The GIRLFRIEND Deal

CHAPTER 72

Anika lay curled on her side, her pillow hugging the curve of her cheek. The night was quiet, but her thoughts were loud. Too loud.

Her fingertips still tingled. The ghost of his touch danced along her skin—the way his hand had gripped her waist, possessive yet tender. Her saree had shifted that night in the car, and so had her heartbeat. She had never felt like that before. Like she belonged entirely to someone's gaze, someone's hold, someone's kiss.

She blushed just thinking about it.

Shivaay’s lips had moved with such confidence, his fingers had brushed against her spine as if they knew the rhythm of her breath. She hadn’t known where to keep her own hands—one had tangled in his hair, the other gripped him for support, because his kiss had robbed her of balance.

She shut her eyes tightly.

What’s happening to me?

She had read about this in novels, saw in the movies—but feeling it? It was wild. Beautiful. A little scary. And utterly addictive.

Her thoughts drifted lower. To the place just below her stomach where butterflies had erupted when his palm pressed against her hip. She’d felt heat pool in places she never talked about. Her entire body had responded like it had been waiting for this moment. Waiting for him.

She wasn’t naïve. She knew what came next in the natural course of love. But she’d never really imagined it for herself. Until now. Until him.

Her thighs clenched involuntarily.

She pressed the pillow harder against herself, her face hot with shame and fascination all at once. Would it hurt? Or would it feel like the way he kisses—like falling and flying at the same time?

She’d felt his restraint this evening evening, the way he pulled back even when their breaths were tangled and her body had nearly arched into his. She had looked into his eyes, those kanji, stormy, beautiful eyes and had seen it there. The hunger. The chaos. But also, the care.

How much had he been holding back? He is so much more experienced than her.
The thought made her heart race.

She traced her lips with her thumb.

If he touched me again, below the level of what's innocent… would I stop him? Would I even want to?

She wasn’t sure.

But one thing she was certain of—Shivaay made her feel safe in her own skin. Desired. And slowly, fear was giving way to curiosity. Hesitation was blurring into longing.

She turned onto her back, sighing softly.

"God, Shivaay Singh Oberoi ne to mujhe tharki bana dia"
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Shivaay tossed the blanket aside, the AC barely helping with the heat that was crawling under his skin.

But it wasn’t the weather.

It was her.

His fingers rubbed against his lower lip—the same lip she had kissed back with equal hunger. The softness of her mouth still lingered on his skin like an aftertaste he couldn’t shake off. The memory of her bangles clinking as she shifted closer, her breathy whimper when he deepened the kiss—it all had him burning.

That damn saree.

He had tried not to stare at the curve of her waist every time the pleats swayed with her movement. Tried not to imagine how her skin would feel against his palm if he let his hand roam higher… lower…

His jaw clenched, body tightening under the sheets.

There was a moment in the car where his hand had slipped behind her neck, pulling her in, but he could feel her chest pressed against his, the warmth radiating through layers of clothes. His thumb had brushed the line of her back, and his thoughts had darkened—he’d wanted to pull her saree’s pallu off and press kisses down her shoulder. He wanted to find out how she’d react when his lips touched places he hadn’t dared to explore yet.