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"What are you doing here?" he asks me, his eyes raking over my drenched body and widening. Instantly, he opens the door further, allowing me to slip inside and grab a towel from somewhere, handing it to me.
My sobs may have taken a backseat f...
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When I walk down the stairs in my gray sweatpants and a plain white tee ten minutes later, Anaya’s back is to me. She’s standing at the counter just outside the kitchen, setting up our dinner plates.
In a second, I’m on her.
My hands slide under the hem of the soft pink short kurti she’s wearing, and her gasp turns into a soft whimper as I press a kiss to her shoulder. She tilts her head instinctively, giving me room, and I take full advantage—nuzzling in, leaving a wet kiss against her skin as my calloused fingers skim across the warm softness of her stomach.
“Aayansh,” she breathes, voice all heat and warning.
“Mm, baby?” I murmur against her ear, biting her lobe and then soothing it with a slow lick.
She squirms in my arms, biting back a smile, before gently pushing me away. Her face twists into a playful scowl, and she raises a finger like a teacher disciplining a rowdy child. “No distractions. Go sit down and eat your dinner!”
I don’t even try to hide the grin spreading across my face. With a dramatic sigh, I pull her chair out and guide her into it with a hand at her back. Then I plate up her food—paneer tikka, roti, and salad—and set it in front of her.
She stares at me in surprise, brows raised. I lean in and press a soft kiss to her forehead. “What?” I say, shrugging casually. “You cook, I serve. Teamwork.”
Her confused expression shifts into a warm smile—until she sees my plate. It's just salad. Cucumber, tomato, a bit of cabbage. That’s it.
Her eyes narrow. “What’s this?”
I grin like an idiot and point helpfully. “That’s cucumber. That’s tomato. And—”
“I know what it is, smartass,” she cuts me off, rolling her eyes. “I mean why aren’t you eating roti and sabzi?”
“I told you,” I begin carefully. “Strict diet. Cheat day was during the engagement. This week, it’s back to healthy mode. Just salad for me.”
Her nostrils flare slightly. Calm voice, deadly eyes. “You’re saying you’re not going to eat the food I just spent an hour cooking?”
Panic sets in. “No! I mean—it's not that I don't want to—I just—uh—” I fumble like an idiot, completely lost for words. Earlier today I faced her father and her ex without flinching. But now, I can’t tell her I don’t want to eat spiced food?
She scoffs, unimpressed. “Uh, oh, ee, ou—save those sounds for later. First, eat.” She scoops a generous helping of sabzi onto my plate and follows it with three rotis.
I blink at the plate. “But I’ll get fat. Lose my charm.”
Her sharp gaze snaps to mine. “Ab kise charm karna hai? Mein kaafi nahi hu kya?”
