AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Because there was no way he could have Naina in his life. Not with the way he was wired and definitely not with the way she seemed to weave people into the very fabric of her life with such unconscious ease.
Which meant, this madness, this obsession with her, had to end.
Naina was sitting with her back to Ajay’s side, her legs dangling over the armrest of the sofa, in the open lounge of the main villa, while he was sketching on his pad. He was one of those people who didn’t fill every minute with unnecessary chatter and she loved seeing the sets and the costumes come to life from his clever fingers.
The huge plasma screen was playing Vikram’s second movie, in which he’d played two different roles—of father and son.
Ajay, she knew, was watching it for research. She was watching it because she was...fixated on the man. There was no avoiding the fact anymore that all she thought of was Vikram.
Of how to be that bold Naina with him again, even if it was for just a night, a day, a week. Of how to have him, for herself, just one more time.
She knew she owed him another apology. And yet, if she sought him out for such a personal discussion again, she was afraid of what she might say. Of what she might do and demand of him.
So she was avoiding him. Which was a joke since she worked so many hours each day next to him. She felt as if she was standing on the cusp of something vast and important. As if something inside of her was changing and she didn’t even know if she wanted to stop it. Or maybe it was already far too late to do so.
The younger Vikram on the screen took off his shirt and was doused with colored water in a Holi celebration. Naina sighed.
Ajay laughed, and pulled at the messy braid she’d caged her wild hair into. But his concentration was unbroken. She liked sitting by him when he sketched because he never tried to poke his nose into her thoughts. His rapidly moving fingers on the page sent vibrations up his arm and into her back. She stared at the emerging picture of Vikram—the sharp bridge of his nose, the deep-set, soulful eyes, the high forehead, and the mouth that could be languid and sexy in one breath and hard and calculating the next.
“You’ve got the lower lip all wrong,” she said, when Ajay made it too flat. Too thin. Too...cynical. “It’s much more...forgiving.” She bent down and traced her finger along that lower lip, making it wider, thicker. “You also missed the crease he gets here when he smiles. You’ve made him far too brooding, too...”
“That’s the man I see every day,” Ajay said, his tone matter-of-fact.
“That’s only one version of him. There’s so much more to him than you...”
Ajay’s fingers stilled on the paper. The sudden tension in his lanky shoulders transferred to Naina and she looked up.
Vikram stood just inside the doorway of the expansive lounge, looking down that arrogant nose of his at them. And he was angry. She didn’t know how she knew that but she did. She quickly did a run-through of all her to-do items in her head. No, she hadn’t missed anything.
Ajay turned off the television and stood up, as if he’d been caught doing something inappropriate. Naina fell onto the sofa with a soft thud. Feeling like the most ungainly creature ever, she pushed herself up and into a sitting position, her skin prickling under the intensity of Vikram’s scrutiny.
She’d never been so aware of every inch of her own skin—from the breeze kissing her bare legs, the embroidered hem of her loose shorts against her thighs, to the silk of her pink sleeveless chiffon blouse fluttering against her skin.
She felt as if he’d run those long fingers over every inch of her in that thorough way of his.
“Hello, Mr. Raawal. Did you need anything?” Ajay prompted, his spine ramrod-straight.
Naina refused to stand to attention. Refused to let him make her feel guilty. But her heart sped off anyway as she wondered just how much he’d heard her singing praises of his lower lip.
Vikram’s gaze didn’t shift to Ajay, not even for a second. “If I could borrow my assistant for a few minutes?” Politeness oozed from his every word as he held open the door.
Ajay picked up his sketch pad and pencils and disappeared under Vikram’s outstretched arm, the coward.
Naina stood up as Vikram closed the door behind Ajay and ventured in. She hated it when he looked down at her from his great height. The light brown shirt and beige-colored khakis did wonders for his broad-shouldered frame and long legs. He looked effortlessly sexy in even casual clothes.
For long moments, he just stared at her face. It made her feel anything but uncomfortable. Already, during the time they’d been here, she’d become entirely familiar with how he weighed each word before he spoke, how he studied every nuance in his audience.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything outside of your usual colorful skirts, Ms. Menon. Maybe once. Definitely once.”
Heat flared across her skin, the memory hitting her right in her lower belly. As strongly as if they were back in that darkened library, their fingers and mouths communicating for them.
She pulled the loose strap of her blouse back into place. His gaze followed her every movement, every breath until she felt like she was one giant string of tightly tuned need. One touch from him and she would burst into...ecstasy.
“It was too hot earlier. I...” Naina had no idea what was going on inside his head. “Is there something I can do for you?” she prompted, and then wished she’d worded it differently.
But he didn’t notice. There was a strange tension in his face.
“Why weren’t you at the team dinner?”
