"You want to run away kitten, tell me you wanted to get away from me " he asked calm in dangerous voice. "N..no P..please l..I am sorry" she begged joining her hands. She was scared seeing his ragefull eyes, she curled and dig her face between in her knees. He grabbed that girl's leg and pulled her towards him. She scream, her eyes widened seeing the hot iron rod in his hand. Her heart trembling. "I will never do this please leave me please forgive me this time..... Ahhhhhhhhh.......

"Aap... yahan?" He stopped just inches away. Too close. Their breaths tangled. Her heart pounded in her ears. " Akhirkar 6 mahine ki aankh micholi ke baad aap samne he mere..." "Pahli mulakat yaadgar honi chahiye na jaan... (leaning in, lips almost touching hers) please don't stop me..." The first brush of his lips against hers was gentle, almost too gentle for the intensity between them. But the moment he felt the warmth of her lips, the floodgates opened. The kiss deepened - demanding, possessive, and yet tender, as though he was trying to memorize every sensation. Once he finds her breathless, he left her lips with a pop sound and move little away just to see her now ruined lipstick and flushed cheeks... "Roshni...Tum meri ho..." "Rudra... I..." "Don't say anything jaan. I will take care of everything from here onwards..Just feel this...feel me..feel us" RUDRA JAIN: 26, Ruthless, reclusive, untouchable, mysterious, CEO,Dominant. Brilliant mind, calculated tone, controlled body language. Only lets his guard down when no one's watching... except Roshni. Roshni is his hell,his heaven and his everything in between ROSHNI GUPTA, 23, Soft. Warm. Hopeful, Aspiring Jewellery designer,Kind-hearted, curious, intuitive Never afraid to speak her mind, but hates conflict 🚦Never imagined that one stolen glance at a red light and one humble order from her could start a fire she couldn't control. And once they met: 👀Glances that burn. He watches her like she's a sin he wants to commit over and over again. Her gaze? A challenge. A dare. Not every argument ends in silence. Some end with her pinned against a wall, his breath on her neck, the storm outside matching the one inside them. Soft apologies tangled in sheets and bare skin. 🫱 Hands that wander. Not by accident. Not hesitant anymore. craving, claiming, consuming. ☕ Coffee cups with lipstick stains and Coffee growing cold while their bodies stay warm

The midnight wind howled through the corridors of Rathore Haveli as I ran-barefoot, my bridal dupatta trailing behind me like a wounded bird. My heart pounded louder than the temple bells in the distance. "Stop her! She's running away!" A distant voice roared, but I didn't turn back. The courtyard was deserted, the marble floor cold beneath my feet. A carriage stood waiting at the gates, my one chance at freedom. I gripped my lehenga and surged forward-when strong hands seized my wrist. Rudransh. His grip was firm, his breath uneven. His eyes-once filled with indifference-now burned with something else. Something dangerous. "You're running from me?" His voice was a low growl. Tears blurred my vision. "You never wanted this marriage, Rudransh! So let me go!" His jaw tightened. "Maybe I didn't. But I'll be damned if I let the world say Rudransh Pratap Singh's bride ran away on our wedding night." The challenge in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. My escape plan was shattered, and in that moment, I realized... so was my heart. _________________________________________________________________________________ "RUDVIKA: Bound by Fate" is a heartfelt historical romance set in 1980s Rajasthan, where love and tradition collide. Rudransh Pratap Singh, a rebellious young man, and Shivika Rathore, a woman of grace and conviction, are bound by an arranged childhood marriage. While Rudransh resists the shackles of duty, Shivika embraces fate with quiet strength. As misunderstandings, pride, and family expectations test their bond, will love find its way into their hearts? A tale of love, pain, and self-discovery, where destiny weaves its own story.

Rudraansh Singh Shekhawat ☆ She is so pure. A devastatingly handsome, 6'5", Rudraansh Singh Shekhawat isn't just a politician; he's a king who rules his dark world with an iron fist. His ruthless, brooding presence and piercing gaze make empires tremble. He lived his life in cold, calculated control, far from the messiness of emotions, until she stumbled into his line of fire. And now that this possessive lion has set his sights on her, he'll burn the world to make her his. Niyati Sharma ☆ I was just living my life... and then I saw a murder. A 5'7" kindergarten teacher, Niyati Sharma is all soft, clumsy innocence and gentle routines. She's the sunshine, completely unprepared for the storm that's about to consume her. After accidentally witnessing a crime she shouldn't have, her simple, safe life is shattered by the most dangerous man she's ever met. She's terrified of the monster... but she's also the only one who's seen the man underneath. With a dangerously obsessive man like him and a terrified, innocent woman like her, their story is a dark, thrilling, and addictive ride. Want to know what happens when a monster decides he wants a saint? Come join us.

Ira Verma never imagined her new job would land her inside the cold, echoing walls of the Rathore estate-a mansion guarded by silence, secrets, and the brooding presence of the man she's been hired to care for. Devraj Singh Rathore, heir to one of the most powerful families in India, is feared by many and understood by none. Bound to a wheelchair after a brutal attack, he shows no emotion, no warmth... and certainly no interest in the woman tending to him. At least, that's what Ira believes. What she doesn't know is that behind his still gaze lies a storm-dark, obsessive, and dangerously fixated on her. He watches when she's not looking, collects pieces of her she never gave, and burns with jealousy every time his younger brother dares to flirt with her. But Ira has a life outside this mansion. A fiancé her family chose. A future she thought she wanted. Devraj is done pretending. And when obsession begins to crack through restraint, Ira must face a chilling truth: You can only run so far... when the one who craves you is already inside your world.

______scene______ I know I'm strong enough to handle it, to carry her, to... ride her on..... well, you know what I mean _______scene_______ Baby, tell me what you want," I say softly, stroking her hair. "I want you... fully. You know what I mean," she whispers, her voice ________scence _______ She's washing her saree, her delicate fingers scrubbing the fabric with quiet focus. I should turn away, but my gaze is locked on her. She dips the saree into a tub of clean water, squeezing out the excess before draping it over a rope to dry. The movement is simple, yet mesmerizing. As she walks inside, I slowly approach the tub. The water she used to rinse her saree is still there. Without thinking, I lift the tub and spill all the water over myself. ____________

It should've ended with distance. A silence. A closed door. But instead, it began here-pressed against a balcony wall, with her breath caught between fear and temptation, and his eyes burning with something far more dangerous than lust. He didn't touch her. Not yet. But the threat of it lingered in the space between their bodies, in the way his chest nearly brushed hers every time he exhaled. She could feel the tension rippling off him, barely contained-like a storm pacing behind his ribcage, just waiting to destroy. "You shouldn't be here," he said, voice rough, low, and shaking with restraint. But he was the one who had cornered her. He was the one who couldn't stay away. And she? She hated how much she didn't want to run. Because this-whatever this was-felt like standing on the edge of something irreversible. "You're my employee," he snapped. As if the label could cage what was already unravelling inside him. "You're a mistake I keep choosing." Her eyes met his-furious, pained, exposed. "I never asked you to," she said, but her voice cracked around the lie. His hand lifted slowly, brushing the side of her jaw with a touch that contradicted everything his words said. Possessive. Tender. He stared at her like she was the very thing he was never meant to want-and the only thing he couldn't stop needing. "I've spent years building walls to stay in control," he muttered, his thumb grazing her lower lip. "You walk in and wreck all of it... without even trying." She swallowed hard. This wasn't love. This wasn't even hate. This was obsession-raw, electric, and utterly doomed. And as his lips hovered over hers, trembling with the weight of a thousand wrong intentions, they both knew- 🥀It started with a look. It spiraled with a touch. And before they could stop it, they were already each other's greatest undoing.

I cradled him tenderly against my chest, his tears falling into the gentle folds of my kurta's neckline. "Nayan," I whispered. He only tightened his grasp on my waist, his silence speaking volumes. The thought of revealing my knowledge of his love, the woman who had long held my husband's heart, felt suffocating. But I remained silent, savoring the warmth of our first tender touch, our first embrace, as I held him to his vulnerability.

The story set in 1980's Indian Love story of anita kaashi who belong to poor family as anita's mother work in Royal haveli of singh's raghuveer singh belong to royal family current king who rule all over the country Read to find their love story * pictures are not mine they are from google *