Reunion

Chapter one

Ranveer had been good. He'd behaved well all evening, mingling with people, giving interviews like he actually cared about the questions being asked, even paying attention to the performances. He'd successfully pretended all night that he could think about something other than Deepika, but then she had to go and declare on stage, in front of the whole world, that her heart belonged to him, and he was done.

He thanked fate and the gods and whoever had organised this show for putting her performance just before the final awards, because he didn't know how much longer he could wait. The hour seemed to stretch and stretch, and yes, he was immensely pleased about his award and the film's award, but really, more than half his mind was on the incredible woman who'd just reached for his hand in front of all these people. All he wanted was to get her alone and show her just how much her actions meant to him. They'd been apart for two whole months before this, shooting on different continents. He'd counted the minutes to seeing her these last two weeks and they'd yet to properly kiss. It was utterly unfair.

The show ended and they were surrounded by people congratulating them one minute and the next her assistant was pulling her away for interviews. He watched her go out of the corner of his eyes and felt like his heart was being torn in two, but couldn't immediately follow her because the man talking to him was still telling him something. He extricated himself from the conversation as quickly as he could and went after her. He knew it was bad form to interrupt someone's interview but he couldn't spend another minute without her. So he knocked on the door of the room and the smile on her face told him that she'd felt his absence as much as he'd felt hers, even if she was less demonstrative about it.

The interviewers had already started asking Deepika questions so he let them continue, focusing all his attention on her. She looked breathtaking. Like a goddess in that stunning cape and tight skirt. Her lips were covered in some kind of subtle glossy lipstick that made them look as though she'd just been kissed. Her eyes, darkened by dramatic black shadow, looked fathomless and he wanted to drown in them. Her hair was pinned into a tight bun that just begged for his hands to pull it apart. The cut of her blouse showed off the soft inner swells of her breasts and all he wanted was to suck them into his mouth.

She was a little sweaty from dancing and it only deepened her natural scent, filling his mind with memories of times she'd smelled like that after a couple of hours in bed with him. And that one time in the gym, fuck, the sweat dripping down her neck into the valley between her breasts and all the way down to pool in her navel, the way she'd tasted, salty and tangy and sweet all at once-

He was shaken out of his reverie by a reporter calling his name and asking him what he saw when he looked at Deepika. He saw the faint blush on her cheeks at the question and tried to cover up his blatant staring by saying he was transfixed by her words, which was much better than saying that all he could think about was taking her hard and sweaty up against a wall. He tried to curb his thoughts after that, he really did, but she was so close, and so lovely, and he hadn't been able to touch her, really touch her, in so long, and she'd pretty much declared to the whole world that she loved him, and god when would this interminable interview end?

She, ever gracious, thanked the assembled journalists and he did his best, having to force a bit of his cheer and good humour today. As long as she didn't leave his side he'd bear it. After another long hour of talking to people he couldn't care less about, he'd had enough. "Five more minutes," he whispered in her ear. "Please, baby, I can't take this any more. Five more minutes and I'm going to be kissing you no matter where we are," he told her and saw her swallow hard.

As it turned out, it took them ten to leave the crush of people and get into the limousine and out of the event venue. He glanced at the partition between the driver's seat and the back of the car once to ensure it was shut before hauling her into his arms and at last, at long last, capturing her lips with his. She pressed herself closer, digging her hands into his hair and moaning into his mouth.

"Fuck, fuck baby, I want you so bad," he whispered against her lips as she yanked on his bow tie.

"Stop talking," she murmured, biting and sucking on his lips as she used both hands to undo the buttons on his coat and shirt.

His hands were frantic on her bare waist and back seeking a way to undo the top she was wearing. He let out a frustrated groan when he couldn't find the clasp, then bent his head and bit the flesh exposed by the deep vee of the blouse. She cried out and flung her head back. He bent her over one arm and with the fingers of the other managed to push the top aside just enough to expose a sliver of the dark areola on her right breast. She whimpered when he licked the puckered skin.

The car stopped and they realised they were at the hotel. Her clothes were a mess, the blouse askew and the cape twisted and crumpled. His were little better, a couple of buttons missing and his tie hanging lop-sided. His hair was utterly disheveled though hers was still remarkably intact. Both were breathing hard, their lips swollen, and she had a distinctly visible bite mark on the curve of her left breast. It was obvious what they'd been doing and walking through the brightly lit lobby of the hotel would likely cause a scandal.

Ranveer tapped on the partition. "Yes sir?" the driver asked on the intercom. "Could you drive around to the basement parking or the back elevator please?" he asked. "Of course, sir," the driver said, used to celebrities making such requests. They used the short time to make themselves somewhat more presentable. Ranveer shrugged off his jacket and draped it around Deepika's shoulders, hiding the mark on her breast and the lines in her cape, though a single glance at them would still be enough for anyone to see that things had gotten heated on the way here. He tugged off his tie and abandoned his hair as a lost cause.

The driver pulled up to the elevator and Ranveer got out of the car to open Deepika's door for her. He shielded her as much as he could from the view of the porter at the elevator doors. She was looking deliciously disheveled and devastatingly beautiful and he was in no mood to share. He thanked the driver and ushered her into the elevator ahead of him. She had a suite on the tenth floor. He had a room, too, but they both knew he wouldn't be using it so he'd booked one of the smaller, less expensive ones on the same floor to keep up appearances.

They picked opposite corners of the elevator, clinging to the rails, afraid that if they didn't they'd end up attacking each other right there. Their heated gazes held a challenge - who would break first? A storm of sensual energy built up in the enclosed space. By the time the elevator reached the tenth floor they were both shaking with suppressed need.