LOVE SOAKED

CHAPTER 6- chai pe charcha ( conversation over a sip of tea)

ASHER

Frustration bubbled as I hung up the phone, she's called  5 times since I've arrived in India and today i had a meeting set up with the architects who were now droning on about load-bearing walls .I was on the verge of being my snappy self but, there was something or someone stopping me.

Trisha was here, and for the first time, I wasn't focused on the damn building plans. Her presentation loomed, a topic I barely registered. My gaze kept straying to her, the way the light hit her hair, the nervous flutter of her fingers against the folder. Absurd thoughts, inappropriate ones, flooded my mind. The curve of her hip around mine, the way her lips moved when she spoke, each word wanting me to bite her lip even more. Pathetic,I chided myself. Focus. I kept reminding myself only to fail.

But focus evaporated when she finished. "Any questions?" she asked, a hopeful lilt in her voice. "Just one," I managed, my voice a touch hoarse. "Could you explain that again?"

Her cheeks flamed a breathtaking shade of red.  Was I the only one who noticed the way a strand of hair fell across her face, how she tucked it behind her ear with a delicate grace? Was she a dancer?Even the shade of her nail polish – a vibrant coral against the stark white paper – my dick. Getting my head out of the gutter, Just as I opened my mouth, determined to salvage the situation, the damn door swung open.

"Asher, there you are! I need to—" Mr Vidhyuth boomed, oblivious to the tension in the room. Relief washed over me, unwelcome and cold. He manged to crack a smile and rushed out of the office saying something about urgent work and leaving Trisha here, with me....

With a curt goodbye, I watched as he left . Rain lashed down, a mirror to the storm brewing inside. "Care for a drink?" I blurted, surprising even myself.

"Sure," she replied, a hint of a skeptical smile playing on her lips. "Maybe the dream guy wasn't such a fantasy after all". "Did you say something?" She quickly retorted with a rushed and high pitched "NO"

Chuckling at her words, "Coffee?" I asked.

"Have you tried chai?" she countered, her eyes sparkling with a defiance that both surprised and intrigued me.

Stomach be damned, I couldn't say no to that look. "Sure," I conceded.

"Walking distance?" she suggested, a playful glint in her eyes.

The thought of navigating a crowded street with this woman was both terrifying and exhilarating. But her kurta was made up for some thin material which looked like it was made to drive men crazy and imagining her walking in the rain in that flimsy piece of material which would soon be see through in the rain made my dick twitch, instead, "Car," I decided, a strange possessiveness taking root.

The next few minutes were a blur of banter – chai versus coffee, Bollywood versus Hollywood romance. Just when I was about to step out, the phone buzzed in my pocket. The caller ID sent a jolt through me. The playful facade vanished, replaced by a steely resolve.

"Go inside," I instructed, my voice leaving no room for argument. "I'll be right in."

Her fiery gaze held mine for a beat, then she turned and walked into the cafe.  The rain continued to fall, but inside me, a different kind of storm was brewing, fueled by a potent mix of duty and a very unexpected desire.