BOOK 1 OF THE UNEXPECTED SERIES
In a world where tradition clashes with modernity, Vaidehi is a modern-day princess bound by society's rigid expectations.
Saransh, a brooding prince with a shadowed past, one he's not keen to reveal. Despite his nobl...
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Ahhh," I groan, eyes still closed, feeling a stabbing pain radiating through my body.
Shouldn't have slept in this damn saree. It's so uncomfortable, but my dear mom insists I must, because newlyweds should always dress appropriately, even in their sleep. It feels like I'm wrapped in chains, weighed down by something heavy. I try to shift positions but can't move. Panic flickers. Am I actually trapped?
Did Saransh-no way-did he bury me under a rock for taking his bed?
I pry my eyelids open, heavy and sluggish, and blink up at the culprit: Saransh. He's lying completely on top of me, like a human boulder. His tall, muscular frame is crushing me under its weight. I'm going to murder him.
He's sleeping on his stomach, one of his arms draped across my shoulder, his torso pinning me down, and his legs tangled with mine. What am I? His personal pillow? I try to wriggle free, but he pulls me closer, squishing me deeper into the bed. His breath is warm against my face, slow and even.
I look at him, at the dark lashes brushing his cheeks, the sharp lines of his cheekbones, his lips-God, his lips. Soft and perfectly shaped, so kissable that I feel my fingers twitch with the urge to touch them. Stop it.
Stop having these thoughts. But I can't look away. I've never seen him this close before.
It's weird and... intimate.
He nuzzles into my neck, pressing his face closer, and I feel his breath fan across my skin, sending an electric jolt through me. My body reacts, unbidden. Stop it, Vaidehi. But my skin is buzzing, and I'm suddenly hyper-aware of the position we're in—his lips inches from my neck, his hand dangerously close to my chest. My breath hitches.
I need to get out of this. Now.
I wiggle again, but it's pointless. Think, think.
Maybe I should tickle him? But that would mean touching him more, and I'm definitely not ready for that level of contact.
"Saransh," I whisper, hoping to wake him gently. Nothing. He doesn't stir.
"Saransh," I try again, louder this time. Still nothing.
"SARANSH!" I practically yell.
His eyes snap open, and I start panicking. He rubs his eyes looking disoriented.
Not knowing what else to do, I shove him.
He tumbles off the bed with a loud thud. The sound is so comical, I slap my hands over my mouth to stifle a gasp. Dramatic much? It's not like he's going to die from falling off the bed. Still, I pushed him harder than I intended. I don't even hate him that much.
