"I hate you so much," I say, making sure to meet his intense gaze, my voice dripping with playful venom.
His lips curl into a smirk, his sharp eyes never leaving mine. He takes another step forward, and I instinctively take one back-only to feel the...
Teri hi baahon mein Panahon mein Rehna mujhe har dam sada Har dam sada
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My hands clutch at his shoulders, my body molding to his as if I belong there—like I've always belonged there.
The world outside ceases to exist, nothing but the taste of him, the warmth of his touch, the quiet promise that lingers between us.
His arms tighten around me, holding me as if he'll never let go, and for the first time in a long time, I don't want him to.
Slowly, he pulls away, his breath mingling with mine, his forehead resting against mine for a lingering moment.
Then, with a tenderness that makes my heart ache, he shifts, lowering me gently until my feet touch the ground once more.
My legs feel weak, unsteady, and he keeps his hands on my waist as if he knows. As if he's unwilling to let go just yet.
I don't move. I don't speak. I just look at him, and the way he looks back—like I'm something fragile yet untouchable—makes my pulse hammer against my ribs.
There's no turning back.
And I don't want to.
I clench my thighs together, desperately searching for relief that isn't there. Every nerve in my body is on fire, burning with a need so intense it steals the air from my lungs.
My skin feels too tight, stretched over a desire I can't contain.
I want him to touch me. God, I'd do anything for him to touch that spot between my legs, to soothe this unbearable ache.
But he's in no rush. He's taking his time, reveling in my torment, in the way my body trembles for him.
His fingers untangle from my hair, trailing down my body, leaving sparks in their wake before settling on my breasts.
He fondles them like I'm something meant to be explored, something meant to be played with.
His thumb circles my nipple, teasing, coaxing it into a hardened peak before he moves to the other.
My breath stutters, my body arching into his touch, but it's not enough. It'll never be enough.
"Beautiful," he mutters to himself, almost like he's in awe. "You're beautiful."
I sway, my legs weak, my pulse hammering. "Aziz."
His eyes snap to mine, dark and consuming, and just like that, he's unraveling me. Peeling me apart layer by layer, until I feel bared to him—not just my body but my soul.
