Love, par sex ke baad (Love, but after sex)

Chapter 25

Friday evening arrived in a blur, and everyone was waiting for me to get ready. Salil literally shouted at me, reminding me that I wasn't getting married again and needed to get a move on. I giggled in response. Technically, I hadn't taken that long to get ready. I just got back home later than I anticipated.

Once I was ready, I called Salil, "hi, can you come into the bedroom for a second?"

"Absolutely not," he replied.

"Why?" I groaned on the phone.

"Because we are getting late, just come out already," he snapped and cut the call.

Oh well, I was calling him for his benefit. I didn't want him to see me in this exotic sari for the first time in front of people. I knew his eyes would betray his feelings of wanting to tear it off me, of wanting to unwrap me like a gift and devour me. I made my way to the living room, where everyone was waiting.

"FINALLY," Sahil said, "Let's go!" I ignored him and smirked at Salil. His reaction was everything I had anticipated. His knuckles were white from clenching his fist around the car keys, his pupils were dilated, and his lips were pursed into a thin line. We all quietly walked to the car and drove to my parents' house.

I was surprised to see the number of cars outside the house. "Wow, so much for a quiet dinner with the family," I murmured.

"You aren't exactly dressed for a quiet dinner either," Salil said, not so quietly, making me blush.

We walked to the house and greeted my parents. It was lovely seeing my dad after almost three weeks. My mother had taken the liberty to invite anyone and everyone, and I was swept away from Salil to meet cousins and relatives I hadn't seen since my wedding.

After an hour of kissing, hugging, and lame conversations, I was finally standing next to Salil. He looked incredible in the black kurta pajama. His eyes were set on my push up blouse and the valley of my breasts, traveling down to my bare midriff. His hand seemed to automatically move to my hip to feel my bare skin against his hand. My skin heated at his touch, and I buckled away from him. I could feel the intensity of his gaze through every nerve ending in my body, so when someone whispered hello in my ear, I visibly jumped, and my hand flew to my heart.

"Karan," I exclaimed, looking at the grinning man in front of me. He looked ever so handsome in the white and red Patiala salwar and kurta. "What are you doing here?" I was astonished to see my ex-boyfriend at my parents' house.

"Your dad called me," he said, smirking. I knew dad and Karan worked together sometimes, but it was still odd seeing him at a family event. Everyone knew we had dated and now I was married to someone else. I worked with Karan still, too, but I couldn't remember mentioning it to Salil ever. I shuffled and turned to Salil "this is Karan, Karan, this is Salil." Both men shook hands. Karan was grinning, but Salil wasn't. His other hand had instinctively moved towards me and pulled me in. Karan smirked at me; he was always good at noticing small actions.

The good thing about Karan and I was that we were immensely confident about each other. He had never displayed an ounce of jealously no matter who I talked to, danced with, etc. He was always supremely confident that I would come back to him. Even after our separation, he and I maintained a sort of friendship that would not be understood by many. It was the kind of interdependent relationship that transcended the boundaries of a mere relationship between a boy and a girl.

Despite being almost four inches shorter than Salil, Karan's immense good looks seemed to give him an aura of confidence most men did not possess. He also enjoyed teasing other people, so he pulled my hand towards him and told Salil that he would steal me for a dance. I made the mistake of glancing at Salil before walking away with Karan; his eyes raged with anger. If Karan wasn't, well, Karan, he would have cowered under Salil's gaze, but Karan was enjoying himself quite a lot.

"Stop smirking," I murmured to him as we swayed on the dance floor.

"I wonder what he thinks of my hands all over you," he asked, pulling me closer to him. I didn't feel the spark I used to, the spark I now do with Salil.

I giggled, "I have a feeling that sex tonight is going to be awesome."

He threw his head back and laughed, "you haven't changed one bit." I stole a quick glance at Salil; sure enough, he had no idea that someone was talking to him. He was staring directly at us.

"I am surprised by how well you are dealing with a jealous husband," he said. His voice had changed. There was a note of old-time love in it. I caressed his cheek and said, "He loves me."

"And you?" he asked, swallowing.

"Are you finally jealous?" I asked, smirking. His eyes had turned sad "no love, I'll never be jealous, that's not us. I just wish things could be different". He pulled me close and wrapped both his arms around me. I rested my head on his shoulder, and we swayed to the music. "I am happy, Karan. I don't want different things," I said. I felt him nod at the top of my head.

The song ended, and in a few hours, so did the party. I didn't really get a chance to talk to Salil for the rest of the party. My cousins couldn't stop asking me questions about married life.

On the way back, Aaliya asked, "bhabhi, who was that really handsome guy you were dancing with?"

I saw Salil's knuckles tighten on the steering wheel and grinned. He was so cute when he was jealous. "His name is Karan," I told Aaliya.

"I think he was the best looking guy at the party," Aaliya chimed.

"AALIYA!" dad raised his voice.

"WHAT? He was," she exclaimed. I giggled at her response. Salil glared at me, and I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing.