THE IMPERFECT PERFECTIONS

•Δ48~𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨?

♡ ☆ .♡‧₊˚ ☆ .♡ ‧₊ ♡‧₊ ☆ .♡ ☆ .♡‧₊˚ ☆ .♡ ✩

"Do you want me to close my eyes?" she asked, her voice soft as she supported Aditya who was leaning against her while attempting to take off his trousers.

"How will you help me then, genius?" he shot back, a mix of irritation and embarrassment lacing his words.

It had been weeks since his injury, and yet his wife insisted on helping him with everything, including taking a shower.

And while that wasn't his concern, his biggest concern was the endless stream of questions  What soap do you prefer? Do you want to use my shampoo because yours doesn't smell good enough? Do you want to sit or stand?

It was as if she thought he'd never bathed himself in his entire life.

With gentle care, she positioned him near the shower. She had placed waterproof bandages earlier to  protect his wounds.

She turned on the shower but didn't  notice how close she stood to the spray.

The water hit her white T-shirt, soaking it instantly. The fabric clung to her body, becoming translucent and revealing the delicate lining of her bra beneath.

Aditya, standing mere inches away, tried and failed to keep his gaze from wandering.

His heart thudded, the rising steam and her unwitting allure clouding his already fragile self-control.

Oblivious to the storm she'd stirred within him, she reached for the shampoo, stepping closer.

Her fingers worked into his hair, massaging the shampoo with slow and  deliberate movements.

He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the soothing touch rather than the tantalizing sight in front of him.

Her hands were featherlight as her fingers threaded through his hair with sensations that sent chills down his spine.

Every brush of her skin against his felt deliberate yet innocent. The whole thing was a paradox that set his nerves alight.

The floral scent of her perfume mixed with the steam, creating an intoxicating haze that consumed his senses.

As she leaned closer to rinse the shampoo, her soaked shirt brushed against his arm. He clenched his jaw, every muscle in his body tightening in restraint.

The small confines of the shower were amplifying every accidental touch and every shallow breath.

The water cascaded down his neck, streaming over his arms that was supported by her and trailed onto her shoulders.

He opened his eyes, unable to resist any longer.

She was radiant in the misty glow of the bathroom light,her lashes were damp, her cheeks flushed with the heat and her lips slightly parted.

Tiny droplets of water clung to her face, catching the light like diamonds. She seemed utterly unaware of the effect she had on him, and that made it worse.

She felt his hand on her arm and froze, her hands still tangled in his hair. Her eyes lifted to meet his, the vulnerability in her expression igniting something primal in him.

"Aditya..." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

His silence was more telling than any words. His eyes traced the curve of her face, lingering on her lips before locking onto her eyes once more with a dark and  magnetic intensity.

"You need to let go of my hand," she murmured with a trembling voice, "I can't help you like this."

But his grip on her arm tightened, his thumb brushing against her damp skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.