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This is one of the books in the series: Destined To Be. (can be called a collection of books)
The story can be enjoyed as a standalone. You can find more details on my profile.
# HEAVY EDITING START...
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As his touch traced the curve of her cheek, a shiver of anticipation danced down her whole body, sending tingles across her skin. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation, as if each caress was a gentle whisper igniting a flame within her.
"Gosh, you are so beautiful," he replied admiring her lovingly, "I haven't seen anyone this beautiful before."
She turned her face away from him, a mix of disbelief and self-doubt clouding her expression. Who would call her beautiful? No one. The thought seemed absurd, even laughable to her.
"Liar," she muttered, more to herself than to him.
She felt his hand circle her waist, pulling her closer.
"Look at me," his deep voice was firm yet gentle, coaxing her to meet his gaze.
Her eyes fluttered open, meeting the most stunning pair of dark-brown eyes radiating like gold during sunrise. She swallowed hard, realizing they looked unlike any guy she had ever encountered.
They held no trace of lust, but rather an earnest sincerity that captured her attention. It contradicted her cynical views, stirring a sense of uncertainty within her. It was as if his eyes held a depth of honesty that she hadn't expected, challenging her preconceived notions about the nature of men and their capacity for genuine connection.
Especially for a woman like her.
"Contrary to popular belief, this advocate, Mr. Baggy, doesn't lie," he said, his words sinking in, questioning her disbelief.
His plump lips were so close to hers, just a breath away. If he had wanted, he could have bloody pressed them on hers and kissed the hell out.
But he didn't move, not even slightly.
As she stared into his eyes, her heart raced like a stallion. Its thunderous beats echoed in her ears, threatening to burst from her chest. Whatever this man was doing wasn't right. Everything about this situation felt so fucking wrong, sending a surge of panic through her. She longed for it to stop.
Why is he being so polite!?
She wanted him to behave like other men, fulfill his momentary infatuation, and leave her alone. She desired to... Just fucking get him out of her system.
"Whatever." She sighed, running her left hand over his shoulder.
He shuddered, his breath coming out in huffs. Yet he remained still, his eyes drilling into hers, looking beyond her mask, asking so many questions that she wanted to run away. It was too much to bear.
Pushing him, she declared, "I have to drop you back at the hotel." Striding toward her bike, she waved dismissively. "Come on, you can run back to Mumbai soon and carry on with your life."
He stood there, seemingly frozen by her attitude... absolutely bewildered.
What did he expect? For her to agree to his ludicrous request? And how would it even work with them living in different cities? It was all so nonsensical, yet here they were, caught up in this strange moment.
Striding towards her, he held chin over his index finger, guiding her to look at him, "Devi..."
Was it some kind of plea? For what, exactly? She wanted to use a fucking time machine, wished she could dial back time, revisit the moment when she first encountered him, and simply erase it from its bloody existence. It had been her stupid attraction that had driven her to jump at the first opportunity, impulsively reach out to him, and go to meet him in the dead of the night.
And now, she was left grappling with his unexpected sentimentality and fatuousness.
How dumb is he?
"Be a big boy and forget we ever thought to fuck," she snapped.
He removed his finger as if burnt by her words, his eyes widening in surprise.
She didn't budge.
Clenching his jaw, "You're right, Miss Devika Mishra," he replied, his tone edged with a hint of anger as he scoffed, "Let's conduct ourselves like mature adults, shall we?"
Inside her eyes, it was burning like hell with the threat of tears, but she managed to smirk sarcastically at him. "Good boy," she uttered, her voice laced with biting sarcasm.
Her gaze met his, finding his eyes ablaze with fury, a storm brewing within him. He shoved her aside and took a seat on her bike, demanding the key. "I'll ride, hop now. Hope the Rajkumari doesn't mind?" he mocked.
With a calm demeanor, she inserted the key into the ignition and retorted, "I'm not a princess, Mr. Baggy,"
He sneered over his shoulder as she settled behind him, "Oh, Devika Ji, obviously not, sorry for being polite. How could you be a princess?"
The sharp remark pierced her heart like a tiny needle. Bowing her head, she stifled her tears, silently weeping as he accelerated the engine and sped away.
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A/N
If it's complicated had a face, it would be Devika Mishra.
I recall when "Shut Up And Bounce" was all the rage, supposedly due to Shilpa Shetty's zero figure or whatever. But honestly, who cared? The song was catchy, so why not just dance? However, as I matured, I grasped the lyrics' meaning and thought, "Ugh, that's not suitable for a fourteen-year-old girl to sing or dance to!"
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