AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Balancing the cup in one hand and her notebook, pen, cellphone, and laptop in the other, she turned to exit the door and slammed into a hard chest.
Her cup flew from her hand, and she watched with horror as it splashed on a shirt.Hispristine white shirt was now soaked in red.
“Shit. I’m so sorry, Rohan. I didn’t see you,” she apologized. The red color was spreading all over in a huge wet stain. “My God. I’ve ruined your shirt.”
Before he could reply, she shifted closer to him. Removing something from her pocket, she wiped his chest with it.
“Do you actually carry a hanky in your pocket?” His voice was laced with amusement.
Her cheeks reddened, but she continued to dab at his completely ruined shirt. “It’s a habit ingrained since childhood by my sister, and see, it’s helping now.”
He held her hand, stopping her vigorous ministrations. “It’s not helping at all.”
She stared at his chest. “You’re right. It’s making it worse. Sorry. I’m so sorry. I should’ve…”
He squeezed her fingers, stopping her apology. She looked into his face, and what she saw there knocked the breath out of her lungs. Gone was the cold mask. In its place was raw, unfiltered desire, shocking her with its intensity. Heat spread all through her, firing up every cell and molecule in her body.
Her throat bobbed. Without thinking, she moved slightly closer to him. A rough exhale left his lips, and his hand tightened around hers. He was so close now that she could breathe in his scent. It was musk and leather. Potent. Strong. Just like him.
A bolt of lust slammed through her, surprising her. No man had made her crave like this, and this man, his mere presence, did something stupid to her insides. Moments ago, she was ready to dismiss whatever it was that she felt for him. She’d even convinced herself that he didn’t feel a thing for her. But now, standing here, his hot gaze scorching her bones, his fingers curling around her hand as they pressed into his chest—she knew at this moment that he, too, was feeling whatever it was that she was feeling.
Her heart rate sped with the knowledge.
She licked her lower lip, and his eyes latched on the movement. The world around them had long since disappeared, and it felt like she was trapped in a bubble with him. Only him. Formality be damned. Something was shifting between them, changing the variables of their equation. Something neither of them was able to stop and something he definitely couldn’t reject anymore.
All of a sudden, he released her hand, stepping back from her.
Jiya blinked as if coming out of a trance. She opened her mouth to say something, but he stopped her with his hand.
“Don’t bother. I have another shirt in my office.”
He swivelled, and she asked, “Why did you return? Did you want something from me?”
He gave her a sideways glance. “I really shouldn’t want anything from you…at all.”
Her mouth fell open as she watched him leave her…again. His softly spoken words echoed in her brain.
She ran a shaky hand through her hair, feeling completely out of sorts. Her heart felt like it was ready to burst open. Her mind was a mess and her skin tingled. The effect this man had on her was insane, and with each meeting, this effect seemed to only multiply. A thrill shot up her spine. If the last minutes were any proof, then her previous conclusion had been wrong. Rohan Bali was most definitely interested in her. Now it was up to her on what to do next.
Her phone beeped with a text. It was Raashi.
“I hope you’re doing okay. And I hope you’re going to be sensible about everything.”
She smiled, reading her sister’s message, the first one in a week. Her sister’s concern was valid. Jiya was not known to be sensible. She was reckless and wild.
And her wild side was urging her to seek Rohan out and find out why he’d returned to the conference room again and why he’d said those words to her.
7
Rohan stood in front of the mirror in his office ensuite, staring at the huge stain on his shirt and thinking about the woman who’d put it there. The same woman who drank fresh juices on a daily basis. He knew this because he’d been paying attention to her. In the past week, each time he’d spotted her, she’d had a glass of a different juice in her hands. And now, one such juice was all over him, sticking to his skin. His white shirt was blotted with red—similar to the red that colored the tips of her hair.
He curled his hand in a fist and realized he was holding her hanky. Bloody hell. He didn’t even remember taking it from her. He stared at the square piece of cotton. It was pink with little red hearts on it. He blinked.
This was further confirmation of how different the two of them were. Jiya believed in love and happy endings, while he didn’t even do relationships. He raked a hand through his hair. He was such a fool to be yearning for her when they were as different as chalk and cheese. He dropped the hanky on the vanity.
Unbuttoning his shirt, he tossed it to the side. He never should have returned to the conference room to talk to her. But he’d seen her hurt expression after his cold dismissal, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from checking on her. That was the wrong thing to do. He should’ve stayed far away from her and her tantalizing allure.
Had he done so, he never would have known how her soft body fit against his hard one, how tiny her hand felt in his, or how she trembled against him. But he hadn’t stayed away, and now he knew all he ought not to know abouther…ever.
