Page 47 of Right Where I Belong
“I have to think sensibly.”
He chuckled. “I think all sensibility flew out of the window the first time we kissed.”
She sighed. “I’ve never done relationships ever before this. With Ajay, my late husband, we weren’t in a relationship when we got married. His mother had arranged it. So, you… this… us, is new for me. And like I keep saying, I have responsibilities that I cannot shake. So, please let’s get into this knowing we’ll walk away at the end of five weeks.”
“What if I make it hard for you to walk away?” he challenged.
She blinked, thrown off-balance. She hadn’t expected him to want more than this from her. Before she could retort, he cupped her cheeks, and his mouth met hers in the lightest of kisses. He kissed her gently, softly, tentatively. A shudder ran through her. Something clicked inside her heart, as if she’d found the one piece that had been missing for so long. His lips left hers, but before he could move away, she pressed her mouth to his. Her fingers curled into his shirt, her lips parted, and the second she let him in, everything shifted.
His control snapped. The kiss deepened, turning hungry and wild, exactly as she wanted. Every single doubt she’d harbored melted away. Her hands slid into his hair, angling his head, and she devoured his mouth like she needed it to breathe. He yanked her closer, lifting her off the sofa and into his arms. She sat astride him, her arms wrapping tightly around him. Tongues tangled, breaths mingled, and the air between them turned thick with heat and want. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a claim.
Her hands tangled with the buttons on his shirt, fumbling in her urgency, twisting and tugging until the fabric parted and fell away. His chest was bared to her—hard, sculpted, every inch of him carved like temptation itself.
She paused, drinking him in. She hadn’t taken the time to explore him that night. Now she could. Now there was nothing stopping her. This man was all hers for the next few weeks. Running her palms across his torso, she traced the ridges of his abs, her fingers skating down his taut skin. Then, unable to resist, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his throat, tasting the salt of his skin as she licked and kissed her way down his body.
His breath hitched. His muscles tensed under her touch.
“Fuck…” he cursed.
That rough and ragged sound made something primal coil inside her. Hers. He was hers, and she was undoing him. And God, that knowledge thrilled her. She, who’d been so careful,so guarded, was now the one in control. Touching, tasting, teasing, watching him come apart under her hands and mouth. His fingers were fisted at his sides, his head thrown back in surrender.
His brown eyes opened. Speckled with gold and swirling with heat, he stared at her before he pulled her mouth back to his. She moved impossibly closer. Her core met his hardness, and an ache began there. She undulated on top of him, her body moving, seeking the friction from his while their mouths fused again and again.
It wasn’t enough; she needed more. So much more. She shifted to pull off her top, when he held her hand, stopping her.
“You said slow, beautiful,” he said, voice raspy.
“Fuck slow!”
His jaw clenched, and for a beat, war raged in his eyes. Then his grip tightened just a little. “I want you too. But let’s do this the old-fashioned way. Let’s get to know each other a bit. Let’s date and flirt. I want to do this right with you.”
She stared at him, stunned. No man had ever made her feel like this—so wanted, so alive, so completely unraveled. And yet, here he was, pulling back when she was the one ready to dive in. That made her want him even more. She planted a final kiss on his lips and shifted to sit next to him. God, she had completely lost control. She was the one who’d wanted things to go slow, and yet she hadn’t wanted to stop. Even now, her heart raced.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You’re not the only one who’s shaken, beautiful. You’ve got me all messed up too.”
She gave him a wide smile.
“Come on. Let’s watch something,” he suggested. “Your choice. I promise not to judge… unless it’s a bad rom-com.”
“Hey, I happen to like rom-coms.”
He made a face. Laughing, she picked up the remote and scrolled through the options. “How about a thriller? A slow-burn mystery with a romantic subplot? Will that do?”
He chuckled. “That sounds good.”
As she played the movie, she asked, “Are you hungry?”
“Starving!”
She padded to the kitchen, plated the lasagna she’d made earlier, and poured two glasses of wine, and then set the tray on the table before them.
“This smells amazing.” Taking a bite, he said, “And tastes even better.”
They ate and watched the film in companionable silence. Occasionally, their eyes met during an intense scene or a funny line, and each time, it brought forth a shared smile that tugged deeper into her chest. She’d missed this for so long. The quiet closeness. The companionship. The feel of a man beside her, sharing food, laughter, and silence. In that moment, she had to accept that walking away from Aditya was going to be too damn hard.
15
Aditya leaned back against the seat of his Mercedes, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest as he waited outside Sabrina’s apartment. His driver sat silently up front, the engine idling. A faint smile curved Aditya’s mouth.
