Serendipitous Saturation ✔ [Completed]

Chapter 11 - Snapshots

Vansh Raisinghania was fairly well accustomed to hair tickling his face first thing in the morning.

Or fur.

Sometimes.

Aadhya occasionally crept into his bed at night if she had a nightmare, usually accompanied by her favourite stuffed animal of the moment. On one occasion she'd brought with her an ugly devil creature of a doll with wild red hair and black staring eyes that she'd inexplicably grown attached to. He'd hated that thing and the sight of those dead eyes as he opened his first thing staring back at him had almost given him a heart attack.

So when he scrunched up his nose as he woke up as he felt something irritate it his immediate thought was that his daughter had crawled in beside him as he slept. But, this time, as he opened his eyes blearily it wasn't fine brown locks that were the cause of his awakening. Or, thankfully, a Satanic doll.

He blinked. Chestnut waves in his eye line and cinnamon scent hit him immediately. Riddhima. Of course.

She was tucked up against his back. Or, more likely, he'd spooned her during the night. He sighed contentedly and adjusted his eyes to the burgeoning light of the bedroom. He raised himself up slightly to read the clock. Seven forty-two. He moved closer, dropping a kiss to her hair as he pulled her against him, rested his hand on the flat plane of her stomach just under where her T-shirt had ridden up. He closed his eyes, rubbing small circles across its smooth skin. His next thought was that he could get used to this, waking up next to her every day.

She murmured softly, still asleep, placed a hand on top of his, grinding against him a little.

His body responded immediately and he rocked against her ass instinctively, inwardly groaning.

They'd cuddled the night before after he'd come to bed in his boxers and a pale green T-shirt. It had felt wonderful to hold her against him like that, kiss her hair, her lips, run his fingers over her soft skin in the dark. They'd gone no further than that when sleep claimed them. She'd stuck to her word, had almost acted shyly as if they were virgins on their wedding night. He wasn't sure if it was a punishment to keep matters so chaste or fear he'd scarper again if she allowed him more than that. She'd held his hand in hers until they'd fallen asleep. He had no idea if it was an act of comfort or a way of keeping it from wandering over her body. Or keep him from wandering, period.

There was still so much to learn about her and he somehow doubted he ever would. And he was inordinately pleased that was the case. As much as he wanted to know everything so he could predict what she might like or might think, he still wanted to be surprised occasionally. He had read people his whole life. And those he could not, or at least could not consistently, was something of a rare occurrence. With her, although an open book with her directness, she was still somewhat of a mystery to him. She'd surprised him the evening before when he'd returned. She had a fierce temper and he expected to be blasted by her, perhaps even dumped on his ass for running out at such a moment.

But instead, she'd coaxed him into admitting the truth of how he felt. She hadn't looked at him as a pitiful soul, he'd saw none of that in her expression. Just pushing him with her no-nonsense approach and those beautiful compassionate eyes of hers had made him open up to her willingly.

He moved some hair from her neck and pecked it tenderly. A soft moan escaped her, enticing him to do it again. He swept his tongue across a freckle and her butt ground into him again. He closed his eyes, pushing back and stifled a moan of his own as he felt the curve of her buttocks writhe against him. He took a breath, deciding how to proceed. She'd be awake soon. What if he wasn't able to follow through again? And as understanding as she had been, he was on thin ice with her, surely. One more strike and he might just be out.