Page 40 of Bad At Love
But she didn’t want to upset the dynamic between them right now by bringing up the future. Especially when she herself wasn’t strong enough to face it.
One knee on the bed, DP bent over until he filled her entire range of vision. His lips skated over her temple as he murmured, “You want help with anything? I wouldn’t be surprised if Mona starts banging on the door any minute now.”
She pushed her cheek into his palm and shook her head. “Thanks for the reminder but I’m good.”
A thoughtful expression on his face, he nodded.
As Chaaru watched him walk into the bathroom, it struck her that he hadn’t kissed her. Not in the cab, not last evening, and not this morning. And that felt like it was on purpose. As if he was keeping this purely sexual.
It would make things easier after this week. So why did it feel like she was being denied the most precious thing in the world?
And the worst question that wouldn’t leave her alone, now that she wasn’t engulfed in his arms—would it be this dreamy and magical when they returned to real life?
There was no doubt she wasn’t easy to live with—years of living by herself had made her rigid and set in her ways. Would DP want her mundane, grumpy, stingy everyday self as much as he wanted this wanton lover she was now?
16
DP felt like an anxious teenager getting ready for his first date as he showered and manscaped for the evening ahead.
The more-adventurous members of the group, including Kash and her nanny Diego—who wasn’t all bad when you got to know him—had gone scuba diving in the morning.
Spectacular coral reef colonies teeming with the most amazing marine life had been worth the expense. The cenotes they’d swam in—considered sacred by a rich, ancient culture, had left him feeling buoyant about the changes he was making in his own life.
Even underwater, thoughts of Chaaru had consumed him. How she’d looked at him that morning, her pretty lips wrapped against his cock, how she’d tasted on his tongue…reality beat out every fantasy. All the images, scents, and sounds forever imprinted into his very cells.
There was no way he could simply shove them into a lockbox when the week was over. He could see her in his enormous bed at his home, in his kitchen, which he’d remodeled with her in mind, how her laughter, her very presence would fill up the empty, quiet corners of his big, lonely house.
If only…
No, no ruining the present by dwelling on the future.
She was his for now and he would be grateful for that.
* * *
Soft music tuggedhim along to the small, private pool at the back of the resort with gauzy privacy screens guarding the space. Clearly, Mona and Dom had spared no expense. DP hoped the lovely couple had a memorable celebration, especially after a tumultuous couple of years.
Dusk was settling in, and the poolside was aglow with the soft, ethereal light from torches and lanterns around its perimeter. A gentle breeze stirred the liquid silver surface of the water, causing ripples to dance across in a hypnotic rhythm.
A soulful ghazal drifted through the air, weaving a tapestry of melodies that underpinned the ambience with a poetic slant. The mood was one of quiet reverence, of friends coming together to celebrate love under the enchanting canopy of the night. A contrast to the loud, animated dancing of last night, but just as fulfilling.
The other men, like him, wore jazzy Nehru jackets and silk vests. The women, however, were another matter. Bright tank tops, colorful sarongs, with loose, silky robes slipping over smooth shoulders, they looked like butterflies flitting from flower to flower.
On the other side of the pool sat several tables laden with kebab platters, an array of exotic fruits arranged in eye-catching displays, a variety of finger foods, and gleaming crystal bottles of liquor. Discreetly dispersed space heaters gave off bursts of warm air, saving the space from becoming chilly.
It took him a few minutes to spot Chaaru in the relative darkness. Hands raised above her, she was swaying her smoking-hot body in slow, tempting gyrations that made his blood thrum.
“Hey,” he said, reaching her.
The oily sheen to her face, dark circles under her eyes and the messy bun precariously dancing on top of her head made his heart stutter. Was she unwell?
Her broad smile, fanning out whisper-thin lines at the corner of her eyes, put paid to that worry. “Hey you.”
Wiry tendrils of gray at her temples stood out like majestic silver spires, contrasting against her brown skin. Behind thick glasses that he’d only seen her wear once in fifteen years, her brown eyes looked large and innocent. In contrast to all the small things that spoke to her…age, he realized slowly.
“Did I miss a change in the program?” He tugged the collar of his jacket. “I feel overdressed.”
Still smiling, she held up her hands, palms facing out. Rich, dark green swirls of elaborate mehndi danced on her palms, the pungent scent hitting him with a host of happy memories. “Everyone decided on a low-key evening.”
