[FEATURED IN WATTPAD INDIA PROFILE]
❝Pioneering the art of constructing love, my Kanmani.❞
Xavier teased her skin, slowly caressing her cheeks and her lips trembled.
❝You don't dare!❞
And he kissed her.
------
When he had compromised his dreams and...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Xavier couldn't help but adore the little woman in his arms. She looked beyond gorgeous, her flowing dark tresses soft to the touch, and her dark skin glowed flawlessly.
When she looked at him, he controlled himself from groaning. Her big black eyes sparkled, reminding him of stormy nights—so dark that he wanted to lose himself in them. And when his gaze drifted to those soft, pouty lips of hers, all he could think about was dragging her into a dark corner of the hall and kissing the goddamn life out of her. And then doing a whole lot more.
Fuck!
His body shuddered as he felt himself growing hard. What the hell was he thinking? How could he be attracted to her? She was too young, and whatever lecherous thoughts he had in his mind were wrong. Absolutely fucking wrong.
But God, she looked like she belonged in his arms—her full lips begging for his kiss.
Stop it. Right the fuck now!
He watched her shrink away, trying to break free from his hold, and he pulled her even closer, his arms locking around her. She was so close, her scent filling his senses—pure sandalwood, no other notes, something rare as hell for a woman. It hit him like a punch to the chest, sending a wave of warmth and memories crashing over him, memories of his mother, her hugs, the kind of comfort he hadn't felt in years. It was home.
Her soft hands rested on his arms, and he flexed his fingers around her waist, holding back just enough to stop himself from pulling her any closer, or she would know how attracted he was to her from the growing evidence in his denim.
When she wriggled, he groaned low, unable to keep his voice steady. "I told you, I want to win."
Did he want to win? Or did he just want to keep her pressed against him, in his arms? Hell, he didn't know anymore.
"I...I..." she breathed.
In his lust-fogged haze, he saw that look on her face—worry, mixed with something else—and it hit him right in the gut. His desire was fucking clouding his judgment. He blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the arousal.
Rage and annoyance—those emotions looked cute on her. But worry? That wasn't something he wanted to see again. It looked awful on her beautiful face. He wanted to wipe it off immediately.
"What, sweetheart?"
He loved calling her that. Sweetheart. The feisty little firecracker. It suited her well, as she had the heart to stand by her friends, the people she probably loved.
"I want to leave, sir," her voice was soft, pleading. "Please."
It came like an arrow straight to his heart, piercing sharp and deep. He knew he'd gone overboard with his teasing. But when he had told her the truth—that she looked ravishing—she had scowled at him.
He stared at her, thoughts clashing. She... she didn't want to be with him because she didn't like him. She hated him. Yes, that's what it was. And he had forced her to stay, kept her trapped in his arms like a fucking idiot.
He was nothing but a rusty man for a flower like her. She probably knew his age—and maybe about his divorce—and reckoned that he was acting like an old lewd leech. It was inappropriate, yet he'd kept acting on his whims for so long that he'd forgotten his limits.
She'd hated him from the start, and he had given her every reason to.
He dropped his hands, a wave of shame washing over him. "Sorry, Ms. Ashok," he muttered, his gaze searching her face for some kind of reaction.
As if released from a cage, she fled, far away from him.
It hurt him immensely. He had never wanted to harm anyone in his life. He had endured all the pain he suffered from his father for the happiness of his grandfather. Even when his heart had broken into pieces, he had happily signed for the divorce his ex-wife had requested.
But this? This woman in front of him, this beautiful fucking woman, was probably hurt by his impudent advances. His desires—his fucking lust—had poisoned everything, and it tasted bitter as hell.
"Ha!" Satya's laugh snapped him back, and he turned to face her. "I told you that you would lose."
Krithika stared between Satya and him, a confused look on her face. He waited for a response, anything at all, but she just took a step back and melted into the crowd.
He wanted to leave the damned place. It was hurting him as he realized how twisted his mind had been, how low he'd stooped. He wanted to scream, but he ignored the urge to do so in the middle of the hall, in front of everyone, and stormed out.
A great fucking start to the new year—fuck that shit!
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Do tell me what you feel about this and the upcoming chapters, always open to positive criticism.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
