Arranged Love

39. Birthday Surprises - I

Disclaimer: All the characters written below are imaginary and a work of pure fiction. There is no resemblance to any incident or situation and is written as a work of fiction.

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Smriti's POV -

Vivek hovers over me, his weight pressing down in just the right way, and I clutch his shirt tightly, feeling the warmth of his body against mine. His hand cradles my neck, gently caressing, while his eyes—those deep, loving eyes—gaze down at me with such intensity. "Happy birthday, Smriti," he whispers again, his voice low and full of emotion.

I grin back at him, unable to help the rush of love that fills me. How did I get so lucky? This man, the one holding me like I'm his entire world—I'm completely and utterly in love with him.

Our gazes lock, the heat between us thick, almost palpable. I lean in, my lips grazing near his, leaving a sloppy kiss just to the side. Vivek inhales sharply, his grip on my neck tightening, startling me just enough to send a shiver down my spine. Not too hard, but just enough to remind me how much he wants me.

I run my hand slowly down his torso, the fabric of his shirt soft beneath my fingertips. Up and down, feeling the warmth of his body heat through the fabric. Before I can go any further, though, his hand grabs mine, stopping me in my tracks. He pins my hand against his chest, his voice dropping to a low warning. "Don't start something you can't finish."

I hum softly, enjoying the playful tension, then lean forward, kissing his throat—right on top of his adam's apple. Vivek gulps, and when he smirks down at me, my heart skips a beat. "My little minx," he murmurs, his eyes dark with intent. "I'm going to have so much fun with you. What I couldn't do last night, I can finally do now, now that you're in the mood."

The air between us hums with desire, both of us staring into each other's eyes, completely lost in the moment. But then it hits me. "Umm, Vivek," I begin, hesitating for a second. "Umm, sorry but... we can't do it now."

I watch his face fall, the look of desperation so clear in his eyes that I feel guilty. He groans in frustration, collapsing onto the bed beside me, rubbing his hand over his face. "Periods," I say softly, feeling a little bad for killing the moment. "They're still going on."

Vivek groans louder, his face covered with his hands. I stay still, watching him with a mixture of sympathy and amusement, and then he mumbles, "Smriti, can you please pass me the pillow?"

I blink at him, confused, but do as he asks, handing him the pillow. Without opening his eyes, he grabs it and—oh my God—places it below  his stomach.

It takes me a second, but when I realize what just happened, my face burns with embarrassment. I'm sure my cheeks have turned as red as a tomato by now.

Vivek groans again. "This is torture."

I bite my bottom lip, trying to suppress my laughter. "Sorry," I manage to say, feeling both flustered and guilty for teasing him. But inside, I'm still laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of this moment.

The sexual tension that was once electric between us now feels awkwardly stifling. My heart is still racing, but now it's accompanied by a growing sense of embarrassment. I can feel the heat from the moment simmering in the room, making everything feel too charged and too close.

Not knowing how to diffuse the situation, I awkwardly slip out of the bed, trying to move as quietly as possible. I tiptoe towards the bathroom, feeling like every step I take is too loud.