"I hate you so much," I say, making sure to meet his intense gaze, my voice dripping with playful venom.
His lips curl into a smirk, his sharp eyes never leaving mine. He takes another step forward, and I instinctively take one back-only to feel the...
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Tujhe Milke Laga Hai Ye Tujhe Dhundh Raha Tha Main Tujhme Hai Kuch Aisi Subah Sa Jiski Khaatir Main Tha Jaga Sa Aa Tu Mera Khwab Sajaa Ja Re Maahi Aaja Re, Maahi Aaja Re
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"𝗜 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂. 𝗜𝘁'𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀," she says, her voice steady but her eyes betraying something deeper.
I feel the familiar flare of irritation rise in my chest. She always does this—always pushes when she knows exactly how I'll react.
I clench my jaw, stepping closer to her, lowering my voice so it's almost a growl.
"𝗗𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 'you don't own me' 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝘁," I whisper-yell, my tone hard enough to make her flinch slightly.
I can see the flicker of fear in her eyes, and for a moment, I feel a strange tug in my chest. She's never been truly afraid of me, never backed down even when she should have.
But there it is, that small flash of fear, and it bothers me more than it should.
Calm down, Aziz.
Control yourself.
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to soften my tone, trying to pull myself back from the edge. I can't let her see how close I am to losing control.
"𝗖𝗼𝗺𝗲," I say, my voice low but no longer harsh.
"𝗦𝗶𝘁. 𝗪𝗲'𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝘄𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗳𝗮𝘀𝘁."
I watch her hesitate for a second before she walks toward the table, her hips swaying naturally.
My eyes follow her every step, and for a moment, my mind goes somewhere else. The curve of her ass in those tight shorts, the way her legs move, it's like she's taunting me without even realizing it.
She's fucking perfect—too perfect.
I can already feel my control slipping again.
My cock hardening in my pants. The need to claim her, to remind her exactly who she belongs to, burns inside me.
But not now. Not yet.
I watch her pull out a chair, her movements slow, deliberate. She sits down, glancing up at me, waiting.
