Page 27 of The Secret She Kept in Bollywood

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “One day you push me away—” she nuzzled her face into his palm, loving the rough abrasiveness of his skin, learning the length and breadth of his blunt-nailed fingers “—the next...you’re holding me through a panic attack and threatening my brothers to watch themselves around me or else.”

His brows pulled into a line. As if he was realizing only now how his actions could be perceived. “Kindness and decency don’t make me into a suitable romantic partner for you. I think that’s what Vikram was trying to tell you.”

“And yet, those are the qualities I rarely find in most of the men I know.” Releasing his palm, Anya rubbed her hands over her hips. She had to give them something else to do. “Also let’s not forget sex appeal,” she teased. “That really clinches the deal for me.”

His laughter thrummed through her spine, pooling low in her belly.

“I shouldn’t have distracted us from the topic of what we’ll tell Meera.”

“I won’t make you look weak to her just so we can get out of a sticky situation. You never needed rescuing, Angel. Not even the evening we met.”

“What did I need?”

“Someone to simply stand by your side. Someone to remind you that you’ll come out of that too.”

Anya wondered if he could hear the thud of her heart, if he could see in her face that she’d fallen in love with him at that moment. Just a little. “You want to tell her the truth then? That how we met was as strangers screwing against the wall?”

“Damn, you’re blunt when you’re angry.”

Anya shrugged, enjoying the dark strip of color at the crest of his cheekbones. The man’s face was full of rough planes, and broad strokes. As if the sculptor had stopped midway because he’d realized this face was better off raw and unfinished.

“I... I’m not ready to talk about my questionable decisions with my daughter. I might never be ready.”

Anya pouted. “Just so you know, I’m officially taking offense at being called a questionable decision. That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I will present you with a more appealing term then.”

“Simon, what if I were to make you a different kind of proposition? One that could both distract the media and also give us lots of mutual orgasms along the way?” She had no idea where her boldness was coming from. While she wasn’t desperate for just any man, she wanted to live. She wanted to have fun, she wanted more pleasure, she wanted to share more moonlight kisses with him.

God, she’d done enough hiding for one lifetime.

Interest gleamed in his eyes and she felt as if she was going to float away on a high. “You think you could handle a purely sexual relationship?”

“I’m thirteen years younger than you, old man. Our generation is all about the casual. And for the sake of the complete honesty that we’ve both always engaged in, I won’t know if I can handle it unless I try it, right?”

He let such a filthy curse fly that her battered confidence soared. A strange knowing fluttered through her heart, however much she tried to deal with rational facts. That their fates were tied together. And by more than Meera. There was a reason the universe had pushed her into Simon’s path. A reason Simon had wandered out into that corridor instead of ignoring her distress.

She just...had to have faith in it. And in herself.

“So...what’s your answer? Do we put on a fake relationship for show, or am I allowed to touch you for real?”

His mouth curved into a lazy smile that drew grooves around his mouth. “You’re quite bloodthirsty beneath all that fragile softness, aren’t you, Angel?”

Anya pouted. “I mean, I understand not accepting my ridiculous marriage proposal but if I’m forced to suffer through a bout of celibacy, especially when I’m the most horny I’ve ever been in my life, then yes, it’s going to make me feel better if I can punish you for it.”

He dipped his head, as if to hide his expression. “Why do I have the feeling even your punishments are going to be enjoyable?”

“I’d hate telling Meera any kind of lies, Simon.”

He clasped her cheek, his expression gentle and yet somehow consuming. “Then we’ll tell her the truth.”

“Which is?”

“That we like each other.” A glimmer of smile broke through and she felt drenched in its warmth. “But that neither of us is in a hurry. That we’re just simply exploring what might be. That should work until the shoot gets wrapped up.”

“Okay,” she said, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. “You think one of us will be ready to move on by then, don’t you?” Anya prompted, wanting to know the truth.

He shrugged.

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