All Strings Attached

Chapter Nineteen

"You clearly were doing something," he insists. "Why were you touching me while you thought I was asleep?"

"Stop making it sound lewd, I was just touching your face."

"Still," he presses, "you touched me while you thought I was asleep."

"You were cuddling me while I was asleep," I accuse him, "what of that?"

"That's not cuddling," Dhushyanth retorts, and even though I'm secretly glad we agree on that, I refuse to back down. "I'm just holding you."

"But I was actually sleeping. You were just acting like you were asleep," I accuse him. "You were trying to take advantage of me while I was unconscious."

"You moved over to my side of the bed," he argues, "if you're on my side of the bed, we go by my rules."

"What rules?" I ask rhetorically, accentuating the absurdness of his claims with a scoff. "It's the same bed, you're speaking as though I've trespassed into your kingdom."

"That is how I feel about my side of the bed," Dhushyanth continues to argue, making my frown deepen.

"Are you five?"

"If I were five, you'd be a foetus."

"And I'd still be more mature than you."

"You can't win all the age arguments," Dhushyanth whines, uncharacteristically for him, making me chuckle out loud.

"Do the age jokes upset you?" I ask him, when he narrows his eyes at my laughter.

"No," he says, his tone wavering, "I don't know," he admits, "it's okay some times, and some times it feels like an obstacle? You know, humour only works because there is some truth to it."

"Humour also works because you look really cute when you're annoyed," I find myself telling Dhushyanth, not processing the words until I hear myself saying them.

Dhushyanth's eyebrows shoot up, his ears turning red as a smile stretches onto his face. "I'm glad you think I'm cute."

I think he's hot.

More hot than cute anyway.

But this is not information Dhushyanth should have.

"It has a lot to do with your genes and very little to do with you," I point out.

"Maybe," he agrees, unfazed as he gently presses me back onto the bed, and raises himself onto his elbow, hovering over me. "But there's got to be a reason why you like annoying me so much," his hot breath fans my cheek.

"Because of your genetics," I respond, pulling the blanket up my chest and holding it against myself to try to make my body less conscious of Dhushyanth's proximity, but I know it isn't doing anything for me as his eyes flicker down to my lips, and I have to consciously withhold myself from covering the distance between our lips.

"Anthe na?" [Is that all?] he dips lower, his eyes trained on my eyes.

"Why else—" I don't finish the sentence, instead, biting down on my lower lip to save myself from his smoulder gaze.

"Sita," he calls out to me, tugging my lip out of my teeth's confines, "you can say no," he tells me, sliding his palm up my jaw. "I will not touch you if you don't like it."

His rough thumb moves against my cheek as he lowers himself into my neck, his beard scratching my skin, tingling it as he presses a kiss against the side of my neck.

"I know this isn't how it was," he acknowledges, "and I feel differently about you now," he whispers, brushing his lips against my ear, causing me to fist the blanket as my heart thuds loudly against my chest and my core pulsates.

I find it important to cut him off to ask, "differently how?"

Dhushyanth comes up to look at me, his dark eyes scanning my face. "I care for you," he says, "I always have, because you have been important to my family, but this is different. It's more to do with me. This isn't how it used to be."

I know Dhushyanth means to say something to me, and I know this isn't the most direct way he could have said it, and that grey area, the space where his lack of clarity pours life into my thoughts and presses the right buttons, is what propels my next actions.

I reach up to cover the distance between our lips, using my hand to pull him down with a firm grip on the side of his neck.

I bite his lower lip firmly, seeming to excite him as one of his hands reaches for my ass under the covers, while the other remains on my cheek.

I tug at the hair on the back of his head, causing him to moan into my mouth, only further igniting the butterflies in my belly.

Dhushyanth's hand slides down my neck, closing in on my clothed chest, and giving my breast a squeeze, making me gasp, even though I had expected the move.

Fucking hell, I'm touch starved.

He dips into the other side of my neck, his hands snaking under my cotton kurta, up my soft waist. I feel Dhushyanth sucking my skin, and I want to tell him not to give me a hickey, but I hardly have any control over the sounds that leave my mouth as he continues his ministrations, his sloppy kisses working magic as they render me a hot mess under him.

Dhushyanth's hand travels downward to the drawstrings of my trousers, undoing them, and running his thumb over the sliver of skin just above my panties.

I peel his t-shirt off of his torso, gently pushing him away so it can come fully undone. He pulls the t-shirt over his head, taking it off. Dhushyanth's hands quickly work their way downwards, attempting to get rid of my trousers, but a sudden knock on the door causes the afternoon haze to quickly wear off.

"Fuck," I swear, trying to take my trousers back from him, but Dhushyanth presses his palms against my hips, gripping them firmly, and shakes his head, refusing to let go.

"Who's that?" He asks, loudly.

"Dhushyanth sir," we hear from outside, "your mother is calling you and madam downstairs for tea."

Dhushyanth hisses, annoyed. "Tell her we'll be there."

"She said to be quick," the voice comes again.

"I said we'll be there," Dhushyanth repeats himself, his tone way harsher this time.

"Dhushyanth," I admonish mildly, even though annoyance rushes through me in waves.

Dhushyanth was finally losing control. And I didn't even have to ask for it. But here we are, high and definitely not dry. Maybe later. Later best be tonight.

"I don't want to go," he grumbles, resting his forehead against mine. His hands find their way under my panties, squeezing my ass.

My husband is one hundred percent a butt-guy.

I link my arms around Dhushyanth's neck, pulling him closer so he can rest his weight on me, since he's still hovering.

"What are you doing?" He chuckles, moving a few inches away, to look at me, "I'll crush you under me."

"Just for a moment," I bargain, wanting to feel him mould into me, craving his proximity.

"Sita," he attempts to dissuade me, but I shake my head, staunchly.

"Dhushyanth."

I hear him sigh, softly, not exasperated, not tired or defenceless, almost satisfied.

He relaxes into my hold, and I weave my hands through his thick tresses, scratching the back of his head, gently, as he snuggles into my neck, his larger frame moulding into mine, perfectly.

My baby.

My eyes snap open at the thought, my heart pacing up enough to concern me that Dhushyanth might hear it.

Not my baby, I attempt to comfort myself.

He's a baby.

Big baby.

What do you think will happen next? 👀 any theories?