Page 172 of Lawfully Yours
Kushal slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and steered them out of the parking lot. For a few minutes, it was silent, before his left hand shifted from the wheel, unhurried, and his palm landed on her bare thigh.
Arundhati’s head whipped to the side, but his gaze never left the road. He drove like nothing had changed, like it wasn’t a sinfully intimate gesture. His fingers stroked her slowly, possessively, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Her lips parted as she realised Kushal had never done this even during their early days of marriage. Back then, he’d been careful, restrained even in his affection. But this? This was bold.
“I thought,” she managed to speak, “we were going in order… date, proposal, kiss… and then—”
“Touching,” he cut in, his palm flexing against her thigh, “is allowed in every step of that order.”
The way he said it left no space for debate. And God, she wanted it too.
The rest of the drive passed in blistering silence. His hand never left her. Sometimes he simply held her knee, other times his fingers kneaded it with sinful pressure. Every now and then, he skimmed upward, teasing the edge of the slit in her dress, making her gasp as the fabric pulled higher, baring more of her thigh.
She didn’t sit still either. Her fingers brushed over his wrist, grazing the cold steel of his Rolex, before sliding along the firm muscle of his forearm. She rubbed lightly, back and forth, like she needed the reassurance of his solid presence too, especially of this fire sparking between them.
Every touch was a promise. Every caress was a dare.
Both of them knew this dinner date was on thin ice. Because if they kept touching like this, teasing like this, one of them was going to snap before they even made it to the restaurant.
And the way his thumb traced slow circles into the soft dip of her thigh… she was beginning to pray it would be him.
By the time the valet opened her door, Arundhati wasn’t sure how her legs even carried her out of the car. The imprint of his fingers still burned on her thigh. Her pulse was still unsteady, and her lipstick was almost bitten off from trying not to moan at every squeeze of his palm on the ride over.
Kushal stepped out on his side, handed the keys to the valet, and came around. He looked too calm. His charcoal suit pristine, his hair perfectly set, like he hadn’t just spent the last half hour torturing her skin with his touch.
He had brought her to another one of her favourite restaurants. This one was the romantic kind, and she hadn’t expected any less from her husband in making tonight special. As he reached her side, she slipped her hand through the crook of his strong arm, clinging to him possessively before walking inside the restaurant, which glowed with amber light and hushed music. The hostess led them to a secluded table tucked against a wall, a place meant for privacy.
He pulled her chair out, gentleman as always. But when she sat, his hand brushed, and almost lingered on her bare back for just a second longer than necessary. Her skin erupted in goosebumps again. That deliberate pause and that fleeting stroke of his fingers didn’t go unnoticed by her.
They settled in, the hum of soft jazz filling the warm-lit restaurant. Her favourite vintage red wine arrived. She arched a brow, glancing at him as the waiter poured. Of course, he remembered. He always remembered.
They raised their glasses. “So,” she teased softly, “what are we toasting to?”
Kushal’s gaze locked on hers. “To second chances,” he said, clinking his glass with hers. But then his mouth curved into that wicked smirk that always undid her. “And to making sure this second chance is the hottest, most unforgettable one anyone has ever had in love, in every possible way.”
Her lips parted faintly.
“In every possible way?” she repeated. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He raised his glass, swirling the wine lazily before bringing it to his lips. His eyes never left hers.
“It means every inch of you, you tried to deny me so far, I’ll claim. Again and again. Until you don’t remember what it was like to breathe without me inside your skin.”
The wine glass trembled in her hand. Her heart raced so hard it hurt; her body betrayed her with that restless heat only he could ignite. Damn him. He always knew how to lace his words into seduction.
Kushal tilted his head, arrogance gleaming in his eyes as he downed a sip of his wine.
“You were so certain it would be me breaking the order first. But looking at your state now, I guess we both know it’s not me.”
He was right. Her very expression, the way her lips parted, the way her thighs shifted under the table, already screamed she was seconds away from breaking.
And if he wasn’t going to cross that line tonight… she realised she just might.
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After their light dinner, the evening should have ended. But neither of them wanted it to. When the soft strains of music floated across the room, the couple inevitably found themselves drawn to the dance floor.
Kushal’s hands slid around her waist, pulling her flush into him, possessively, while her arms looped easily around his neck. Her fingers brushed the hair at his nape as they swayed in rhythm, their gazes locked, speaking a hundred words they wanted the other to hear without voicing them out loud.
