by Nalini Singh
“I’ve been dreaming about seeing these breasts again,” he said against her skin as he tugged one strap of the sundress over her shoulder.
Her breast popped out, her nipple the picture of enthusiasm.
Raj closed his hand over it, squeezed. When she moaned, he smiled—and oh, that slow, sexy smile was even more glorious than she’d imagined and it scrambled her brain until she forgot to be embarrassed or shy as he tugged off the other strap, then pulled both down her arms, leaving her dress crumpled at her waist.
“I always seem to end up like this around you,” she whispered against his throat.
Raj pushed up off his hands with the ease of a man in peak physical condition. “I’m not complaining,” he rumbled, his eyes taking in the sight of her laid out like an invitation. “You’re fucking beautiful.”
The rough-edged comment hit her hard, made her boneless.
When he came back down on her and dropped his mouth to first one breast then the other, she gripped his hair and held on for the ride. Her hips jerked up convulsively against him, but he didn’t seem to mind, sliding one arm behind her back and arching her even further for his wet, suckling kisses.
Her breasts would be red tomorrow from the scrapes of his teeth and the roughness of his stubble and she just wanted more. Wrapping one leg around his back, she luxuriated in the feel of his muscles moving underneath, fluid and controlled at the same time.
“Raj,” she whispered when the sensations became too intense, a strange emptiness at her core. “I need you.”
His mouth was on her own before the sentence ended, his arms wrapping tight around her and flipping them over so that she lay on top of him, her breasts flat against his chest, her dress in danger of totally falling off, his erection a rigid brand against her. Without warning, like a switch being flicked that made her feel buried under a flood of sensation, it was all too much for her starved body and she ducked her head against his neck.
Breath ragged, he stroked her back.
After all they’d done together, it was the kiss he pressed to her temple that made her eyes sting, it was so violently tender. “Sorry,” she whispered.
“Why?” Another slow stroke of her back. “Anticipation just makes things better.”
His chest vibrated against her as he spoke, and she shivered. Rising up to look down at him, she said, “I thought I was ready.” Frustrated and aroused and needy. But it looked like after twenty-eight years of virginity, she needed to ease into the erotic rawness of what happened when the two of them came together.
With him, she had no walls, no barriers.
Just nakedness far beyond the skin. And it terrified her.
“I’m yours whenever you’re ready,” Raj said, and the words crashed over her like the waves below, powerful and turbulent.
20
The Construction Workers’ Book Club
Raj ended up having to work the majority of the next few days, along with a couple of his guys who wanted the extra pay. That night on the cliffs with Nayna, especially the way she’d lain snuggled up against him for over an hour after they called things to a halt, it was the best Christmas gift he could’ve imagined.
He could’ve pushed her in the nights that followed, but he’d fought his aggressive instincts and given her the room she needed. She’d come close to panic with him on the cliffs, and he didn’t think it had been about sex. It was all happening too fast for her, the nameless thing that burned between them a hurricane.
“Hey, Raj!” one of his men called out. “Gazza says those are lady scratches on your back. He right?”
Raj hadn’t realized Nayna had scratched him. Grinning, he said, “No comment and keep your fucking eyes to yourself.” A construction site wasn’t exactly time for gentle language.
“Hey, Gazza, I think the boss has a girl.”
“And you’re a bunch of gossips!” Raj yelled back. “I’m paying you to hammer, not chat.”
“Hammer! Is that what they call a Freudian slip?” That was from Gazza—currently in the midst of an English literature degree for “reasons.” What reasons, he’d never verbalized.
“Gaz!” Raj yelled up. “You ever read Pride and Prejudice?”
“Yeah, for class.” The other man continued to frame an upstairs window. “That Mr. Darcy is a wanker like the entire first half—if I was that much of a wanker, I’d never get laid.”
Nodding because someone finally agreed with him, Raj whacked in another timber before saying, “And what the fuck about Wickham?”
“Dude’s a fucking fuckwit” was the concise response.
Tino, who’d started this all off, said, “You two in a book club or something?”
“A club to get girls, dickhead,” Gazza responded. “Girls like guys who read.”
“Yeah, says who?” Tino demanded.
“Look up ‘hot guys reading’ online.”
When Tino did and went, “Shiiiiiit, why didn’t you fuckers tell me this years ago!” Raj went over to take a look.
And saw countless images of men reading in public. Pictures taken by women. Who had then commented with heart emojis and words like swoon and “my panties just disappeared.”
Hmm.
That night he sent Nayna a shirtless image—of him sprawled in his bed, reading about that wanker, Mr. Darcy. He’d stolen the print book off his sister’s bookshelf for this purpose. It was worth all the work it took to get that shot when Nayna replied with: I’m dead now, Sen. I hope you’re happy.
Yes, Raj was very happy. Panic or not, she was still talking to him, still reacting to him. The door wasn’t quite shut. His butterfly hadn’t flown out of his sight.
* * *
Raj finally admitted defeat on the morning of New Year’s Eve. He’d tried everything possible, but his parents would not budge on the “casual” get-together with the Sharmas. “Shilpa and Gaurav will make such nice in-laws,” he heard his mother, Sangeeta, say to his father—the two were on the lawn, not far from Raj’s flat at the back of the property.
His sister, who was hanging out with him, raised an eyebrow, then began to sing “Here comes the bride” under her breath.
“Quiet, Monkey.” He pointed a finger at her.
Unrepentant, she stuck out her tongue. “So, are you going to marry her?”
“That’s between me and Nayna.” And it was a dream so important that he couldn’t share it with anyone until it was real, until she agreed to be his.
“Ugh. Spoilsport.” Aditi slumped back on the sofa, her mass of curly hair a halo around her head. She was as tiny as he was big, her face triangular where his was all square lines. And her brain worked completely differently too.
“You still kicking the asses of the boys in your physics class?”
“It’s my solemn duty.” Still slumped like a jellyfish, she scowled. “God, the mansplaining I got when I started this year. Just because I’m short and female.” She sat up. “I hope you never mansplain to a woman.”
Raj threw up his hands. “I’ve been schooled by you since you were four, what do you think?”
Bouncing up, she came over to hug him from behind where he sat at his drafting desk, working out a building problem. “I love you, bhaiya.” She smacked a kiss on his cheek. “I’m gonna quiz this Nayna chick. She better be good enough for you.”
His admonitions to her to keep her distance were soundly ignored. “That’s what comes of being a nice big brother,” he muttered to himself when they got to the Sharma house and Aditi attached herself to Nayna like a human limpet.
“Were you speaking to me?”
He shook his head at Madhuri. “No, sorry.” He took in her flawless makeup, her tight top that showed a little too much cleavage, her skinny jeans, and had zero reaction. Nayna, meanwhile, was wearing a loose white linen shift with three-quarter-length sleeves, and he wanted to tear it off and lick her up like candy.
“Sooo, you and my sister are serious.” A waggle of Madhuri’s eyebrows. “I’m happ
y for Nayna.”
He had the feeling she was sincere. He also had a feeling that Madhuri was used to being the center of attention. Even though she was happy for her sister, she kept attempting to outshine her. Not just the clothes and the makeup and the flashy earrings. The charming of his parents, the way she got Aditi away from Nayna by talking hair trends, how she took over a conversation Nayna was having with her own father.
It annoyed him.
Especially when Nayna’s entire family didn’t even seem to notice, as if the behavior was so normal that it didn’t ping on their radar. He scowled, gaining a dark new insight into Nayna’s upbringing.
What kept the fuse on his temper from igniting was that Nayna’s quiet beauty and inner warmth continued to shine despite Madhuri’s flash. Aditi floated back to Nayna, and his parents smiled huge smiles at her as she kept the evening flowing, making sure the music was just right and speaking to everyone with a natural warmth.
Everyone but him. Him, she avoided.
Raj narrowed his eyes and waited for his chance. This was New Year’s Eve, and he intended to start the coming year as he intended to end it: kissing Nayna.
* * *
Raj’s bubbly little sister chatted to Nayna while Nayna refilled a snack plate in the kitchen—and hid from Raj. She was feeling very raw at the moment, having caught sight of Madhuri and her father laughing uproariously at something earlier that afternoon. After which Gaurav Sharma had hugged his older daughter.
It was stupid, but Nayna had felt so left out, so second-best.
Never good enough.
Rebellion had stirred, slammed up against who Raj was becoming to her. If she walked away from him to prove a point to her father, she would be stupid. But the idea of falling in with her parents’ plans, of being good little Nayna, it grated.
Hence the hiding.
Torn in two directions, she’d taken the mature stance of avoidance.
Aditi, meanwhile, was being very cute, subtly grilling Nayna. She played along. Raj must be a good brother if his baby sister was so protective of him. “Your brother Navin and his wife couldn’t come?” she asked during a break in the questioning.
“Yeah, his friends do a party every year.” Aditi wandered over to the end of the counter near the fruit bowl.
“You can look if you like,” Nayna said, spotting Aditi’s curious eyes on a pack of photographs she’d had printed the other day. “It’s only photos of family and friends.” She turned to find the rest of the sweet chili dip. “We still like to do albums.”
“Ma does the same,” Aditi murmured, opening the pack.
Aha! There was the dip, shoved behind a giant head of lettuce. Grabbing it, Nayna went to scoop it out into the serving bowl.
“Hey!” Aditi held up a photograph. “Why do you have a photo of Harlow?”
Nayna smiled, remembering the day at Ísa’s apartment when she’d snapped the shot. “He’s my best friend’s brother—stepbrother, technically.” Ísa just called Harlow her brother because that was who Ísa was, a woman with an incredible ability to love. “Do you know him?”
Aditi nodded, a shy smile curving her lips. “We met at this thing our schools did together.”
“He’s lovely, isn’t he?” One of the sweetest teenage boys Nayna had ever met.
Aditi’s cheeks pinked and she bit down on her lower lip. After glancing out the door as if to check if anyone else was nearby, she said, “We’re going to the movies together next week, when he has a little time off from his internship. Just, you know, as friends,” she added quickly.
“Do your parents know?” She didn’t want this spunky girl in trouble.
But Aditi nodded. “Raj bhaiya spoke to them,” she said, using the word for brother after Raj’s name—a normal thing for such a younger sibling. To simply say her older brother’s name would sound wrong, a harsh scratch on a record.
Aditi gave Nayna a measuring look. “He’s always been as strict as them, really overprotective. But… he’s changed.”
Nayna had to fight not to show her reaction, but the warmth uncurling inside her felt like a living thing. “Has he?” she asked, and it came out husky.
“Yeah,” Aditi said. “I mean he’s still bhaiya.” A roll of the eyes. “So bossy and wants to know every detail of where Harlow and I will be, but it’s like he really thinks about what I ask him before he gives an answer instead of just saying no to stuff like this.”
Nayna finished preparing the tray, a tightness in her chest. “He sounds like a wonderful brother.”
“The best,” Aditi said at once. “Even before. Shall I take that tray? And can I keep the photo of Harlow?”
“Thank you, and yes, you can.” Nayna handed over the tray, then reached out to fix one of Aditi’s curls so that it was no longer bouncing in her eye.
She waited to let out a shaky exhale until after the girl had disappeared into the backyard, where everyone was gathered under colorful lights Madhuri had strung up. Aditi’s words, what they implied… they cut her knees out from under her. Raj had listened to Nayna. Not only had he listened, he’d understood.
Confusion reigned in her, crashing against the need to break the shackles and a compulsion to shackle herself to Raj.
* * *
Raj slipped into the house five minutes after he saw Aditi come out and realized everyone aside from Nayna was out on the lawn. He tracked her down in a hallway inside the house. Pinning her between the hands he’d braced on the wall on either side of her, he said, “It’s nearly midnight.”
“Raj.” She pushed at his chest while casting frantic looks around him. “They’ll notice!”
“No they won’t. Our parents are involved in a heated discussion about that Indian soap opera they all watch, and our sisters are playing a game on Madhuri’s phone.” He nuzzled her, taking her scent into his lungs, settling the tension wrapped around his gut. “I’ve never kissed anyone at midnight on New Year’s Eve.”
Her hands paused pushing at his chest, curled in instead, and he wanted to shudder in sheer relief. “Never?”
“Never.” He wondered if he should tell her what other things he’d never done. “Have you?”
She shook her head, her eyes huge and her teeth biting down on her lower lip.
“How about it?” It came out a rough request.
Running her hands down his chest in that possessive petting way that gave him hope, she rolled her lips inside her mouth and when she parted them to speak, they were pink and wet. “Okay,” she whispered. “But you have to figure out how.”
“Leave me to it.” His jeans were ridiculously uncomfortable in the crotch region right now. “I have to go get my cock under control first.”
Her eyes dipped to his jeans, and he saw the pulse jerk in her throat. “I can’t believe you just…”
Loving her scandalized response when he’d sucked and licked her bare breasts not so many nights ago, he bent close to her ear and whispered, “My cock feels like concrete. It wants to be inside your hot and tight—”
“Nayna!” It was a singsong cry from the kitchen. “I didn’t tell the folks you were in here with Raj, but you better show your face soon or you’re busted.”
Raj pushed off the wall. “I’ll see you at midnight.”
21
Happy New Year
Nayna’s breasts were sulking when she walked into the kitchen, so addicted to Raj’s touch that the tiny mounds ached at being denied it. “Where’s Aditi?”
“Keeping the folks distracted.” Madhuri gave her the once-over. “Huh. You don’t look like you’ve been doing anything at all.”
It was a good thing Madhuri didn’t have X-ray vision.
Her sister’s phone beeped before Nayna had to come up with an answer. Pulling it out of her pocket, Madhuri glanced at it. A dreamy look softened her face, her lips curving.
“Who is he?” Nayna asked her sister.
Madhuri was a flirt, had always been a flirt. However, despite what some p
eople might believe, she didn’t take it beyond flirting with most men. Regardless, she had a far richer dating history than Nayna.
Which wasn’t hard since Nayna had never actually been on a date.
As for Madhuri—Nayna didn’t know what their parents believed, but her sister had been dating steadily since the divorce. Madhuri might be commitment-shy, but she liked men, and she liked being around men and being taken care of by men.
Even living alone, Madhuri was never short of male help. The last time Nayna had been over, she’d found Madhuri’s middle-aged landlord helping her sort out a problem with her television. And there’d been nothing slimy about it—the man had just been happy to be around Madhuri’s effervescent feminine presence.
It had always been that way.
Growing up, Nayna had watched in awe as her sister drew male attention at every wedding and every large party to which they were invited. The marriage offers had begun pouring in the instant Madhuri turned eighteen, but their parents had turned them all down.
“We want our daughter to be educated and able to stand on her own feet before marriage,” her father had said to more than one hopeful suitor.
When those suitors had assured Gaurav Sharma that they’d support Madhuri’s continued studies even after marriage, he’d shaken his head. “No, this is old-fashioned. Marriage at eighteen is not what we want for our girl. She should have her university years.”
That, Nayna thought, was partly why it had hurt their parents so awfully when Madhuri eloped at nineteen. She’d thrown egg into Gaurav’s and Shilpa’s faces, caused them even more shame in the community than engendered by the affair with the master’s student. Raj had deliberately been a bastard that time at lunch, but he was also right: there remained families who wouldn’t allow their precious sons within a hundred meters of Madhuri.
Not that Madhuri cared; she had more men in her thrall than she knew what to do with anyway. Six marriage offers had arrived since Pinky’s wedding. Two from divorced males, three from never-marrieds, and one from a man who was separated as of a bare two months ago but already looking. He’d gone directly into the discard pile. No one wanted to be with a jerk.