She nearly groaned at the delay, revelling as he neared his target. Her thoughts went haywire, her mind hazed as she waited for the completion of his kiss.
Pecks. He gave her little pecks that tantalised and made her blood race. Made her lips want to cling to his. Torturing, teasing, he delayed the contact, heightening her anticipation. He nibbled her earlobe, sending shivers stealing over her skin. Yes, he promised pleasure. A deluge of it.
She moaned in protest and he finally ended the torture. Or began it. Their mouths fused and a rush of pleasure surged into her, flooding her veins, reaching every nerve ending. His kiss was everything she wanted it to be. More. It was wine and headiness. A soft torture deepening into an abyss of pleasure that only made the ache inside her sharpen. Her body become more aware of what he promised and what she had been missing.
He groaned, his hand stealing upward, finding the curve of her breast. His palm covered it and she gasped, sensation clenching low in her body as he moved his thumb unerringly over the nub. Shivers rocked her and settled into a knot in her belly as she moaned her need aloud, fingers trapping into his hair, stroking down over his nape. She clung to him as though she couldn’t ever let go. Hungrily absorbing the feel of his skin.
In a minute she’d be completely undone. Even now the urge to cast every barrier aside and go with him over the edge was furiously pumping in her bloodstream, pounding with every heartbeat, suffusing every cell.
Somehow she pulled away from him. Only a vestige of sanity remained. Breathless and disheveled, she came up as he shifted away.
Dark gold eyes held her gaze, potent like vintage wine. She shook away the temptation—the burning craving—to slide back into his arms and forget whatever existed beyond that precious, sensual, insidious circle.
Impulse. That was all it was.
She had given in to the impulse.
She waited for her breath to come back. For reason to come back.
‘Need another demonstration?’ His voice was tinged with mockery and the rawness of suppressed desire.
‘Following the moment brings its own consequences, Rihaan. I learnt that the hard way.’ She had been the rule-breaker. The one not afraid to try the deeper waters. And then she had gone too far. The price she had paid, she hadn’t even known she was paying it till it was too late.
He would have to accept her refusal. ‘You were right the first time. We need rules. One shouldn’t just rush headlong into things. It’s… it’s devastating when it all ends,’ she whispered.
‘Tell me.’
She stared at him. With desire still fresh, all she wanted to do was get away from him and hide. As though sensing her desire for escape, he caught her wrist, anchoring her.
‘What happened?’
‘The food—’ she started to say, gesturing towards their picnic hamper.
‘In a minute,’ he told her. ‘It has something to do with these, doesn’t it?’ He traced the scars at her elbow.
She flinched. So much for thinking he hadn’t paid much attention to them. He probably even knew, or at least had an intelligent surmise of how they had formed. No hope of hiding them from him now. No length of sleeves would cloak their presence from his eyes.
Yet that was the idea. To take what came in her stride and not hide any more. Wasn’t it?
Beyond the desire to open up, the deep need to know in his gaze prodded her on. She shook her head, ‘I don’t know where to start. It’s so complicated.’ She started in a low voice, gaining confidence as she went on. ‘From the early months of our marriage, Munish and I had troubles. We weren’t getting along well. Things just kept getting worse. In retrospect, I can see everything leading to the final breaking point. But at the time it didn’t feel like that. Things would get bad then they became normal again or even surprisingly better at times like family functions and weddings. Yet his mother kept getting more and more openly insulting to me. I thought, for Munish’s sake, I should tolerate everything she and his family put me through. That I had to be strong.
‘The thing is, I wasn’t being strong, Rihaan. I was being weak. I was refusing to face what was before me. That I didn’t feel the same as I did when I married him. Even refusing to admit it when I no longer wanted him. I made excuses for not wanting sex. I was tired. I was in a bad mood. But the truth was I didn’t want him to touch me. He thought he had every right as my husband—’
‘He didn’t try to force you!’ Shock sounded in his voice as a fist curled at his side.
Instinctively she put out a hand on his arm. She shook her head. ‘He had that much decency when it came to it. But I wouldn’t go through it again. I was frightened because he came close to losing control more than once. Very close.’
Rihaan swore a string of ear-burning words. ‘I would like to kill that bastard.’
‘No. He was just the product of his environment. Maybe that was his way of loving me even.’ She forced the words past the tightness in her throat. ‘He gave me everything in the way of material goods. Everything, but he didn’t know what I wanted was to have and hold up my pride. Not be humiliated again and again by taunts and deliberate put-downs from his mother like I was every day. I couldn’t laugh the way I used to because it offended them, I couldn’t talk or mingle. She was his mother and any way she acted was sacrosanct to him. He couldn’t understand why I couldn’t cope.’
‘Then?’ The single word resounded in the evening air.
‘Then came the breaking point I mentioned.’ She fell silent, staring out at the sea, absently noting the sun touching the watery horizon. She had used to wonder what on earth had gone wrong. Cried over it. But now she was wiser. She knew it had been inevitable. Munish had been weak from the start. Weak enough to break his promise to marry Vishakha and run away with Saira instead. He had deceived everyone without a qualm. And Saira had been too full of compassion for him, too confident of her love to see that.
Why was she telling Rihaan all this? She hadn’t told this part to anyone. Not even her parents. Not the gory details to even Vishakha.
She resumed her tale. ‘I was frying puris. Lots of relatives had come for a get-together and I was making dinner. I was slow, maybe, I don’t know. I was doing my best. It wasn’t easy to take out the puris then run out across the corridor, into the dining room, smile and serve them, and then come back again to work over the hot oil. Anyway, she came and God knows why, she was really angry. She muttered something and I said I was going to serve the next lot. That was it. I was so preoccupied I didn’t even notice her action. She took the hot skillet I had left in oil and banged it on my arm. “Can’t you hurry?” she screamed at me.’
Rihaan reached for her arm. His thumb moved over the harsh ridges. ‘The reason you always wear sleeves.’ He cursed again. ‘That bitch. She ought to be admitted to an asylum.’
‘It did really hurt,’ she admitted. ‘But not as much as what Munish did later. I was literally confined to my room, supposedly recovering. I didn’t have my cell. I wanted to call Mom. In the pain, I just wanted to hear her voice and get some comfort but he kept putting me off, saying the battery wasn’t working or something. Then I overheard him and his mother and found that they were intentionally keeping me from seeing my parents. I found the cell. He’d destroyed the sim card. He kept telling his mom I would come to my senses. That he would talk to me. Bring the useless worker to trained condition like I was a horse to be broken.’ The bitterness spilled over in her voice despite herself.
She continued. ‘I got out. Very quietly. Went to my friend’s house. Papa was ill and I didn’t want to disturb him. Munish found out where I was and came to persuade me to come back. But the scales had fallen from my eyes. I knew I would never trust him again.’
‘And you were right not to,’ he said quietly. He leaned forward and brushed the tears she hadn’t realised were falling from her cheeks. ‘Why are you crying?’ he demanded, a rough edge to his voice. ‘If it’s for him…’
‘No, it’s for the thin
gs which are gone. Things which won’t ever come back.’
‘Those that won’t, won’t,’ he said. ‘Don’t cry, sweetheart. God, I could strangle them.’ His jaw tightened as he seemed to dwell on the prospect for a moment, then he said roughly, ‘Forget them. Forget it all. Don’t think about things not coming back. Maybe they weren’t meant to be in the first place. Let them go.’
‘I keep thinking if I had tried harder…’ Her voice caught between a sigh and a sob.
‘I could shake you for that. What you did was very brave. You were braver than most women can be. Nobody has the right to devalue you. And whoever does that to a person deserves to be ditched. You did no wrong, Saira. Never feel that.’ Rough, intense words, they rang with conviction till she had no choice but to believe. More tears came into her eyes at his obvious unquestioned acceptance of her admission. How could Rihaan understand but Munish, who had supposedly loved her, hadn’t been able to?
‘Come here.’
With a small sound she went forward. His arms came round her. To hold her. Some time ago they had threatened. Now they represented the deepest security she had known. She marvelled at the change. Then stopped marvelling. Stopped thinking. Just let him comfort her. Enjoyed the healing warmth seeping into her senses. Her eyes stung. Her heart felt a new kind of pain. But it wasn’t a bad pain. Somehow she knew it as she clung to him, squeezed tighter in an embrace which felt as though he’d always hold her secure.
Always. What a treacherous word. You couldn’t rely on always.
When you couldn’t rely on the always witnessed by the pious agni, the fire around which marriage vows were taken, how could you rely on anything at all?
She let go and he relaxed his hold. ‘Thanks,’ she said.
Silence came and settled between them. Not a bad silence but rather a quiet one after the emotional talk. She became aware that night had fallen while they had talked. The wind had picked up slightly, causing the fronds of the tall coconuts to sway.
He got up, started to pick up the things, the still packed meal. ‘Rihaan…’ He stopped.
She gestured, feeling awkward. ‘I need to tell you, I can’t go for an affair. After what happened, it just won’t feel right to me.’
He gazed at her a second longer than necessary. Tension spiked again, something alien feathering along her nerve endings at that steady regard. She drew in a sharp breath. All talk of not feeling that it was right seemed to be evaporating far too rapidly.
‘If you expect me to say I understand…’ He gave a short laugh. ‘But I do accept it. It’s absolutely your decision to make. I’m glad you’re chalking out your comfort zone.’ He paused and added with bare honestly, ‘Not comfortable but… glad.’
CHAPTER SIX
THEY HAD THE neglected picnic meal, finally, sitting at the small table set up in the kitchen.
Fresh after showering, they ate it with gusto. Micro-waved, the food sent out a beguiling fragrance. The tacos she had made weren’t nearly as good after reheating but Rihaan assured her the tasty filling made up for that.
‘I’m sorry I made you lose your appetite back there.’ Saira jerked her thumb in the general direction of the beach. She felt slightly guilty about pouring out her troubles. She had revealed her scars in more ways than one. Had it been wise?
And had it been wise to turn down his offer? Spruced up and every bit as fragrant as the food, the way he looked, it was debatable which was more appealing. From where she was sitting, he didn’t have much competition.
She wouldn’t be human if she didn’t feel a pang of regret… Her gaze roved over wet, still drying hair shaping his skull, healthy, glowing skin, shapely masculine hands cutting into his food.
‘I can fast a bit.’ The note of mockery had her head jerking up. Had it been a double entendre? Judging from that tilt of the corner of his mouth and the gleam in his eyes, yes. Her breath caught in anticipation at his implication that he could wait for her to succumb to his suggestion they become lovers.
But it was dangerous, she knew. Dangerous to want to give in to the impulses he had brought to jerking, wakeful, aching aliveness inside her.
Later, after dinner, she excused herself. The emotional rehash had left her tired. But sleep wouldn’t come. She wandered to the veranda overlooking the lush garden and stood leaning against a support pillar, listening to the insects buzzing in the night. Her own contradictory emotions made her stomach churn. She wanted him physically, yes, but could she take the emotional component out of it? And emotions carried the risk of hurt. The risk of giving up so much, even her self-respect. Who knew better than she? She’d adopted a way of living that other people set out for her, existed to please them, tried to mould herself into what she wasn’t. She didn’t want to go down that road again. To give any man the chance to have that kind of hold on her that made her forget everything but the need to please him.
But what did she plan to do about the desires that he had suddenly woken to life? an insidious voice in her mind whispered.
‘Still awake?’ The deep voice drew her attention to him—all solid muscle and dark good looks—and in a mad impulse she saw herself rushing forward and falling into his arms. Why? Why did this man stir these strange treacherous feelings in her? She knew she couldn’t trust those feelings, yet their intensity swirled around her like a honeyed quagmire, sucking her in with inexorable force.
For a heartbeat, his gaze locked with hers and tension spiced the air.
‘Come with me. I have something to show you.’ He broke the moment.
Startled at the urgency in his tone, she might have been slow to react but an imperative hand closed on her wrist, taking her down the corridor to his study.
‘Have a look and tell me what you think of it.’
His laptop lit up as he swiped a finger. The screen showed her an unfamiliarly aligned text. She began to read.
The initial lines showed the scene was taking place at a bus stop and a girl was dragging a suitcase into the luggage compartment.
‘It’s a script.’ She sought his confirmation.
‘A new one.’ He nodded.
She resumed reading.
The scene rolled out as though before her. The main character was the girl, effusively thanking someone who helped her and not shy of getting chatty with strangers. Only the man she got friendly with, in the bus, was a mysterious stranger who spoke cryptically and asked her to remember him in case she met him again, even in vastly different circumstances. ‘As is bound to happen…’ his sentence echoed eerily in Saira’s mind as she read on ‘…so remember what I’m about to tell you… ’
Rihaan found himself gazing intensely at her face for her reaction. He hadn’t shown his work to anyone else except professionals. It felt strange to do so now. But she had expressed a desire to know more about his work and he had taken the plunge.
The so-far-and-no-further red flag she had shown him had placed them on another platform in their relationship. Till she moved on with her life and he got back into his, surely no harm could come of a little sharing? She had shared and the stark honesty, the baring of those tender emotions still aroused his admiration. No other way could he reciprocate that trust except by opening up to her too. Except that his life was a locked diary left on the topmost shelf which you never dusted. Opening it was out of the question without the discomfort of having your throat seize up.
His work—that was his life too. And that he could share. Not that it felt particularly comfortable either. Not when it was as raw as this.
She lifted her gaze from the screen to his and the dark eyes held everything he could have wished for as a reaction to exposing his gut. Impatience. Consternation. Barely withheld amazement.
She caught hold of the lapels of his shirt, trying to shake him in her impatience. ‘Where’s the rest? You can’t just stop at this! It’s fantabulous… I want to see this movie, like, right now.’ She shook her head, regret obvious in the gesture.
He laughed, relief
flooding him. ‘As yet it’s totally unedited and random. I need to chalk out the plot properly. I wanted to show it to you because…’ he paused, then plunged in ‘…it’s inspired by you.’
‘Me?’
He shrugged. ‘Not consciously. But definitely you triggered it. It’s the first time I’ve taken up a heroine-oriented story, for one thing. The girl character is, of course, in a way you. The friendly way you talked to that reporter. The way you mixed with the sales staff at the supermarket.’
‘So you notice everything and record it for writing? Hmm, I’m not sure I like being a subject,’ she teased.
‘It’s not deliberate,’ he assured her, ‘and she won’t be all you. Just the quirks.’ He smiled as she raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m still to develop the opening properly. The sketch of the story is that this girl interacts openly with everyone, as you’ve just read in the opening. Thus, she gets to listen to a secret she isn’t meant to, a dangerous, dark secret she ought to have steered clear of. What the man tells her is a story, but really it’s a pass code, an entry to an unknown dangerous vista, maybe an alternate universe. She’s going to have to find him to get the key to getting everything back…’ He shook his head, but mostly on what crowded into his mind. ‘It’s going to piece together, I can feel it, but for now it’s very sketchy.’ He realised she was gazing at him, her mouth slightly open.
‘Not developed? And you came up with all of that in… what? Like fifteen minutes after dinner?’
‘Bit longer than that.’ He had no idea of the time frame. The character had gripped him and that was that. He still wasn’t quite comfortable that Saira had inspired it—he never drew characters quite so totally from life—but, as the story had unfolded before him, he knew it was useless to struggle against it. He hadn’t planned on writing sci-fi either. That part had just come in as he’d talked to her.
An alternate universe. He inhaled slowly as the idea shimmered across his senses, drawing him in.
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