Her fingers tightened around the glass again. It did not help. Nothing did.
He took it from her hands. Raised it to his lips. Set it aside without swallowing.
Before she could understand, his hand slipped into her hair, tilting her face. His mouth found hers. Warm. Unhurried. The milk passed between them, drawn from his mouth into hers, and the world narrowed to breath and this moment.
Her hands hovered, unsure. Then they found him. His shoulders first. Her fingers pressed in, and then, they moved… down, over his chest. Heat. Strength. Muscle shifting under her touch.
She stilled. He did not. But something in him changed. His breath changed. The kiss changed, stronger now.
Her fingers tightened, tracing without thought, feeling him.
He pulled back just enough to look at her. His eyes had darkened.
“You will need more strength than I will tonight.”
His gaze dropped to her chest, then returned to her face, darker now, intent settling deep. “That is mine.” His thumb traced her jaw. “You. This. All of it.”
Any answer she might have formed vanished before reaching her lips.
His hands rose to her veil first. He removed each pin with care. The fabric slipped free, falling at her feet.
His fingers found her waist.
Her knees weakened.
He watched her unravel as he loosened the clasp of her lehenga. The deep red silk loosened and fell, pooling around her ankles.
She did not move. She could not.
His eyes dipped once, then returned to her. His hands came to her waist and he set her on the edge of the table in one smooth motion.
She gasped. He steadied her, stepping between her knees until there was no space left. He was too close, close enough that if she moved just a little, she would feel him against her.
His hands moved over her legs, rising, claiming every inch.
Her eyes closed. Her fingers tightened against him as sensation rushed through her, too much, too fast.
He watched every change in her. Every breath, every reaction. His touch did not stop, drawing a slow arch from her body.
The maang tikka came away next. “I watched you walk toward me.” His voice dropped, pulled tight. “I could not look anywhere else.”
Her eyes opened, heavy, hooded.
The earrings followed. “I tried.” A faint smile touched his mouth. “It failed.”
The choker came next. He freed it, then leaned in, his mouth pressing to the mark it had left.
Her head fell back, her chest brushing his.
His hands moved to her back, undoing the ties, faster now, patience giving way to something deeper, darker.
“The whole evening,” he murmured near her pulse, “I kept thinking about this.”
One knot loosened.
“About being here.”
Another.
