❝𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝑶𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆.❞
In the blink of an eye, she became my obsession, a dazzling enchantress I couldn't resist. From that very moment, I swore to make her mine. Even if it meant faking m...
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Roop's Pov
The moonlight painted my room in shades of silver, its glow softer than the chaos of my thoughts. The faint rustle of the breeze through the curtains was the only sound, aside from the wild pounding of my heart.
Aaryavir had left me breathless earlier, the intensity of his presence lingering like a storm refusing to dissipate. I had thought that would be the last of him for tonight. I should have known better.
Standing by the window, I traced a finger along the edge of the cool glass, my reflection blurred and ghostly in the dim light. My mind wouldn't stop replaying every moment of his touch, every unspoken word between us. It was suffocating, intoxicating-and yet, I longed for it. How could one man hold such power over me?
And then I heard it.
The soft creak of the door.
I froze. My breath caught in my throat as the stillness of the room fractured into a thousand shards. The air shifted behind me, heavy and warm, carrying a presence I could never mistake. I didn't need to turn around. His energy wrapped around me before his hands ever could.
A second later, I felt it-the unyielding grip that pulled me back into a chest I knew too well. His heat seeped into my skin, his touch anchoring me even as it sent my thoughts spiraling into chaos.
"Aary," I gasped, his name tumbling from my lips like a secret.
"Yes, baby," he murmured, his voice low and rough, brushing against the shell of my ear. His breath was warm, teasing, and it sent shivers cascading down my spine.
I bit back a smile, my heart racing. "You can't stay away from me for one night, can you?" I asked, my voice trembling despite my attempt to sound steady.
"Hn," he grunted softly, his lips grazing the curve of my neck. "I can't."
There was something raw in his admission, something that made my knees weak. His lips trailed over my bare shoulder, slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of heat that made it impossible to think straight. I hated how easily he unraveled me, how effortlessly he turned my resolve to ash.
"Aary..." I whispered again, but my voice was swallowed by the sensations consuming me.
One of his hands moved to his pocket, and I felt the shift against my waist. My instincts kicked in, my breath hitching. "Wh-what are you doing?"
"You need to return some favors, Precious," he replied, his voice dark and teasing.
And then I felt it-the soft brush of fabric against my temple as he fastened something around my eyes.
"Aary-" I started to protest, but he shushed me with a gentle press of his lips to my temple.
"Trust me," he said, his tone both a plea and a command.
