There he goes again. I gasp breathlessly, “What if I break it?” I frown. “You know how clumsy and unpredictable I am.”
He chuckles, his hand caressing my cheek. “You can break it into a million pieces if you want, Aditi.” He pecks my forehead. “Just don’t give it back to me; it’s yours now.” I swear the world slows down when he looks at me like that. His gaze flickers to my lips, then back to my eyes. “You’re very distracting, Miss Malhotra.”
“I was just about to say the same about you,” I whisper, my heart thudding. I push him away, trying to catch my breath, giving my heart some time to calm down. “It’s late; we should go to the office now.” I get up from the bed.
He shuffles in the bed, getting up too. He walks towards me and stops just inches away, bending down. His lips find mine again, slower this time. Deeper.
And just when my brain forgets what day it is, he murmurs, “No office today.”
I blink up at him. “What?”
He nudges his nose against mine. “Just you and me.”
The air thickens with something tender. Something fragile.
“Are you sure?” I whisper.
“Positive.” He kisses my cheek. “I’m declaring a very important meeting day.”
“With whom?”
“You.”
He rolls to the side, propping his head up with one hand. His voice is gentler now. “How about you tell me about the fashion brand you want to build?”
I blink.
“What?”
He shrugs. “I want to hear. Everything. The name. The vibe. The inspiration. The chaos.”
“You want to hear?”
He looks at me like I just asked if the sky is blue. “Obviously. I always want to hear you.”
And then, he leans in again, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Even when you’re rambling about your romance novels.”
I gasp, pushing at his chest. “You were eavesdropping on my conversation with Bhabhi?!”
He laughs, not even pretending to be guilty. “I didn’t mean to, but… it doesn’t hurt knowing what makes your heart skip a beat. Gives me ideas.”
“You’re impossible,” I mutter.
He shrugs again. “I want to learn how to impress you.”
My heart clenches so hard it hurts. I reach for his hand, threading our fingers together.
“You don’t have to impress me, Abhimaan.”
His gaze softens.
“I already like you.”
“Doesn’t matter; you have a questionable choice. That doesn’t mean I have to forget that you are way out of my league,” he states as if he’s stating a fact.
“If you ever talk about yourself like that, I will break your nose,” I threaten, and he chuckles.
He shifts back into a mock-serious pose, clearing his throat. “Okay. Start talking. Brand strategy. Marketing. Vision board. Let’s go.”
