The Bet is On (Completed☑️)

4. On His Bed

Women impure are for men impure, and men impure for women impure, and women of purity are for men of purity, and men of purity are for women of purity: these are not affected by what people say: for them there is forgiveness, and a provision honorable. (Surah an-Nur, Ayah 26)

Chapter Four

"People loose sanity at defeat and you have lost it at victory."

Arnav chuckles as he treads out of washroom. He has changed into chick dark jeans, lined maroon shirt and leather jacket from the Mehendi function dress; Kurta and tight bottoms with embroidered shoes. If he was looking a groom earlier then now he is a model of Denim.

She does not reply feeling too emotional. If he would say another word, she might run out of her patience and strangle him to the death.

"Khushi..." Wasting no time, he comes to stand in front of her – in front of his beautiful imagination – and observes her with adoration.

"Um, washroom." She looks around, implying she wants the payback of her generosity of previous day.

"Why in so hurry?" He raises his brows, flirting with her.

"No, I am in no hurry but you might be for the bachelor's party." Bitch! She curses herself to bare her emotions. Embarrassment hugs her at the imagination of him dancing at his victory of making her fall for him. Has she really fallen for him?

"Oh..."

His experience helps him to unravel the innocent jealousy inferred in her tone, words and body language. Does it not feel cute to have someone's possessive hold over you?

"Well, did we ask what you all girls do a night before yesterday at the pre-wedding bash?" Instead of calming her nerves, he throws back the question.

Her eyes brim being helpless in front of idiotic heart.

"Hmm..." She hums, tauntingly, more of clarifying her own self that she possesses no right to object his any kind of activity.

"Anyways, congrats you won." His model eyes marvel at her adorable state.

His current stare filled with love is piercing her wounded heart whereas it would had been enough to impregnate his receptionist by now.

"Thank you." She raises her head, feeling the confidence at the name of her victory. She has beaten him in dancing field at the least.

But you are the real player of hearts, Arnav.

"According to bet, the loser is here – all Yours." He notions his being from head to toe.

She is stabbed in heart by his words. How can he be hers? If he is talking about pre-wedding bash, the girls had not call men for strip tease and had liquor all night.

However, she thanks the salt lamps of his room to balm her aching head as well as her possessive hatred. This soothing balm has saved her from a mini heart attack. The people in relationships must have these lamps in their rooms.

"How?" She asks him to refine his own punishment though only death sentence is just for the player of divine emotions. He has snatched her innocence from her. Now, she would get a husband who must has loved a girl in his life. Because she believes too strong onto the Holy Quran's verses – Women impure are for men impure, and men impure for women impure, and women of purity are for men of purity, and men of purity are for women of purity.

He comes closer. His forehead's creases, darken orbs and minty breaths are intimidating her to the edge, making her vulnerable.

By his good luck, the door is closed. His thumb raises in air and moves as if caressing her lips. Despite the distance between them, she shivers upon getting a hint of his wild touch and beasty intentions to the core and jerks her head low towards right.