and the hem of her long skirt. ‘Guess that means all you can do is sit there and look pretty while I wreck you.’
‘Dev!’
I watch her through my lashes and lift the fabric to her shins without shame. ‘Can I?’
‘We shouldn’t,’ she whispers, but her knees fall open.
‘We shouldn’t,’ I agree as I slowly push her skirt to her thighs. ‘But I want to. Do you?’
A tense beat passes as she observes my every move closely. Then she nods.
‘I need to hear you say it, Willow.’
‘Yes,’ she exhales, slipping forward to the edge of the machine, skirt rising with the motion. ‘Yes, I want to.’
‘That’s my girl. Now spread your legs for me, baby.’
She does as she’s told, and I slip my hands up to her hips and curl my fingers around the edge of her cotton panties. I want nothing more than to worship her pussy, to taste her like I’ve been dreaming of.
