Love And Crosses ~ Short Stories Collection

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Happy Diwali, hope you will like your gift.

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She could feel his breath against her skin, the room buzzing with an electric tension as their bodies closed the gap. His fingers traced a slow, deliberate line down her spine, sending a shiver through her that made her knees weak. She leaned into him, their lips hovering just inches apart, anticipation thrumming between them.

He didn’t rush. His touch was slow, methodical, as if savoring every moment, every inch of her. His hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer until their bodies were flush, her chest rising and falling against his as their breath mingled in the heated air. She could feel the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt, the hard muscle of his chest pressing against her, every movement driving her pulse faster.

When his lips finally met hers, the kiss was soft at first, teasing. His hands roamed up her sides, fingers brushing the bare skin beneath her shirt, leaving trails of heat in their wake. She gasped, her fingers threading through his hair as the kiss deepened, growing more urgent, more consuming. His lips moved from her mouth to the sensitive spot on her neck, and she arched into him, the world around them fading away as desire took over.

Her hands explored his body, feeling the taut muscles of his back beneath her fingertips, each touch driving them both closer to the edge. His mouth returned to hers, more demanding this time, his tongue exploring hers in a sensual rhythm that left her dizzy with need. His hand slid beneath her shirt, his touch igniting a fire that spread through her veins, and she pulled him closer, wanting more, needing more.

The air between them was thick with the shared heat of their passion, each breath coming faster as they moved together, the room spinning around them. She felt his hand slide lower, teasing the edge of her jeans, and her breath hitched in her throat, her body arching into his touch—

THWACK.

A pillow came flying out of nowhere, smacking squarely on a girl's head.

"Aaah!" she gasped, her heart nearly leapt out of her chest, and the phone she had been holding tightly slipped from her grasp, landed in her lap with a thud.

Blinking in confusion, it took a moment for her to realize she had been reading a smutty scene from one of her favorite stories. Her cheeks flushed, half from embarrassment, half from frustration. Reality came crashing back in, and she glanced around her room, trying to calm her racing heart.

"JHAVNI!" her mother’s voice cut through the air, sharp and insistent. "I’ve been calling you for so long, but the maharani is busy with her phone, as always. Come have breakfast or you’ll be late for college!"

Jhavni groaned inwardly. Of course, she thought, Mom always manages to ruin the mood whenever things get interesting. She reached for the pillow that had been the culprit of her abrupt return to reality and tossed it aside, muttering under her breath.

Jhavni, rubbing her temples. "Yaar, mummy!”

Her mother got hold of another pillow, ready to give a headshot.

“Din par din, badtameez ho gayi hai, aapni Saas ko bhi ‘yaar’ bulayegi?” Her mother came forward with the pillow.

"Day by day, you've become more mischievous; you even call your mother-in-law 'mate'?"

“Mummy yaar, kaha aage pohoch gayi aap” She sighed, shaking her head. This had become a new way for her mother to remind her that she was of age. ( Not actually she is just 22, but typical Indian
parents.)
“Phir yaar!”.