They Don't Know about Us

Chapter 31 - Sinful Desires

Chapter 31 – Sinful Desires
⚠️🚨Mature Content Advisory🚨⚠️

The corridor was quiet when she stepped out of her room — too quiet. Muskaan had been fast asleep, sprawled on her side of the bed. The sky was still ink-blue when Riddhima slipped out of her room. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure someone would hear it. She shouldn't be doing this. She knew that.

But after everything that happened the night before — the dance, the kisses, the whispered promises — her chest felt too full. Sleep refused to touch her. Her entire body buzzed with memories of his hands, his breath, his voice.

She wanted to see him. Be with him. She padded quietly down the corridor, fingers playing with the hem of her tank. As she reached his door, her breath caught. She pushed it open carefully.

Inside, the room was dim — only a slice of moonlight through the curtains, pale and soft. The faint smell of him lingered in the air: cedar, warm skin, and something familiar she couldn't name.

Her chest fluttered. Armaan was asleep on his bare stomach, like usual. One arm tucked under his pillow. Sheets half-fallen around his waist. His bare back rising and falling slowly with each breath — muscles relaxed, hair messy, lashes resting against his skin.

The sight weakened her knees.

She stepped closer until she was at the edge of the bed. For a moment, she simply looked at him — drinking him in. The vulnerability. The exhaustion. The beauty of him in a rare, peaceful moment. Unconsciously, her feet moved towards the bed and before she knew it, she was sitting next to him.

His body shifted slightly with the movement — but he didn't wake. Her fingers hovered at first debating but then she gathered the courage and softly combed them through his hair. His soft luscious hair slips through her fingers as she combed them with her fingers.

He exhaled deeply, like he'd been waiting for that exact touch. Her touch. She smiled, small and private. ​​Her fingers trailed down, brushing the warm skin at the nape of his neck. He shivered — barely — but enough for her to feel it. Then, without meaning to, she let her nails drift in one slow line down the back of his neck. Over his shoulder. Down his spine.

Her touch was light and feather-soft. Barely there.His fingers flexed against the pillow and a breath hitched in his throat. Riddhima froze and blinked her eyes, retreating her hand back.

What the hell are you doing girl? Let him sleep. She chastised herself and finally, she stood up softly, swallowing the lump in her throat as she tried to slip away before she lost control. But the moment she took a step back—

A hand shot out. Fast. Strong. Familiar. His fingers curled around her wrist, tugging her back with effortless strength. She gasped as she stumbled onto the bed again — this time right beside him.

"Where," he murmured, voice rough with sleep, thick, still drenched in dreams, "do you think you're going?" Her heart hammered hearing his husky and hoarse voice, desire pooling into her.

She froze. He wasn't fully awake — not yet — but he was aware. His hair messy, eyes half-open, lashes heavy, voice low enough to melt her bones.

"Armaan... I— I was just—" His grip tightened at her wrist and he pulled her down gently until she was lying partly against him. "You were touching me when I was asleep," he mumbled into the pillow, voice husky, "and now you're running away? Not fair Dr. Riddhima!"

Her face burned. "I wasn't— I didn't mean—"

"You think I won't wake up?" His eyes cracked open — tired, soft, impossibly warm. "Riddhima... if you run your nails down my spine at four in the morning, what do you expect me to do? Sleep harder?" She chuckled slowing, sleep drifting away and Riddhima's cheeks flushed with embarrassment.