The Silent Seduction

39. ARJUN

The moment I stepped into Mahira's cabin, I spotted them-Mahira and Rohan, standing too close for my comfort. His presence, the way he loomed over her, it triggered something in me that I couldn't explain.

A simmering anger, yes, but more than that, a possessiveness I hadn't felt in a long time. I didn't know what they were talking about, but the expression on Mahira's face told me enough.

She was uncomfortable, her body language stiff, her hands clenching slightly at her sides, her gaze darting away from him whenever he spoke.

Rohan didn't notice, or maybe he chose not to. He kept talking, oblivious, like he belonged in her space, like he had a right to stand that close to her. And I hated it.

Something dark twisted in my chest, a sharp stab of jealousy mixed with anger. I wasn't used to feeling this way—this raw, consuming need to claim what was mine, to remind her, remind him that there was no room for anyone else. Not in this. Not in Us.

I didn't know what they were talking about, but I knew I had to intervene, had to break whatever spell Rohan thought he was weaving. Mahira's eyes flicked toward me, and in that split second, I saw the relief in them. That was all I needed.

I strode toward them, my gaze hard on Rohan, though my words were meant for Mahira. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, a little too quickly, her lips parting as if to say something but then stopping herself. Her eyes were still on me, and I could feel the tension radiating off her, like a taut wire ready to snap. Rohan didn't bother to hide his irritation at my interruption, but I didn't care.

"I should get going," Rohan said, his voice flat, his eyes lingering on Mahira for a beat too long before turning and walking away.

I didn't move, not until he disappeared from sight, leaving us alone. Only then did I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding, my gaze shifting back to Mahira. She looked... different.

Not the cool, composed woman I was used to seeing. No, she was something else right now- vulnerable, unsettled. And it hit me all over again how much I hated seeing her like this, hated that Rohan had been the cause of it.

"Mahira?" I asked again, my voice quieter this time, trying to pull her out of whatever was running through her mind.

She didn't answer right away, but when she did, her response wasn't with words. It was in the way she moved—swift, purposeful, closing the distance between us before I could even process it. And then her lips were on mine, hard, urgent, demanding.

For a split second, I was frozen, caught off guard by the suddenness of it. But then instinct took over, and I kissed her back, just as fiercely, my hands gripping her waist as I pressed her against me.

I didn't understand why she kissed me like this. It wasn't gentle, it wasn't soft. No, it was raw, desperate, as if she needed to erase something-him-from her mind, from her lips. As if she needed me to do it for her.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, as if that were even possible. I could feel her nails digging into the back of my neck, and something about the slight sting only fueled the fire inside me.

I broke away, just for a second, just long enough to catch my breath. "Mahira... what the hell—?"

"Don't," she whispered, cutting me off, her voice thick with something I couldn't quite place-anger? Desperation? Fear? "Just... don't talk. Not now."

I searched her eyes, trying to figure out what was happening, what had triggered this, but she wasn't giving me any answers. Instead, she was pulling me, dragging me toward the desk, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

Before I could say anything else, I was pressed against the table. I barely had a second to think before she was on me again, kissing me like she was drowning and I was her only source of air.

There was something different about this kiss—something darker, more intense. It wasn't just passion; it was something more primal, more possessive. Her hands fisted in my shirt, pulling me closer, deeper, as if she couldn't get enough.

And fuck, neither could I.

But still, there was something nagging at the back of my mind. I pulled back just enough to catch her gaze, my breath heavy. "Mahira, what the hell happened with Rohan?" I asked, my voice rough, barely controlled.

Her eyes flashed, something dark flickering there for just a second before she looked away. "It doesn't matter," she muttered, her voice tight. "He doesn't matter."

But I wasn't convinced. I could feel it in the way she was kissing me, the way she was touching me, like she was trying to purge something, trying to rid herself of whatever Rohan had stirred up inside her.

I wasn't going to let him have that kind of power over her. Over us.

"He does matter if he made you feel like this," I growled, my fingers gripping her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. "Tell me what he said."

She shook her head, pulling free from my grip, her hands moving to unbutton my shirt. "I said it doesn't matter," she repeated, her voice harder now, more insistent. "Just... just make me forget, Arjun. Please."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I realized then that this wasn't about Rohan anymore. This was about us. About whatever was brewing between us, whatever lines we kept crossing but never talked about.

I wanted to make her forget. Hell, I wanted to forget too.

So I kissed her again, hard and fast, pushing her back against the table. She gasped into my mouth, her body arching against mine as I pressed into her, my hands running down her sides, gripping her hips, pulling her closer until there was no space left between us.

And just like that, everything else- the office, Rohan, the world- disappeared. It was just us now. Just me and her, tangled in a web of anger, lust, and something deeper, something we were both too scared to name.

Her hands moved to my belt, and I knew there was no stopping this. No turning back. Whatever was happening between us, whatever had been simmering beneath the surface for so long, was about to explode.

And I was ready to let it.

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