Dreaming of White ✔ [Completed]

Chapter 11 - Private Property of Riddhima Mehta

Slowly, very slowly the world around her returned. Not to normal, though, because, honestly, how could anything ever be normal again after that. Reluctantly Riddhima eased herself back into reality, her senses registering that the wind was still howling outside, the fire was still keeping the shadows at bay and the radio was still giving off little happy static snores every once in a while.

Her senses also registered that Vansh was still lying on top of her.

His face was buried in the side of her neck, his breathing, now slow and soft, gently caressing her skin, while his damp hair was brushing her cheek. She trailed her fingers over the nape of his neck, let them softly venture out towards his shoulders to draw exploratory patterns on every inch of skin she had missed touching in the heat of the moment. She was surprised when she found a scar just beneath his right shoulder-blade. She didn't linger there, wanting to save the question that would inevitably be attached to her touch for another time. She moved on to softer skin at the nape of his neck, then let her fingers drift down, following the path of his spine. When she felt muscles starting to move beneath her fingers, she brought her hands back to his shoulders and slid her arms around him to keep him from getting up. He settled his body back against her with a sigh.

"Not too heavy?", he asked quietly, his voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper somewhere below her ear. She pushed a hand into his hair, and, not trusting her own voice yet, just shook her head. Riddhima felt him smile against her skin and could, without knowing how, tell that he was filing something away in his memory palace. Probably the discovery that she actually liked this. His full weight pressing down on her. In a strictly physical sense. Until now the words "Vansh" and "weight" had equaled burden, responsibility, fear, despair, even loss. It was nice to change that association to something far more pleasurable. Or maybe that was, what he was filing away. The almost indescribable, pleasurable stuff they had done before. She wondered where he'd put it and what it looked like. Well, she actually had a good idea, what it looked like. All of it. She blushed and was glad his eyes were closed. Though she suspected, by the way his lips twitched against her skin, he'd noticed anyway.

She glanced up at the boarded up windows, trying to see if the first light of day was already sneaking in. But it was still dark.

Good.

It meant no one would be looking for them just yet. For which she was suddenly grateful, because she really needed a little more time to process all of this.

He'd said it. He'd actually said it. And the way he'd looked at her, the way it had sounded, the way it had felt, there was no doubt in her mind or heart. He'd meant it. She closed her eyes again, the words echoing in her mind and making her heart beat faster and her stomach tighten in that strange uncomfortable but excitingly good way. He said he loved her. But he still had to hear her say it. Which she found she really wanted to, but how could anything she'd say or do compare to his mind-blowing, earth-shattering admission of love? It all sounded too small, too insignificant, too plain in her head.

She definitely needed more time to process this.

She cast her glance around the room and felt the heat in her cheeks rise again.

Since she couldn't spot a single item of clothing in the immediate vicinity, she also probably needed quite some time to get dressed again as well.

She sincerely hoped an avalanche had blocked the pass.

She focused her attention back on Vansh, when he suddenly drew in a deep breath, held it for a second and let it out against her neck in one long, very long sigh. It sounded like he was parting with something that had been inside of him for a long time.