[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.
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When he had compromised his dreams and...
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"Don't look at me like that," he furrowed his brows.
"The fuck?" she all but shrieked. "It's your birthday and you fucking never told me about it?!"
Say something, you piece of shit, she's mad at you.
He narrowed his eyes at her high-pitched curses, unfazed by her outburst. "Don't shout," he ground out. "I don't like to celebrate it with anyone. Ever," he replied calmly. "It was only with Subha—I mean, with my ex-wife. That's who I used to celebrate it with. Before or after her, no one."
She sprang up from the sofa, almost losing her balance—almost—and gripped the armrest for support. "As if that's supposed to bring in some fucking peace to my mind," she snarled. "You, Mr. Xavier Lucifer Joseph, are so done with me."
He felt his heart beating faster than ever, his mind trying to understand where he had fucked up.
Then he heard her melodious voice bursting into a fit of laughter. "Oh Xavier, your—your face!" Her dainty hands covered her mouth as she threw her head back and laughed aloud. "Oh Muruga!"
He felt like a half-wit standing there with no explanation for what was so funny about his choice to spend his birthday alone. He closed the distance, snatching her arm in his hand. "What?" he snarled.
She tugged his shirt collar with her free hand, making him jerk down to lean into her. "You thought I wouldn't know about your birthday just because you kept the world in the dark? Really?" Her breath fanned his earlobe. "Why do you think I'm wearing your favorite color, Xav?"
Fire rushed through his blood as she held his chin and looked into his eyes. "I'm sure I can't find everything about you. Stalking can only help me so much. But I'm not going to stand idle until you spoon-feed me. I like to be prepared before I enter the battlefield." Her big black eyes glanced at his lips for a second before locking back onto his. "I know what I want, and I'll seize it at every possible opportunity."
His lips parted, and he fisted her braid near the nape of her neck. He pulled it down, harder than he had intended to, and she gasped. "What do you want, my sweetheart?" His eyes stared deep into her stormy gaze. "What do you want?"
Her hands roamed over his chest and slid over his shoulders as she whispered huskily, "I want you to make me laugh with all your funny stories, but before that..." Her lips parted as her tongue slowly licked them. "...You fucking kiss me like you mean it."
"Fucking sure."
His lips crashed over hers, and they both devoured each other hungrily. He pulled her closer, trying to erase any space between them—if there was any. She fit him in all the right places, and he felt himself getting hard. A moan escaped her mouth when he pressed her against his bulging erection.
He gently pushed her to the sofa, his lips still painting colors over hers. She laid down on her back, her naked legs hanging off the edge, and he leaned along her body. He broke the kiss. Her hands kept pulling at his shirt in a plea to continue whatever he had started as his body hovered over hers. He clicked his tongue. "Tsk tsk, you're a naughty little minx, aren't you?"
She regarded him with a pout. "Only for you," and her left foot slowly traveled north over his inner thigh. He felt his skin heat, even with a thick layer of denim separating them. He caught her ankle before she could torture him anymore, then sat beside her on the sofa.
He kissed her toes. "Only for me." They curled in response.
He took a long breath, holding her gaze, and shook his head. "It's too early, darling. Far too early for us to do anything. Keep your patience. I don't want you to regret it later."
He pulled her into his lap, scooping her waist. She sat up, her eyes boring into his soul. Then her lips were everywhere on his face, feathering light kisses as she cupped his cheeks in her tiny hands. Finally, she gave a peck on his lips. "Okay, my dear birthday boy," she replied with a smile. "My, my, aren't you old, huh? Thirty-four years, too old, darling."
A few chords in his heart struck at her endearment. His eyes couldn't stop staring at her, her face as beautiful as ever, and he smiled.
"Let's cut the cake, shall we?" She clapped in joy and maneuvered herself onto his lap to face the table.
She grabbed his hand in hers and made him cut the cake, singing her cute wishes. He nuzzled into her nape, inhaling the intoxicating fragrance of her and sandalwood. She chuckled. "Hey, it's ticklish."
"Now?" He slowly nibbled her skin. She moaned, her hand tightening over his fingers. He smirked at her reaction, finally giving a light peck on her shoulder before bending to pick up a piece of cake. "Here," he offered for her to eat, and she took a small bite.
"That's so fucking good!" she exclaimed. "I'm still surprised by the fact that you can cook and bake so well." She continued, "You know, I always wanted to become rich so I could afford to have at least three chefs cook my favorite meal daily."
He chuckled. "Why three?" he asked her, finishing the leftover piece of cake in one clean shot.
"Probability," she bent to take the photos from the table. "Just in case two aren't well, one will always be around to cook." She turned to face him and pointed at a figure in the photo. "Is that cute woman Samiksha?"
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Do tell me what you feel about this and the upcoming chapters, always open to positive criticism.
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