Page 64 of The Unwanted Husband
The moment her fingers wrapped around his warm skin, she became acutely aware of everything. The steady thrum of his pulse beneath her thumb, the way his muscles tensed at her touch, how close he still was. She took in his scent that something distinctly him, processed the way his chest rose and fell with each careful breath even as he stood behind her.
“Don’t.” The word escaped before she could stop it, her voice barely a whisper.
She knew she should let him go. Knew the smart thing would be to create distance, to pretend this electricity crackling between them was just the charged air before a storm. But his skin was warm under her fingers, and when she slowly turned to look up, his dark eyes were fixated on her face with an intensity that made her stomach tumble.
“Isha,” he said, his voice rough, strained, but he made no move to pull away from her touch.
They stayed frozen like that, her fingers wrapped around his wrist, his pulse hammering against her thumb. The small boat rocked gently beneath them, and somewhere in the distance, she could hear the waves splash at a distance.
“I can’t let you fall asleep.” She released his wrist, but neither of them shifted position. “I needed to make sure you were being attentive.”
She noticed that he swallowed hard. “How do I make sureyouare staying awake?”
“I’m awake. Your magical coffee is working.” The caffeine was doing more than what it was supposed to. She wondered if the jitteriness she felt was from the coffee. “But I need another help from you.”
“Sure,” his voice was gravelly like he was struggling to speak.
“Can I get my nightly foot massage, please?” She struggled to form a full sentence, her voice coming out breathy and uneven. The simple request felt loaded with something else entirely new. With him so close she was getting antsy by the second, as if in anticipation of something unknown.
The silence stretched and the tension started to build between them. Finally, he cleared his throat and patted his thigh, gesturing to place her foot up.
“Thank you,” she smiled, lifting her foot to place it on his thigh. Part of her foot landed on his bare thigh and she felt a tremble pass through her.
He looked at her like he felt that shudder that passed through her. “What if you doze off?”
She smiled, easing the tension a bit. The last few nights she had fallen asleep as he massaged her feet, mid-sentence on a couple of occasions. “I’ll keep talking, I promise.”
“Do I pinch you if I see you falling asleep?” She didn’t mind the tease in his voice.
“Fine, get started.” She pushed on his thigh with her foot, playfully.
He kept his eyes locked with hers, as he gently pulled on her toes. It was her favorite part of her evening when he massaged her feet.
“I hear no talking,” he taunted, and the mischievous flicker in his eyes made her stomach clench. Her mouth went dry and the jitteriness from her high caffeine intake turned into something else entirely. Something that had nothing to do with coffee and everything to do with the way he was looking at her.
“I–I’m just…” her voice trailed off as she focused on her heavy breathing. His mere touch, combined with that very look, did something to her that she couldn’t name, couldn’t fight.
“Just…what?” His thumb traced a slow circle on her ankle, and she had to bite back a feral cry that threatened to escape her. The callused pad of his finger against her skin sent electricity shooting up her leg. All along, she was focused on avoiding an embarrassing situation because she had lost all control of her body.
She tried to form words, any words, but her brain seemed to be short-circuited. All she could focus on was the deliberate pressure of his hands, the way his eyes never left her face, watching every reaction like he was memorizing them.
Every time he dug his finger tips into her foot, there was something new brewing inside her. Gone was the exhaustion and the need to sleep, she wanted something else.
“Still nothing,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that low register that made her pulse spike. His hands moved higher,just to her calf, but the touch was maddeningly slow and purposeful.
“You’re—” she started, then sucked in a sharp breath when his fingers found a particularly sensitive spot.
“You’re killing me, Ashok.”
For Isha it was far beyond the simple foot massage he gave her every night. The air between them crackled with tension so thick she could barely breathe through it. Every nerve ending in her body seemed to be firing all at once, and when he leaned slightly closer, she caught his intoxicating scent again.
“What?” The wicked gleam in his eyes and the way his hands continued their torturous path along her leg and down to her feet, blinding her with the intense sensation. She was wet and soaked and to her utter shock a climb was approaching.
She wanted to ask him to stop before she let out a cry of pleasure but she could not. It was chaos in every sense and she knew she could not fight it anymore. She bit her lip hard but a soft cry escaped her when an intense peak barreled through her. She panted and gasped for air as he continued to touch and caress her foot and she threw her head back taking in the waves of pleasure that hit her until she lost the ability to think coherently.
“Tell me to stop,” he said quietly, but his hands didn’t pause in their movement. It was a challenge.
She opened her mouth, knowing she should say exactly that, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she found herself leaning back against the cushions, her eyes fluttering closed as his touch sent waves of heat through her entire body.
