The night air was still, thick with the heat of a summer that refused to leave. Inside the dimly lit bedroom of Khan Haveli, the only sound was the quiet flipping of pages as Meerab sat cross-legged on the bed, a book in her lap. Her brow furrowed in concentration, completely absorbed in her reading. The soft yellow glow from the bedside lamp illuminated her face, casting delicate shadows along her cheekbones and the curve of her lips.
Murtasim, sitting on the couch near the window, was pretending to go over some documents, his eyes supposedly scanning the papers in his hand. But in reality, he hadn't read a single word in the last half hour. His attention was wholly occupied by the woman a few feet away from him.
Meerab's long hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves, occasionally falling in front of her face. She would absentmindedly tuck it behind her ear, a simple gesture, but one that had Murtasim gripping the armrest of the couch just a little too tightly.
*Focus, Murtasim,* he mentally scolded himself, forcing his gaze back to the paper in his hand. But his willpower crumbled the second Meerab shifted on the bed. She stretched her legs out, inadvertently pushing the hem of her loose shirt higher up her thighs. The sight of her smooth skin peeking out sent a jolt through his entire body. His grip on the paper tightened, crinkling the edges.
Unaware of his internal turmoil, Meerab continued to adjust her position, the fabric of her shirt sliding further as she twisted and turned to get comfortable. Murtasim's throat went dry. He glanced at her face—completely innocent, engrossed in her book. He cursed under his breath.
*She has no idea what she’s doing to me.*
Taking a deep breath, Murtasim tore his eyes away and stood abruptly. Maybe pacing the room would help calm the fire burning in his veins. He began to walk, his hands buried deep in his pockets, but every step brought him closer to the bed. Closer to her.
Meerab didn’t even look up, her voice breaking the silence first. “Do you have to pace like a caged tiger? You’re making me dizzy.”
He stopped in his tracks, sighing heavily. “I’m not pacing.”
Meerab finally lifted her gaze, her large, expressive eyes narrowing as they locked with his. “Yes, you are. And you’re stomping like a toddler throwing a tantrum.”
Murtasim couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips. *Even when she’s annoyed, she’s adorable.* He leaned against the wooden post of the bed, arms crossed over his chest, hoping the distance would help. “Maybe if you didn’t hog the whole bed, I wouldn’t have to pace,” he teased.
Meerab rolled her eyes but scooted over slightly, patting the empty space beside her. “Fine, come sit. I didn’t realize I was monopolizing your precious bed.”
He hesitated for a moment, his body screaming for him to sit beside her while his mind warned him otherwise. But one look at her soft, inviting expression, and he was lost. Without a word, he crossed the room and sat beside her, careful to keep a reasonable distance between them. His leg barely brushed hers, but even that faint touch sent a ripple of heat up his spine.
They sat in silence for a few moments, Meerab's attention returning to her book, while Murtasim leaned back, closing his eyes as he fought to regain control over his senses. He had no idea how she could affect him so much, how every innocent movement she made seemed to ignite something primal inside him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her adjust the collar of her shirt, fanning herself slightly as if the heat in the room was getting to her. The gesture was innocent enough, but when her fingers trailed along the neckline, her skin glistening faintly in the low light, Murtasim's entire body stiffened.
