Desirable Night with you✨ - 21

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Rakshita's POV:

As I slowly opened my eyes and tried to sit up, a sharp pain shot through my hand. I struggled to find support and sat up, only to discover that my hand was bandaged.

Perplexed, I wondered how I hadn't noticed the injury earlier. I began to unwrap the dressing, wincing in pain as I revealed the deep cut beneath.

Just then, Yash's worried voice pierced the air, "Why did you remove your dressing? Your cut is deep." His concern was palpable, but I couldn't fathom why he was so invested in my well-being.

My gaze drifted from his chiseled face to his well-toned body, glistening with water droplets from his recent shower. He wore only knee-length briefs, and his proximity made my heart flutter.

Kneeling beside me, he gently took my hand, examining the wound with utmost care.

For the first time, I saw genuine concern in his eyes. It was unsettling, yet endearing. As he tended to my wound, his focus was unwavering, as if I were fragile glass.

I recalled the times he'd punished me, forcing me to kneel, and how my eyes would well up with tears. Now, he was tenderly nursing my wound.

"मुझे घुटनों पर बैठकर दर्द देने वाला इंसान,
आज खुद घुटनों पर बैठकर मेरा दर्द दूर कर रहा है।"

I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

As he heard my words, his hand paused momentarily, but then he continued to rebandage my wound with renewed focus. Once he finished dressing my cut, he stood up, put away the first-aid kit, and turned to leave.

I caught his hand, my curiosity and concern mingling. "Yash, I had no marks on my hand this morning. How did this severe cut appear?"

He paused, turned around, and raised an eyebrow, his piercing gaze scrutinizing me as if I had said something wrong. ''You don't remember how you got this cut?'' he asked, his tone laced with skepticism.

I shook my head, feeling a flutter in my chest. ''No, I don't recall. And please, stop looking at me like that.'' I released his hand and began to stand up.

That's when reality struck me – I was wearing only his black shirt, which fell just above my knees. The sleeves were already rolled up, revealing my arms. A surge of self-awareness washed over me, and I felt a deep blush rise to my cheeks.

My eyes widened in shock, and I exclaimed, ''What have you done? How did you change my clothes? How could you do this without my knowledge?'' My voice trembled with indignation.

I stepped forward, my hands instinctively rising to strike his chest in protest. But before I could make contact, he seized my wrists, spun me around, and pulled me close, pressing me against his bare torso.

His bare torso seemed to awaken a primal awareness within me, and I felt my face burn with embarrassment and desire.

"'Mrs. Wildy, I've already seen and savored everything about you, so naturally, I'd change your clothes too,'' he said with a sly smirk.

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