Canvas of Love

Taste of heaven 2

Ishan's mind went blank, his hands instinctively clutching at Shubman's shirt as their lips met. The kiss was overwhelming—a chaotic mix of heat and softness that left him breathless, unable to think clearly, his heart hammering. 

For a moment, he couldn't tell where his skin ended and Shubman's began.

When they finally broke apart, both were panting, their foreheads resting against each other, breaths mingling in the charged silence.

"You're insufferable." Ishan whispered, his voice shaky, still caught in the lingering heat of the kiss.

Shubman smirked, his thumb brushing lightly against Ishan's hip. "And you're irresistible." 

His lips brushed Ishan's temple in a soft, teasing kiss.

Ishan tried to glare at him, but the intensity in Shubman's eyes made it impossible to hold the defiant expression. His heart was still racing, but it wasn't just from anger anymore.

 It was something else—something dangerous, thrilling.

"You're impossible." Ishan muttered, his voice losing its usual bite, the words barely a whisper between them.

Shubman chuckled, his touch never leaving Ishan's waist, fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles on the fabric of his shirt. "You say that, but you're not exactly fighting to leave anymore."

Ishan huffed, finally managing to push Shubman away—though his hands lingered just a second too long, reluctant to break the contact. His chest rose and fell quickly, his pulse still erratic.

"This doesn't mean anything." He said, but even to his own ears, the words lacked conviction. His flushed face and trembling hands betrayed him.

Shubman only smiled, stepping back with that maddening confidence that made Ishan's stomach tighten. "Whatever helps you sleep tonight, Kishan."

Ishan shot him a glare, then turned to walk away. But as he reached the door, he hesitated, glancing back at Shubman. 

The other man stood there, watching him with that infuriating, self-assured smirk.

For the first time in a long time, Ishan didn't have a snarky comeback. 

He just shook his head, his mind too tangled in the aftermath, and slipped inside, his lips still tingling, his thoughts a chaotic mess.

Shubman remained on the terrace, his hand slipping casually into his pockets as he watched the door close behind Ishan. He couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. "Well... this is going to be fun, princess."

After a couple of hours, Ishan found himself again on the terrace.

"Ahhh...that moron money is too much." Ishan said to himself after recollecting all the previous memories again and again.

Inside, the world outside the terrace seemed to fade completely as Ishan tried to process what had happened. 

Soon, he heard some foot steps near the gate. He knew who it was.

But there was no time for reflection. 

Shubman hadn't let go—his presence was still wrapped around Ishan's senses like an inescapable pull.

Ishan could feel it before he even turned around—the pressure in the air.

Shubman turned Ishan to face him who was just holding his breath due to the closeness.

Shubman's hand moved once more, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on Ishan's waist.