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“Leaving the room won’t change the fate of your father’s political career, Meher. It’s already doomed.” Ayaan mocks.
Anger flares, and I turn to face him again.
“There’s nothing you can do. I’ve already taken measures to ensure the success of our plans this time,” I snap back. “And if you believe that constantly reminding me that you’re responsible for undermining my father’s efforts in building this empire will intimidate me, then you’re sadly mistaken, Ayaan Shergill. I no longer care. Accept that.”
I keep venting my frustration, but Ayaan remains indifferent. He sits lazily on the bed, his back resting against the headrest as he reaches for a pack of cigarettes from the nightstand. With a nonchalant shrug, he takes a cigarette between his fingers and brings it to his lips. What the hell! I glare at him with a mix of concern and annoyance. Seriously, Ayaan is planning to smoke right now? He knows how much I hate it, yet he is doing this deliberately.
Ayaan raises an eyebrow, a hint of rebellion in his expression as he lights the cigarette and takes a deep puff. My frustration grows with every whiff. I reach out, lean over him and snatch the cigarette from his fingers, stubbing it out forcefully in the nearby ashtray.
“You don’t need to smoke for a momentary relief to calm your nerves,” I snap. “It will harm you in the long run, Ayaan. And most importantly, I hate it. It’s either cigarette or me. You can’t pick both.”
“Feisty, aren’t we?” Ayaan grins, loving my attention and probably even overwhelmed by my concern for him, even amid my annoyance.
The next second he pulls me by my nape for a passionate kiss.
“Always you,” Ayaan murmurs in between the kiss. “Only you,” he says, sucking on my lips before plunging his tongue into my mouth.
I taste the remnants of the cigarette on his lips, driving me to push him away with dislike. But I’m still in his arms. Ayaan grins, realising why I didn’t like him kissing me at this moment. He reaches out to caress my cheek.
“I was just diverting you from your father’s thoughts to mine. I wanted to see if you still truly care for me,” he winks.
I care! Of course, I care for him.But I won’t let it get into his head.
Pushing him away gently, I untangle myself from his embrace and sit on the bed. Ayaan’s displeasure is evident in his eyes, but I need space to gather my thoughts.
I make my way to the bathroom, my mind racing with conflicting thoughts.
Last night was a blur of passion and surrender, but now I can’t help but question my choices. Choosing to spend the night with Ayaan, the one who is actively working to dismantle my father’s dreams, fills me with guilt and embarrassment.
As the water cascades over me, I let the droplets wash away the physical remnants of the night, but the emotional residue lingers. I feel torn between my desires for Ayaan and the expectations placed upon me towards my family.
Leaving him alone on the bed, letting him wake up to an empty space, isn’t a new experience for either of us. I recall how, in Dalhousie, I had vanished without a proper goodbye. I had left for Mumbai without even him knowing why and when!
I’d thought the distance between us after the Dalhousie incident would have taught me a lesson to never give in to my desires, but last night was a clear failure. Even now, Ayaan’s presence, his touch, and his allure captivate me in ways I can’t fully comprehend. Guilt consumes me, reminding me of the obligations I’ve neglected. Ironically, our connection has always been beyond the complexities of politics and our family enmity.
Drying myself, I wear his huge white Turkish bathrobe and open the bathroom door, only to find him leaning at the doorframe in a similar robe as if waiting for me. With his arms on either side of the doorframe, there is no room for me to walk out. The space between us is filled with a charged silence, our unspoken desires lingering in the air again. Ayaan touches my wet hair strand, rubbing it gently between his fingers as if loving the feel of them, and that’s when I see it back in his eyes.The need to have me again.I subconsciously lean into his touch, forgetting all that guilt and obligations I was thinking about during my shower.What is he doing to me that I can’t think straight, even in the daylight?Without delay, Ayaan steps inside the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind him. With every stride he takes, I retreat, my back gradually meeting the solid marble surface adjacent to the mirror. Ayaan lifts me by my waist effortlessly, making me sit on the marble top before spreading my legs and positioning himself comfortably between them.
I’m lost in Ayaan’s dark and hungry eyes, his need calling out to me. Blood rushes to my core, and I want him again too. He lowers his lips to mine, and I kiss him back.Gently. Softly. Within seconds, his mouth is everywhere, on my face, neck and lower, while his fingers unfasten the knot of my robe, letting it fall off my shoulders. Ayaan then strips off his robe and pulls me ahead to the edge of the marble counter before donning the protection and wrapping my legs around his waist. He enters me in one fluid move. I take a deep, relaxing breath to slow down my heart rate. His strokes match my moans, and it doesn’t take much for him to push me over the edge again, begging him for my release. But unlike last night, this time, we are making slow love. The toe-curling kind, the kind you would remember even when you are seconds away from touching death. I think I even screamed his name aloud somewhere during the act when he was deep inside me. We keep moving in rhythm, our bodies slapping against each other, my moans turning louder with each second. Ayaan bites my shoulder hard, grunting in pleasure minutes later. By the time he finds his own release, I realise there is no antidote for our feelings for each other. We can fight as much as we want over the sides we have chosen, but at the end of the day, we’ll still crave each other. Madly!
As quickly as the passion ignited, reality came crashing again with the sharp ringing of my phone in the bedroom. As we pull away, we struggle to catch our breath and wonder why we still crave each other so strongly, so much so that we can’t seem to control ourselves. My phone keeps ringing outside, so I move Ayaan a little, put on my bathrobe and walk out to answer the call. My heart skips a beat on seeing the name on the caller ID -Asha Devi.
I’m still in Ayaan’s room, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to answer the phone call here. I ignore the incessant ringing of the phone, deciding to call back Asha Devi once I am in my room.
“Pick up the call, Meher,” Ayaan’s voice jolts me from behind. He is standing two feet away, sporting a wicked grin.
“I know what I need to do,” I retort, looking for the remnants of my nightdress that Ayaan tore last night. Not that it is of any use to me, but I don’t want to leave it here in his bedroom.
“It’s rude to ignore the call of a renowned politician like Asha Devi,” Ayaan mocks.
I pause my search and turn around, confused and nervous.
“How do you know it was her call?” I ask, glaring at him.
Ayaan grins, and I can feel something big happening that I’m unaware of.
“Not just that, I also know what she is going to tell you,” he adds. “Speak to her.”
My heart flutters in anticipation. What is Ayaan talking about? What does he know that I don’t? Did he manage to thwart my plans already? Not wanting my curiosity to mount, I call Asha Devi to clear my confusion. I don’t care if I have to speak to her in his presence. If he knows why Asha Devi wanted to talk to me, it’s game over. I have lost this battle already. Yet, keeping my fingers crossed, I wait for her to answer my call.
