His other hand moved from her face to her waist, drawing her closer until there was no space between them. Until she could feel the solid warmth of him against her entire body. Until the world narrowed to just this, his arms, his heat, the gentle pressure of his lips against her skin.
"Show them what you're made of," he whispered, and the roughness in his voice made something flutter low in her stomach.
For a moment, she stood frozen. Every nerve ending aware of exactly where his body touched hers. Where his fingers pressed into her waist. Where his breath ghosted across her temple. The overwhelming need to stay exactly where she was clashed with the practical knowledge that she had to leave.
Then, giving in to instinct, she let her hands slide up his chest. Slowly. Feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palms. Feeling the way his breath caught when she touched him.
She rested her forehead against his shoulder, breathing him in. Sandalwood and something warmer, more him. Let herself sink into this, the solid strength of his arms, the certainty radiating from him, the way he held her like she was precious.
His embrace tightened. One hand still cradled her neck while the other splayed across her lower back. She could feel the warmth of his palm against her skin through the cloth.
He bent his head, his cheek resting against her hair. "You've got this," he said quietly, just for her. His lips brushed the top of her head. "I know you do."
She made a sound. Not quite agreement. Not quite surrender. Just a soft exhale that might have been his name.
His arms tightened further in response, pulling her impossibly closer. Like he was trying to imprint the feel of her against him. Like letting go took every ounce of willpower he possessed.
For a few moments, neither moved. Just stood there, wrapped around each other, the rest of the world forgotten.
Finally, reluctantly, she pulled back. Just enough to look up at him.
The expression on his face made her breath catch. His eyes had gone dark, intense in a way that made heat bloom across herskin. His thumb traced her jawline, slow and deliberate, the touch sending sparks of awareness through her entire body.
"I should go," she managed, voice barely above a whisper.
"You should." But his hand didn't leave her face. His thumb brushed across her lower lip, soft, possessive, the barest hint of pressure that made her lips part involuntarily.
His eyes tracked the movement. Something flashed in them, hunger, restrained but visible.
"Before you're late," he added, voice rough and low.
Still, he didn't step back. Didn't release her. Just stood there, hand cupping her face, thumb resting against her lip, looking at her like he wanted to devour her and protect her in equal measure.
It was Divya who finally found the strength to step away. To put necessary distance between them before she forgot entirely why leaving mattered.
Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips tingled where he'd touched them. Her entire body felt overheated, hypersensitive, acutely aware of every place he'd held her.
"Go," he said again, dropping his hand. But his eyes never left hers, and the hunger in them hadn't diminished. "Before I give you a reason to be late."
The implication in those words made her stomach flip.
She turned on unsteady legs. Walked to the car feeling his gaze on her like a physical touch. Slid into the backseat, heart racing, skin still tingling.
When she looked back, he stood in the doorway. Hands shoved in his pockets like he didn't trust himself not to reach forher again. Watching her with an expression that promised this wasn't over.
The car pulled away.
She pressed her fingers to her lips, feeling the ghost of his touch there. The warmth of his hands still imprinted on her skin. The memory of his body against hers making it hard to think about anything else.
Whatever happened in that examination room, she thought distantly, she'd carry this with her. This moment. This certainty.
This overwhelming, terrifying awareness that their marriage had become something else entirely. Something that made her heart race and her skin flush and her body ache with wanting.
Vikram watched the car disappear around the corner, that familiar twist in his chest. Pride. Possessiveness. Something deeper he'd stopped fighting.
She'd come home tonight with flying colours. He knew she would.
He was already planning how he'd celebrate with her. How he'd make her smile that radiant smile he'd come to crave.
