The sunlight filtered through the delicate curtains of their bedroom, casting a warm, golden hue over everything it touched. Meerab sat cross-legged on the bed, a book in hand that she pretended to read. Her eyes, however, were no longer following the lines of text but were drawn to the tall figure across the room.
Murtasim stood in front of the mirror, shirtless, adjusting the cuffs of his freshly ironed shirt. His muscular back was turned towards her, broad shoulders flexing as he moved. Every subtle shift in his body made his muscles ripple beneath his bronzed skin, and Meerab found herself biting the inside of her cheek, her gaze unwillingly fixated on him.
*Oh, come on,* she mentally scolded herself. *He's just a man, for heaven’s sake!*
But that didn’t stop her from admiring the way his dark hair fell messily over his forehead or how his jawline seemed sharper in the morning light. She couldn’t help but notice how his biceps bulged as he stretched, his shirt fitting snugly over his chest.
*This is ridiculous,* Meerab thought, her heart doing an annoying little flip when he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up slightly before smoothing it back.
She had always known Murtasim was handsome. It was hard not to notice when he carried himself with that quiet confidence, that brooding intensity that made her want to throttle him most of the time. But today, for some reason, watching him getting ready felt… different.
Murtasim turned slightly, catching his reflection in the mirror as he buttoned his shirt, and Meerab’s breath hitched. She quickly looked down at her book, trying to pretend she hadn’t been watching him like some love-struck fool.
*Focus on the book, Meerab. The book is your safe zone.*
But her eyes betrayed her once again, flicking up to steal another glance at him.
His movements were smooth, calculated, the way his fingers effortlessly moved over the buttons of his shirt, pulling the fabric taut against his toned chest. Meerab swallowed, her eyes lingering longer than they should have.
*Get it together! He’s just getting dressed!*
Her mind warred with her emotions, trying to push away the sudden surge of warmth that rushed to her cheeks. She was *not* going to admit, even to herself, that she found him attractive. That she admired the way he looked, how he carried himself with such effortless grace, or how that stupidly perfect smile could make her insides twist.
Murtasim, completely unaware of her inner turmoil, grabbed a bottle of cologne and sprayed it on his wrists. The scent drifted through the room, a masculine mix of cedar and spice, wrapping itself around Meerab’s senses.
She closed her eyes for a moment, the scent enveloping her, and when she opened them again, she found Murtasim catching her reflection in the mirror. His eyes briefly met hers, and Meerab's heart skipped a beat. She quickly looked down at her book, pretending to be engrossed in whatever she wasn’t reading.
“Do you need something?” he asked, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. His tone wasn’t mocking, but there was a hint of curiosity in it, as if he’d noticed her gaze lingering on him.
Meerab cleared her throat, flipping a page dramatically as if she hadn’t just been caught staring. “No,” she muttered, refusing to meet his eyes. “Why would I need something from you?”
Murtasim smirked at her defiance, turning fully now to face her. He walked over to the wardrobe, his shirt still half-buttoned, giving her an unwanted view of his toned abdomen.
*Why does he have to look like that?* she thought angrily. *It's like he’s doing this on purpose!*
He pulled out a tie and began to loop it around his neck, his long fingers deftly tying the knot. Meerab’s gaze followed the movements of his hands, fascinated despite herself. She had always found his hands… capable, strong. The kind of hands that could both protect and destroy, hands that commanded attention without even trying.
He glanced at her again, his tie now perfectly in place, his shirt fully buttoned. “You sure you’re not staring because you need help with something?” His tone was teasing now, that smug smile tugging at his lips.
Meerab scoffed, desperately trying to mask the heat rising in her cheeks. “I wasn’t staring. Don’t flatter yourself.”
He chuckled, low and deep, sending another unwanted flutter through her stomach. “If you say so.”
Meerab rolled her eyes, determined to look anywhere but at him. She hated how her mind was betraying her, how she couldn’t stop thinking about the way his body moved, how effortlessly handsome he was. It infuriated her that he could have this effect on her with just a look, a smile, or even by simply getting dressed.
Murtasim walked over to the bed, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. He leaned down slightly, his face dangerously close to hers, and Meerab’s heart rate skyrocketed. His scent overwhelmed her, making it difficult to think.
“I know you were watching me, Meerab,” he said softly, his breath warm against her cheek. “It’s okay to admit it.”
Her throat went dry, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, she narrowed her eyes at him, lifting her chin defiantly.
“I wasn’t watching,” she whispered, her voice lacking conviction even to her own ears.
Murtasim’s smirk widened as he straightened up, clearly pleased with himself. “Alright, if you say so.”
He turned away, finally walking towards the door. Meerab watched him go, her heart still racing, her thoughts still jumbled.
*Stupid Murtasim,* she thought, frowning at his retreating figure. *Why does he have to look so damn good doing nothing?*
As the door clicked shut behind him, Meerab threw the book onto the bed with a frustrated sigh, burying her face in her hands.
Maybe she hadn’t been able to stop staring at him. Maybe she had been admiring how ridiculously handsome he was. But there was no way she was going to admit that out loud.
No way at all.
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