ONGOING + EDITING
𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐇𝐈 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋♡
Bow to the queen before speaking ~
A beauty with brains and has a sassy attitude with a sunshine personality. At just the age of 21, she achieved success in the business field. Princess of Agarwals and...
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The morning felt the best moment of my life after five rounds of the ultimate session of our love making.
I woke up to the sound of his heartbeat.
It was a slow, steady rhythm, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world had finally matched his pace.
My cheek rested on his chest, skin against skin, the faint rise and fall beneath me more comforting than any blanket could ever be.
His arm was wrapped lazily around my waist, the other stretched on the bed.
We were tangled in bedsheets and quiet, like a half-written poem—warm and beautifully unfinished.
For a long moment, I didn’t move.
I just stayed there, soaking it all in.
I listened to his breathing, felt the warmth of his body, and let his scent cling to the pillow.
His breath brushed softly through the strands of my hair, a tender caress.
I lifted my head slightly, just enough to see his face in the soft, gold wash of morning light that filtered through the curtains.
And God, he was beautiful.
His hair was tousled, a charming mess, and his lashes seemed far too long for someone so utterly shameless.
A small smile was carved on his lips, even in sleep, as if he was deep in thought, probably dreaming about us.
And that slight stubble across his jaw—faint and perfect, the kind of intimate detail you only truly notice when you are this close.
This man had truly undone me.
Ruvit Rathore—this impossibly stubborn, devastatingly patient man—had somehow broken into the deepest parts of me last night, leaving his mark in places I hadn’t even known existed.
Meanwhile me? I was a mess. He, however, called that mess a masterpiece.
And as he promised, my legs were trembling, my whole body was aching and my only concern was how to walk.
But it was worth it—more than worth it—to feel so thoroughly claimed by Ruvit.
My mind was only covered with the memories from our last night, nothing else.
I didn’t want to think about that.
I reached up, brushing a knuckle along his jaw, soft and light, a tentative touch.
My fingers lingered at his lips, barely grazing the curve.
“Wae are you so perfect?” I whispered, half to myself, a confession meant only for the quiet morning.
Just then, his lips twitched.
Then, his eyes opened, sharp and suddenly, too awake.
“Were you watching me sleep, sweetheart?” He asked, that low, husky morning voice wrapping around me like a delicious sin.
