I was sitting on my bed, staring at the plain white wall, trying to make sense of the life I had landed in. Twenty-four, freshly graduated, and now… married. Arranged marriage. Not that it mattered to him.
I don't want you. I love someone else. The memory of his words the very first day was still sharp in my mind, like a cut that wouldn't heal.
And then the door creaked.
Aditya stepped in, swaying slightly, the faint scent of whiskey trailing behind him. His dark eyes found mine immediately, sharp and unreadable. My chest tightened, breath catching.
"Aditya… are you drunk?" I asked cautiously, voice trembling.
He didn't answer. He just stared, lips slightly parted, that magnetic energy radiating off him like a storm ready to crash. My mind screamed at me to move, to put space between us, but my body refused to listen.
Then he started moving toward me—slow, deliberate, inch by inch. My pulse surged. I instinctively took a step back.
"Aditya… this is my room," I whispered, trying to sound firm. "You can't—"
He didn't stop. Another step. My knees weakened. My back hit the wall behind the bed. My chest heaved. He doesn't want me. He will never want me. And yet…
His arms lifted, resting on either side of me, pinning me gently but firmly. The heat radiating from him made it impossible to think clearly. My breath hitched.
"Aditya…" I whispered, hands trembling, trying to push him away. His hand slid down to my waist, pulling me subtly closer, and I froze. My body leaned forward despite my resistance.
"Why are you even resisting?" he murmured, husky, intoxicated. "Don't you want this ?"
A shiver ran down my spine as his lips brushed my earlobe, soft, teasing, leaving warmth that set my pulse racing. My fingers pressed against his chest, trying to create distance, but he leaned closer, lips trailing down my neck—just above my skin, teasing, careful, not fully kissing.
My body trembled. My mind screamed he doesn't want me, yet every instinct told me to lean in.
I whispered again, desperate, stop… but my body refused to listen.
His grin deepened. "Don't you want me to be close to you?" he murmured, low, intoxicating. "To hold you like this?"
His grip on my waist tightened, erasing the already nonexistent gap. My breath hitched. Every inch of me burned—chest to chest, his hands possessive.
He bent closer, lips brushing the side of my neck. "I want to… kiss you," he whispered.
Before I could respond, his lips pressed softly against my neck. Warm. Firm. Irresistible. My hands fluttered weakly against his chest, but he didn't let go.
Then he kissed a little deeper, leaving a mark, and his fingers traced it lightly. My breath caught. My pulse raced uncontrollably.
"There," he murmured, his husky voice vibrating against my ear. "So you'll remember… like this."
My chest heaved, body trembling from the heat, nerves alive. I tried to step back, but his hold on my waist pulled me closer again.
"Why… why are you so impossible?" he whispered, lips brushing my hair. "Every step I take… you lean toward me anyway."
Suddenly, his phone rang, shrill and insistent.
I expected him to pull back, to break the tension—but he didn't. Not even a blink. His dark eyes stayed locked on mine, lips hovering inches from mine, fingers pressing lightly on my waist. He ignored the phone completely, leaning closer, until I could feel the warmth of his breath on my lips.
My heartbeat thundered. My body shivered uncontrollably. My hands pressed weakly against his chest, trying to push away, trying to breathe, trying to survive. But every inch of me burned with longing.
He tilted his head slightly, lips just above mine, voice husky and low: "Do you want me… or not?"
I opened my mouth to answer, to protest—but the words caught in my throat. My body leaned toward him, betraying my mind completely.
And then, the phone kept ringing, slicing through the tension like a knife, the only thing standing between us and something I didn't know I wanted yet.
I froze, chest heaving, body trembling, every nerve alive. His gaze held mine, intense, dark, and unreadable, as if daring me to move closer despite everything.
The phone kept ringing somewhere in the room, but Aditya didn't move. He just stood there, chest barely an inch from mine, fingers still resting possessively on my waist. I could feel the warmth radiating from him, the faint scent of alcohol clinging to his skin, intoxicating and maddening all at once.
"Do you always ignore your phone when it rings?" I asked, voice shaky, trying to regain some control.
He didn't answer. His dark eyes bored into mine, and for a moment, I felt like I was suspended in time—trapped, captivated, helpless.
"You know," he murmured, voice low and husky, "you're ridiculously tempting when you try to act so… controlled."
I swallowed hard, trying to shove away the fluttering heat in my chest. My hands pressed weakly against his chest, but he didn't budge. Instead, he leaned just slightly closer, and I could feel every heartbeat echoing between us.
"I… I can't…" I whispered, breath catching. My body refused to listen to my brain. Every nerve was alive, every inch of me aching for something I wasn't sure I should want.
He smiled—slow, knowing, dangerous. "You can," he said, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "You just… don't want to admit it."
My pulse surged. He leaned closer, lips grazing my earlobe, warm and teasing. My knees weakened. I pressed my hands harder against his chest, trying to reclaim control, trying to tell myself I am married and this is normal. But he don't love me.
My chest heaved. My body betrayed me completely. My hands trembled, brushing against his shirt, feeling the firm warmth of him. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on anything but him. But it was hopeless.
He suddenly pressed a little closer, tilting his head, and whispered, "Do you even realize how much I want you right now?"
The words hit me like fire. My breath caught. My body arched slightly toward him despite my desperate mental protests. My hands pressed against him weakly, as if holding on to some thread of resistance.
And then, before I could think, his lips brushed my neck—lightly at first, teasing, then firmer, leaving a mark. My knees went weak, pulse racing, shivers running down my spine.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" he murmured huskily, fingers tracing the mark he left. "To feel this… from me."
I tried to step back, tried to push him away, tried to fight the heat pooling inside me—but his hold was firm, possessive, erasing any space between us. My body trembled, every nerve screaming, every thought shattered.
He bent closer, lips hovering near mine. "Do you want me… or not?" he whispered.
My chest heaved. My throat was dry. I opened my mouth to protest, but the words caught in my throat. My body leaned forward, instinctively, betraying my mind.
A soft laugh escaped him, low and dangerous. "There it is," he murmured, brushing his lips lightly against mine—so close I could feel the heat of his breath, teasing, daring.
I gasped, pressing my hands weakly against his chest, trying to regain composure. My mind screamed, he doesn't want you… he never will… Yet my body burned with the undeniable pull toward him.
He pressed a little closer, chest brushing mine, hand on my waist holding me firmly. "Stop resisting," he murmured, voice husky, intoxicating. "You can't hide how much you want this."
And then—just as my thoughts spiraled, just as the tension became unbearable—there was a pause. A sound outside the room. Something distant, indistinct. He froze for a fraction of a second, eyes dark and unreadable, before leaning back slightly but not letting go, not breaking the charged space between us.
My heart pounded. My breath came in short, uneven gasps. Every nerve was alive. I wanted to retreat, to run, to push him away—but I couldn't. Every inch of me was tethered to him.
He tilted his head, grin slow and teasing. "You're mine," he whispered, almost like a promise, almost like a warning. "Even if you don't realize it yet."
And then he leaned just slightly closer again, lips dangerously near mine, fingers tightening on my waist…and...