"I thought you hated hugs" , I voiced out as he wrapped his arms ever so gently around me.
"I still do, but hugs from you are an exception", he pulled me closer, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Intrigued, I slightly tilted my head...
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Mature Content starts
His lips were still moving against mine, a desperate, hungry rhythm.
Veer took a step forward, guiding me backward without breaking the kiss. My hands fisted in his shirt, trying to hold on to something solid as everything around me blurred. Each step we took seemed to steal the air from my lungs until my back met the coolness of the closet door.
He pressed closer, the space between us vanishing, his breath warm against my cheek as his lips trailed down to the corner of my mouth, then lower, to the edge of my jaw, my neck. I shivered, the soft scrape of his stubble setting my skin ablaze.
"Veer..." My voice came out as a whisper, half a plea, half disbelief that this was really happening.
He lifted his head, eyes dark and searching. "You have no idea," he murmured, his tone roughened by everything he wasn't saying, "how long I've wanted to do what I am going to do tonight."
The words sent a jolt through my body. Before I could answer, his mouth was on mine again, slower this time, deeper, as if he was memorizing the taste of every breath. One of his hands slid up, brushing my hair back, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw.
The scent of him filled the small space, mingling with the faint perfume that lingered on my skin. His thumb grazed my lower lip, eyes following the movement before he leaned in again, kissing me. The world outside ceased to exist. There was only his warmth.
I'm home.
The thought was a quiet hum beneath the roaring need.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. Both of us were breathing hard, caught between the need to speak and the fear of breaking the moment.
"Prisha," he said quietly, his voice low, intimate. "You drive me insane."
A soft laugh escaped me, shaky but real. "You drive me insane too."
"You are the one who started this.... " His lips curved, that familiar mix of mischief and tenderness returning. "And I'm not planning to stop."
His words hung in the air, somewhere between a challenge and a confession. My pulse tripped over itself, and before I could catch my breath, he kissed me again, not rushed this time, but deliberate, as if he was savoring every second he'd been denied.
His hands framed my face, thumbs brushing over my cheeks as he kissed me deeper, softer, slower, until I felt every heartbeat echo in the space between us.
The closet was dim, the only light slipping in through the sliver of the open door, catching on the sharp lines of his jaw, the faint sheen of sweat at his temple. He looked almost unreal in that light ... too intense, too close, too much.
