So, here we are, the promised second half of the update for this week, and the last for two weeks. I really, really hope that this will be a fitting parting shot before my hiatus. I won't waste much more time babbling, just wanna thank you all again from the bottom of my heart for your comments and your love and support. 🤗 This ff would not be reaching it's 14th part if it weren't for you guys. I will do everything in my power to update as soon as I can after the two weeks hiatus. Believe me, it's gonna be tough staying away from the ff for me too. I have so much of Armaan and Shilpa's journey left to share with you and I can't wait to reveal the next chapter. But, for now, hope you enjoy this one. Please ignore any errors or mistakes. And as ever your likes/comments/criticisms are much valued and appreciated.
Chapter 14
The
next morning Armaan lurched into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and yawning
loudly. It was early and he didn't think anyone would be up. Muskaan was known
for being a late riser and he guessed Rahul would be in no hurry to leave his
wife's arms as today was a holiday. He hadn't bothered to change out of the
ratty old sweatpants or the holey t-shirt he'd slept in and his hair was
sticking up all over the place. So when he saw the figure standing over by the
sink he was more than a little embarrassed.
"Armaan?" Shilpa asked, glancing up
as he came through the door. Her eyes were slightly round and there was a faint
glimmer of astonishment in them. Or maybe that was just the wintry sunlight
filtering in the window to her right, casting a reflection in her eyes.
He paused just inside the doorway,
his heart beating faster than it should have been. With the sun framing her in
that faint golden glow she looked more like an angel than ever before and it
was impossible not to stare at her. She was dressed in the same clothes as
yesterday – the black leggings and red tunic with the white belt around the
middle, accentuating her slender waist – but she looked as fresh as if she had
just stepped out the shower. Her ebony tresses were flowing loosely about her
face as usual, the sun teasing out all the coppery undertones in the, heightening
the halo-like aura about her head. She stood still, half-turned towards him,
and her posture was so poised and elegant he wished he had his drawing pad with
him so he could sketch her.
"I was hungry so I came to see if I
could find some breakfast," she said, anxious to fill up the silence. There was
something odd about the way he was staring at her, an intensity in his eyes
that was making her pulse skip, and she desperately wanted to distract herself
from it. "Muskaan won't mind, will she?"
"Uh, no, no I don't think she will,"
he answered, shaking himself out of his trance. He wandered over to the
cupboard and pulled a box of cereal out, placing it on the counter next to her.
"My sister's a bit of a health nut, so the food's always questionable around here,"
he told her as he started rummaging in the cutlery drawer. He kept his eyes on
his hands, not daring to look at her. "But that should hopefully be edible."
"Thanks," she said, taking the spoon
he offered her. He turned to the fridge to get the milk and she tried to focus
her eyes on something other than the strong muscles she could glimpse under his
faded white t-shirt. There was a hole on the left, exposing the top of his
chest and her eyes were drawn to that glimpse of taut, tanned skin as if it were
a magnet.
"Shilpa?" His questioning voice made
her start and she lifted her eyes to his face to find him regarding her with
one arched brow and a puzzled expression.
"Huh?" she answered dimly.
"Milk." His brow rose a fraction and
he waved the bottle he was holding out to her in his hand.
"Oh!" Her heart lurched, her cheeks
going hot as she took the bottle from him. "Right. Thanks."
Idiot,
she cursed herself, turning her back to him and busying herself with the cereal
so he couldn't see the scarlet hue working its way across her face.
"Here, let me take that," he said as
she attempted to carry her bowl to the table while leaning on her crutch. He
swept the bowl out of her hands and placed it on the table, before pulling out
a seat for her. She smiled shyly at him as she sat down, wishing her heart
wouldn't dance about with such exultation. He's just being nice, she reminded
herself sternly.
He poured himself some cereal of his
own and took the seat opposite from her. They ate in silence for a while,
neither quite sure what to say. Both of them kept thinking back to the night
before and that moment in the living room. It had nerves skittering about both
their stomachs and neither particularly enjoyed their cereal.
"I...," they said simultaneously.
Their heads snapped up, eyes locking, wide and surprised. And then they both
laughed, and just like that all the awkwardness evaporated.
"What were you going to say?" she
asked him.
"Oh, I was just gonna say that I'm
planning on heading back to the apartment after this, to pick up some stuff.
Muskaan wants us to stay for the next two days, so I figured we'd want clean
clothes. Is there anything you'd like me to get for you?"
"Actually, there is." She cast her
eyes about, looking for a piece of paper to write on.
"Here," Armaan held his phone out to
her. "Just type a list in here."
She gave him a grateful smile and
typed in all the items she wanted him to bring. When she handed it back to him
he skimmed through the list, shaking his head with amusement at some of the
things she'd noted down.
"Three different dresses?" He
glanced up at her with a baffled frown. "Seriously?"
"I have to be prepared," she told
him, feigning indignation.
"For what? Meeting the Queen of
England?"
"No!" she swatted him with the tea
towel and he chuckled. Folding her hands neatly on the table top, she looked
down at them, feeling embarrassed again. "I want to look nice," she admitted.
"I don't want Muskaan to think I haven't made an effort."
Armaan snorted. "Who cares what
Muskaan thinks?"
But when Shilpa lifted her eyes to
his again he could see the serious anxiety in them.
"Hey," he moved his chair so he
could lean closer to her, taking one of her hands in his own. He peered up at
her, his blue eyes bright and clear and sincere. "You don't have to worry about
making a good impression on my sister. Just be yourself. I've seen the real you
and I think she's pretty great. If Muskaan doesn't too, well, that's her
problem. You're perfect the way you are."
He squeezed her hand gently and with
it she felt all her worries slip away, as if his touch had banished them. His
eyes stared up at her, burning with conviction, asking her to trust his
judgement. And for some odd reason she did. Her lips curved into a small smile.
"Okay."
Armaan returned her smile and then
he stood, gathering all the breakfast dishes and carrying them over to the
sink.
"I'll go now," he told her as he
headed for the door. "Will you be all right till I get back?"
"Sure," she replied. "I'll just read
the newspaper or something."
"Okay, well, see you later." He
started to leave, but then he paused, and, gripping the doorframe, stuck his
head back in the kitchen. "Oh, and Shilpa?"
She arched her eyebrows in a
question mark.
"You're always beautiful, no matter
what you wear."
His words made her heart leap, but
before she could even fully digest them he dropped her a wink and then
disappeared into the hallway, leaving her sitting there, in the middle of his
sister's kitchen, in a state of astonishment. A rush of delight overwhelmed
her, turning her face crimson with a deep blush. She sat for ages at the
kitchen table, her heart beating a furious tattoo, a silly grin playing about
her lips. It wasn't until Rahul and Muskaan finally surfaced that she was roused
out of her daydream, but even then her mind kept running those words through
her head every so often – you're always
beautiful.
By the time Armaan returned from
collecting their stuff, Muskaan had worked herself into a tizzy. There was no
food, she declared five seconds after her brother stepped through the door.
Tomorrow was Christmas and she didn't have anything prepared. They were going
to have to go food shopping and then they needed to head to the mall for last
minute present buying. Armaan groaned, memories of previous shopping
expeditions with his sister rising up like the spectres of Christmas past.
"Do we have to?" he asked, not
caring if he sounded whiney.
"Yes!" she snapped at him. "Unless
you want to eat crackers for Christmas dinner!"
He glanced over at his
brother-in-law, but Rahul just shrugged his shoulders. He'd learned a long time
ago that it was best not to argue with Muskaan when she was in one of her
commandeering moods.
Resigned, Armaan dropped his and
Shilpa's stuff in their respective rooms, and then the four of them headed out
into the nightmare that was Christmas Eve at the mall.
It was already dark by the time they
returned to the house, and while the men slumped on the couch, heaving dramatic
sighs, Muskaan bustled off to the kitchen to prepare dinner for them. Shilpa,
meanwhile, wandered out into the back garden. It had been overcrowded and
stuffy in the shops and she felt in need of some fresh air. The garden was
modest in size, comprising mostly of a snow-dusted lawn and a flowerbed that
stretched the length of the fence. At the back of the garden, however, there
was a solitary oak tree, its bare branches a stark silhouette against the pale
moon. And underneath that was a small loveseat.
Shilpa headed over to it, picking
her way carefully along the icy path. During the day most of the snow had
melted, but there was still a thin layer covering the ground. It sparked in the
moonlight, looking like a blanket of crystals and as she lowered herself into
the loveseat she surveyed it all with a sense of wonder at how beautiful it
looked.
Out here it was quiet, the roar of
the traffic muffled by the houses all around. In the distance she could hear
the faint chime of church bells and a couple of streets down she made out the
gentle chorus of carollers. A light breeze was blowing, ruffling her hair, and
though it was freezing cold, it was also peaceful. If she closed her eyes she
could almost imagine that she was in her own idyllic paradise. She breathed in
deeply, letting it out again with a small, contented sigh.
"Aren't you cold?"
His voice made her start and her
eyes flew open at the same time her heart kicked against her rib cage. He stood
no more than two feet away, all wrapped up in a heavy jacket and a long, checked
scarf. He was rubbing his bare hands together, blowing his breath onto them,
and a misty cloud drifted out from his lips, swirling on the night air before
evaporating into the blackness. She tried to bring her heart rate back down to
a normal rhythm, but the way his eyes glowed in the darkness and that hint of
amusement in them left her feeling slightly breathless.
"I'm okay," she told him. She'd no
sooner uttered this statement than she negated it by wrapping her arms about
herself. But her sudden bout of shivering had nothing to do with the chill
night air.
"Uh-huh," he answered sceptically.
He strode over to her. "Here."
Unwinding his scarf from around his
neck, he tied it securely about her neck. She tried to tell him that he needed
it more than her, but he just shushed her, and then he took a seat next to her.
"What are you doing out here,
anyway?" he asked.
She sighed and glanced up at the
sky. It was a clear night and even though the bright city lights were casting
their habitual glare, she could still make out hundreds of stars, dotted all
over the black vista stretching overhead. They winked and glittered, bringing a
small smile to her face.
"I just wanted to appreciate the
night," she told him. "It's so beautiful. And I don't know why, but it feels
kind of special tonight. Must be because it's Christmas Eve."
He followed the direction of her
gaze, not saying anything right away. The breeze blew over them, wafting
through her hair, lifting it up off her shoulders, making it brush against his
neck, fleetingly. The carollers had moved closer and the soothing sound of
their hymns swept over the pair of them. Armaan had never been particularly
religious, not like his mother or his sister, but sitting there, looking up at
the bright winter sky, hearing those haunting hymns, he found himself agreeing
with Shilpa: there was some sort of magic in the air.
"You know, I really wasn't looking
forward to Christmas," she admitted. Her eyes darted in his direction and he
turned to look at her. A small, wry smile was hovering about her lips and her
emerald eyes sparkled brilliantly in the dark. "I've always hated it. All the
joy and laughter and spending time with your loved ones – it just reminded me
of everything I didn't have."
"I know what you mean," he said
quietly, glancing down at his hands. Hadn't he felt exactly the same way only a
mere week before? Hadn't he been dreading this celebration of light and love,
having lost both from his life?
"But now..." She glanced back up at
the stars and her smile widened. "I'm actually kind of looking forward to it. I
had a lot of fun today. Muskaan has been so kind and made me feel like I'm part
of the family." She met his eyes. "I've never felt like that before."
They gazed at each other in the
darkness, their breath ghosting out in small clouds around them. A strange
tingling had started inside Armaan, shooting from nerve end to nerve end, and
suddenly he found himself holding his breath, though what he was waiting for he
didn't actually know. Shilpa's eyes glowed, more beautiful, more alluring than
the stars. They were filled with warmth, tinged with wonder, and with the cold
turning her cheeks pink, her face seemed to glow. His heart gave an
inexplicable somersault.
"I'm glad you're here," he heard himself
say. "I'm glad I found you."
"So am I," she replied, voice so
soft it was practically a whisper.
A bell tolled, deep and loud, from
somewhere nearby and they both quickly looked away, breathing a little faster
than normal. For a few moments they didn't say a word, just sat, staring out at
the sparkling snow. And then an idea formed in Armaan's head.
"Ever take part in a snowball fight
when you were a kid?" he asked her, his eyes glinting impishly.
She frowned in puzzlement. "No.
Never."
He flashed her that devastating grin
and then the next thing she knew he was smushing a cold lump of snow onto the
top of her head. She squealed, the icy wetness running through her hair and
down the back of her neck, making her teeth chatter, but he just laughed and
jumped to his feet, artfully springing away across the garden.
"Armaan Malik, I am going to kill you!" she cried, struggling up onto
her feet. She ignored her crutch, bracing herself for the pain in her ankle as
she rolled a ball of snow between her hands. She lobbed it in Armaan's
direction, but he ducked out the way, grinning triumphantly at her.
"You'll have to try harder than
that!" he called, scooping up a snowball and throwing it at her. She shrieked
again, bending just in time. The snowball crashed into the pole of the loveseat
behind her. Head snapping up, hair whipping about her, she glared across the
garden at Armaan.
"I don't give up easily!" she warned
him.
"Neither do I!"
He ran at her, catching her about
the waist and pushing her down into the snow. She squealed and managed to shove
a handful of snow into the side of his face. Their laughter rang out, loud and
gleeful and the most wonderful sound Muskaan had ever heard. She stood at the
patio doors, watching them rolling about in the snow like overgrown kids, a
hand pressed to her chest as emotion swelled up inside her. Tears pricked the
backs of her eyes and her throat was choked by a huge lump, but she didn't
care. Nothing else mattered compared to the sight of her brother laughing.
"It's a miracle," she whispered,
sensing Rahul come up behind her. He slid his arms around her waist, resting
his chin on her shoulder. "He's actually laughing. I never thought I'd hear
that sound again."
"Didn't I tell you that God would
hear your prayers?" Rahul said softly, pressing his lips tenderly to the curve
of her neck.
"You did," she agreed, resting back
in the circle of his arms, placing her hands over his. "But he was so changed
and I didn't think..." Her breath shuddered out and Rahul tightened his arms
about her.
"Hey, Muskaan, it's okay," he told
her. "Shilpa is good for Armaan. She's helping him heal all of his wounds. The
old Armaan is coming back. I saw him today. I can see him now."
Muskaan nodded and swallowed down
the lump in her throat. "I know. It just seems too good to be true."
"Everything's going to be okay,"
Rahul said, brushing her hair back from her ear and planting a small kiss on
her temple. "Armaan will be happy again. This family will be happy again."
She turned her head up so she could
look into his eyes, a small smile curving her lips. "I think you might just be
right."
He grinned at her. "Baby, I'm always right," he quipped, eyes glinting
with a teasing light.
She giggled - a little-girl-like
sound that Rahul had always found utterly adorable – and he kissed her cheek,
nuzzling her soft skin with his nose. Sighing in contentment, she nestled back
into his arms, resting her head against his chest while they watched the snow
fight going on outside.
Later
that night, while Shilpa was getting ready for bed, she heard a knock at her
bedroom door.
"Come in!" she called. She was
standing in front of the vanity mirror, trying to balance most of her weight on
her good ankle as she took her earrings out. She titled her head to the side,
scrunching her face up in concentration as she wriggled the post of the right
earring free. All her attention was on her task so she didn't see who had come
into her room until she straightened from laying the earring down on her dressing
table, and, glancing in the mirror, she spied the figure over by the door.
Their eyes met in the mirror. He was
leaning against the door, watching her. She only had the dim desk-light on so
his face was mostly in shadow, but those eyes burned as bright as ever. They
glimmered in the half-light, a strange, intense expression in them that
instantly had the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She felt her
heart jump, a swirl of unexpected nerves in her stomach.
"Armaan?" Her voice sounded throaty
and she coughed to clear it, feeling two hot patches rise up in her cheeks. "What
are you doing here so late?" Her eyes flicked to the clock on her bedside table
and then back to his reflection. "It's almost midnight. I thought you'd gone to
bed."
I know," he answered, his voice deeper,
huskier than usual. He stood up straight and for some reason that sent a shiver
of anticipation down her spine. "Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. It's
just, I doubt Muskaan will let us have a moment alone tomorrow and I wanted to
give you this."
His eyes never left hers in the
mirror as he walked towards her, and as he stepped into the light she nearly
gasped at the dark shade of sapphire they had turned. They were a deeper colour
than she had ever seen them and they seemed to smoulder with some unspoken,
unfathomable emotion. Goose bumps started to rise along her arms and she had to
resist the urge to wrap her arms around herself.
After Muskaan had dragged them in
from the snowball fight and ushered them into their rooms to change out their
wet clothes, they'd had dinner and then the four of them had spent the evening
watching Christmas films. Through it all Armaan had been in a jovial mood,
constantly teasing his sister and making jibes at Rahul. Shilpa couldn't ever
recall seeing him smile so much and he'd appeared genuinely relaxed and
carefree.
But something had changed between
the ten short minutes since she'd bade everyone goodnight and headed for her
room. There was not a single trace of mirth or frivolity in Armaan's
countenance now. As he stopped just behind her, at her shoulder, his face was
so serious it could almost have been called grave. Only, she didn't think that
was the right word. Whatever it was she saw in his eyes, it wasn't formidable;
just deep with some inexplicable meaning.
"I know it's traditional to give it
on Christmas Day, but it's almost midnight and I really wanted you to have it
now."
Her heart was so busy racing that
she didn't notice the little parcel he was holding out to her at first. It
wasn't until he arched his eyebrows questioningly at her and extended his hand
out to her that her eyes alighted on the square shape resting in the palm of
his hand. It was wrapped in silver paper with little white snowflakes etched
onto it and he'd even tied a white ribbon around it. She stared down at it,
unable to breathe for a moment, because she'd never dreamed of something like
this happening. No one besides Sapna ever bought her gifts, not even on her
birthday.
"I...," she lifted her eyes to his
in the mirror, bafflement and astonishment making her stumble over her words.
"It's...for me?"
"Yes," he answered, holding it out
further. "Go on, take it."
Heart fluttering wildly, she turned
and took the little parcel from him. He gave her an encouraging smile and,
cheeks reddening bashfully, she carefully unknotted the ribbon and laid it down
on the dressing table. Her fingers were shaking as she undid the wrapping paper
and she prayed that he didn't notice. She felt highly self-conscious with his
eyes on her, searing through her skin, making her pulse leap nervously. It
meant it took longer than it should have for her to get the paper off but when
she eventually did she found herself holding a small, black velvet box.
"Armaan, I-" she started to say,
glancing up at him with wide, anxious eyes.
"Let me open it for you," he
interrupted her, reaching out and taking the box from her hands. He knew she
had been about to protest, but he wasn't going to let her. All day he'd been
thinking of this moment when he presented the gift to her, imagining her face
when she saw it. He wasn't going to let her ruin it by making some
'I-don't-deserve-it' speech.
With one deft flick of his thumb, he
lifted the lid of the box and then turned it round so she could see inside. A
cushion of royal blue silk – an uncannily similar shade to Armaan's eyes – lined
the inside of the box and nestled against it was a silver locket. An intricate
leaf design decorated the outside of the locket. Shilpa reached out and traced
her fingers over the embossed edges in awe. She'd never seen anything so
beautiful and she couldn't believe he'd bought it for her. A tidal wave of
emotion rose up inside her, choking her throat off, making tears swell behind
her eyes.
"Armaan, it's beautiful!" she
exclaimed, lifting her eyes to his.
"You like it?" he asked, his eyes
searching her face with a mixture of hope and anxiety.
"Like it?" A smile split her lips.
"I love it!"
He let out a breath, his shoulders
relaxing, and a slightly shy grin flashed across his face. "Look inside."
A little gingerly, afraid she might
break it, she pushed the two halves of the locket apart. What she saw inside
made the breath catch tightly in her throat. She gasped, her heart stopping,
her hands flying to her mouth as she stared down at the two pictures on either
side of the locket.
Armaan watched her face
apprehensively, his gut clenching as he tried to decode her reaction. She
looked up at him, her eyes impossibly wide and shimmering with tears. He didn't
know if that was a good or a bad thing and for one terrible moment he held his
breath as she lowered her shaking hands.
"My parents' photos?" She whispered
it, but even so he could detect the emotion in her voice. She was struggling
not to sob.
He nodded, his apprehension
spreading coldly through his stomach, leaving him a little nauseous. "I...I
found the pictures in your room this morning and I...I thought maybe this way
you could keep them with you always."
She didn't know what to say; didn't
even think she could speak past the lump in the back of her throat. Tears stung
her eyes, but they weren't tears of sorrow. They were a mixture of gratitude
and amazement and something infinitely more tender, a feeling she had never
experienced before and couldn't name, but which swept through her whole body,
leaving her with a steady, warm glow inside. She gazed up at him, his eyes too
wide and anxious, deep with earnestness, and all she could think was that he
was the closest thing to an angel she'd ever encountered.
"Thank you," she said softly,
running her finger along the rim of the locket. "This is the most beautiful
gift anyone has ever given me."
Relief washed over Armaan, chasing
away all the knots of tension inside him. A smile turned up the corners of his mouth
and a delighted thrill rushed through him seeing the sheen of happiness in her
eyes.
"Do you want me to put it on for
you?" he asked.
She nodded with a small, shy smile,
and turned back to face the mirror. Armaan carefully closed the locket and took
it out of its little black box. Unclasping the chain, he stepped closer to her,
so he could put it round her neck. Her hair was loose, hanging down her back in
waves. He brushed it back from her shoulders, and the silken strands slipped
past his skin, soft and cool as the night, sending a little tingle down his
arm.
As he placed the locket round her
neck he was surprised to find his fingers a little tremulous. Maybe it was her
sweet fragrance wafting up over him, reminding him of lazy summer evenings, or
maybe it was the proximity of their bodies, the knowledge that one step and her
back would be pressed against his chest. He was conscious of her eyes on him in
the mirror, could feel the heat of her gaze searing through his skin, making
his blood rush in his veins. It took every ounce of self-will he had to
concentrate on his task instead of looking up at her reflection.
"There," he said once the clasp was
fastened.
He did look up then and his heart
skipped a beat as his eyes locked with hers in the mirror. There was a soft
glow in her eyes, like a shaft of sunlight falling across a dark pool of water.
Wonder, that was what he saw shining in them; she was looking at him the way
someone might had they just been pulled from the path of a speeding car.
In the dim lamplight her skin seemed
duskier than usual, more exotic. With her hair draped over her right shoulder,
the left side of her neck was exposed and he found his eyes being drawn to it.
He didn't know what possessed him to do it, but somehow he found himself
reaching out, trailing his fingers down the column of her neck, skimming across
her pulse, which throbbed under his fingertips.
His heart started to beat faster as
he slowly brushed his fingers along her collarbone, bringing them round to the
hollow of her throat. Mesmerised, he watched the path they glided across her
smooth, soft skin. He felt her shiver at his touch and it sent fire leaping
through his veins. And suddenly there was only one thing he wanted to do.
Without stopping to question what he was doing, he bent and pressed his lips to
her neck, right over her pulse point.
She gasped before she could stop
herself, but the feel of his warm lips against her skin was too overpowering.
Pleasure, stronger than anything she had ever experienced before, shot through
her body, causing butterflies to swirl furiously about her stomach. Her eyes
fluttered closed for a second as she basked in the sensation, and then she felt
his lips pull back and she was overcome with a sharp stab of disappointment.
Opening her eyes, she turned slowly
to face him. Her heart began to pound as she looked up into those burning
sapphire depths. The expression in them was like nothing she'd ever seen
before: it was searing and intense and made her shiver and flush all at the
same time. Wordlessly he lifted his fingers, brushing her hair back from her
face. They glided over the tip of her ear, sending an unexpected shock down her
nerve ends. It took everything she had not to moan in delight as his hand slid
round to cup the side of her face, his thumb stroking lightly over her temple.
His eyes flicked back to hers and
her breath caught in the back of her throat. There was real fire burning within
those deep blue irises. No one had ever looked at her like that: fiercely,
passionately, as if she were the most desirable thing in the world. The
pounding of her heart increased, the muscles in her gut clenching in
expectation. A part of her knew she should probably pull back, turn away from
him and those blazing eyes while she still had the chance.
But she didn't.
She stood absolutely still as he
bent his head closer to hers, until their lips were only inches apart. Her
pulse started to hammer and she closed her eyes, fighting back the dizzying
rush of anticipation that swept through her. His breath was fanning across her
lips, making them tingle, a sensation that was being echoed in every nerve of
her body. She swallowed, struggling to breathe. And then she couldn't anyway
because his lips had captured hers.
Her heart all but exploded in her
chest, a burst of flame rose up from her core and spread outwards, engulfing
her whole body. And she didn't care. She moaned, soft and low, and then she was
kissing him back, fiercely, demandingly, in a way she never would have thought
herself capable of. It was as if the touch of his lips had lit a torch,
igniting the spark of the more primal Shilpa, a part of her that had lain
dormant till now. It should have terrified her, should have made her wrench
away from him, but it didn't; it excited her.
Wrapping her arms around his beck,
she pulled him closer, pressing herself into his hard body, thrilling at the
heat that leapt from his body to hers. She parted her lips, letting him deepen
the kiss. His tongue darted into her mouth, running over her own, and the
violent throb of her pulse in response made her groan.
In all her life she'd only been
kissed the once: at a college dorm party that her classmates had talked her
into attending. They had played the inevitable game of spin-the-bottle and much
to her horror she'd been dared to kiss a rather unattractive, frizzy haired
guy. She'd wanted to back out but the others had egged her on and she'd been
too scared of incurring their disapproval that she'd gone along with it. It had
been awful, sloppy and wet, turning her stomach. She'd sworn never to kiss
anyone ever again.
Armaan's kiss was everything that
first experience hadn't been. His lips were soft against her own, a sweet
undercurrent to the fire they were quickly spreading through her. They were
firm, demanding, urging her to meet him passion-for-passion. His fingers
tangled in her hair, only adding to the ripples of pleasure running down her
spine. She raked her nails down the back of his neck, thrilling when he
shuddered. It was exhilarating, dizzying, liberating and she never wanted it to
end.
He hadn't expected such fiery
passion from her; had never imagined that behind those soulful emerald eyes
lurked this wild temptress. Because that was what she was doing – driving him
wild, tempting him to take more, much more than just this one kiss. Desire was
burning in his veins, clouding his mind so all he could think of was the warmth
of her body as she pressed into him, her sweet fragrance that whispered of
balmy summer nights and her deceptively soft yet hot lips moving against his
own.
He drank her in hungrily, fisting
his fingers in her hair as if he could get more of her just by holding her head
back. She was leaving him breathless with her soft little moans and the teasing
brush of her tongue along his. He sucked on her bottom lip, hoping to tame her,
but she only returned the favour by capturing his top lip and tugging gently on
it. A groan spilled out of him before he could stop it and he pulled her
closer, pressing his lips hard against hers.
The sudden sharp knock on the door
made them jump apart, their hearts thudding in unified alarm. They were both breathing
raggedly, faces flushed, eyes wide and a little wild, but they didn't have time
to compose themselves because a second later Muskaan was opening the door and
stepping into the room.
"Shilpa, I-" she started to say,
then came up short when she saw her brother. "Oh! Armaan? What are you doing in
here so late?"
There was not a single note of
suspicion or accusation in her voice, but even so Armaan was overcome with a
hot wave of shame. His sister cocked her head to the side and his heart gave
another panicked stutter as he imagined her putting two and two together.
"I...uh...I was just saying
goodnight to Shilpa," he stammered, keeping his eyes fixed on the carpet. There
was no way he could look his sister in the eye, not with the memory of Shilpa's
kiss still tingling on his lips.
For her part, Shilpa was having a
hard time not going into a panic attack. She clasped her hands tightly together
to keep from biting her nails or running them through her hair, which had to be
all mussed up from Armaan's fingers. Biting the inside of her lip, she glanced
in Muskaan's general direction without meeting her eyes, and nodded.
"Y-yes Muskaan," she stuttered.
"Armaan just came in to wish me goodnight and a happy Christmas." She waved a
hand at the clock which showed the time as a minute past midnight.
"Well, that was why I came,
actually," Muskaan said with a bright smile. "Happy Christmas."
Armaan and Shilpa both mumbled it
back at her, both wishing she would hurry up and leave.
"I also came to check if you needed
anything before you went to bed," she carried on obliviously.
Shilpa quickly shook her head. "No.
I'm fine. Thank you," she added hastily, her mind screaming: just go!
"Good," Muskaan replied. "Okay, well
goodnight. See you in the morning." Shilpa nodded again and Muskaan started to
turn back to the door, but she paused and glanced over at her brother. "Armaan,
are you coming?"
"Huh?" His head snapped up, his eyes
dilating in shock. He looked so startled that Muskaan's eyebrows slid into an
assessing frown.
"What is wrong with you?" she
demanded.
"Wrong?" he cried, voice a little
hoarse. He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling nervously. "Why would anything
be wrong?"
He gave her his best forced grin and
that seemed to pacify her. "Well, then, what are you waiting for?" she asked,
tapping her nails impatiently on the door. "Some of us want to get to bed
tonight."
"Oh! Yeah! Yeah, I'm coming." He
hurried over to her, not daring to risk a glance back at Shilpa. He could feel
her eyes on the back of his neck though, burning through his skin, like her
kiss had seared his lips. Clenching his fingers into fists, he tried to block
the thought from his mind.
"Goodnight Shilpa!" Muskaan called
again.
"Goodnight," she answered softly.
But they were already gone, the door clicking shut behind them.
Dazedly, she turned to the mirror.
The woman that stared back at her was a stranger. Her face was flushed a deep
crimson, her eyes were dilated to an unnatural circumference and they glittered
with an almost frenzied light. Her hair was all tangled and falling about her
face a little wildly. And then there were her lips: swollen, red, and trembling
slightly. She looked startled and crazy, like someone impersonating a zombie.
Could it really be her?
What had just happened? Had she
really kissed Armaan? Her heart thudded as she recalled the fierce way his lips
had claimed hers, the way he'd held her, so passionately, as if he couldn't get
enough of her. Every part of her still throbbed with desire, much to her shame.
Groaning, she curled up on her side on the bed, wrapping her arms tightly
around herself.
She'd never experienced anything
like this before, but then, she'd never had any experience period. She didn't
know if this was normal, if a kiss was supposed to leave you on fire and
yearning for more. Her fingers moved to the locket he'd given her, tracing the
raised edges of the leaf pattern. It was cool to the touch and she tried to
concentrate on the feel of the design as she ran her fingers over it, but she
couldn't keep her mind off the kiss.
She wanted to believe that it wouldn't
make a difference, that it wouldn't change anything between them, but she knew
better. They had crossed a line tonight, one they had been balancing on all
week without acknowledging it, and now nothing could be the same again. The
status of their relationship had altered, though what that meant she couldn't
be sure. She had no way of knowing how Armaan would behave tomorrow or even how
he felt about what had happened tonight.
Why did he kiss her? Was it because
he was genuinely attracted to her or was there some other reason? Why had she
kissed him? Because when he is near, when
he touches me, he's all I can think about, she thought, curling her fingers
tightly about the locket, as if by doing so she could hold on to tonight and
everything it had made her feel.
But did that mean she wanted a
relationship with him? No, caring for someone meant inevitably one day you
would wind up getting hurt, and she had suffered enough anguish in her life;
she didn't want anymore. And yet...when she was him she didn't want to be
anywhere else. He made her feel safe and wanted and, yes, happy. If she closed
her eyes she could easily imagine spending the rest of her life nestled in his
arms.
Letting out a shuddering breath, she
lifted her eyes back to her reflection. The wild-looking girl stared back at
her, offering her no answers. She knew she wouldn't get any until tomorrow,
until she saw Armaan again. Only then would she have any idea of what the
events of this night meant and what they signified for her future...for her future
with Armaan.
Sighing, she curled up on her side
under the covers and waited for whatever the morning would bring.
they make such lovely pairs as friends :) oh yeah that happens a lot when you have a facebook account 😆 my sis always threatens me with that 😆 I can't wait for your next update.. please make it longer as longer as u can ..maybe as a treat for all kashians 😃 you know how much we deserve it right? 😆 NO WAY! 
2 weeks? :( darn! 
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