Arranged Roommates

|44| As Whipped As Cake-Frosting

Tucking the wisp of hair that had tumbled on my cheek behind my ear, he pecked my lips twice before finally distancing himself.

His arms wrapped me as his cheek rested on my chest. Placing my hand on his head, I asked, chuckling, "What are you doing, it's-"

He shushed me, continuing the hug, swaying me in a gentle to-and-fro motion in his arms. "Do minute aur ruk ja bss, aise hi..."

(Let's just stay like this for two more minutes...)

I smiled bashfully, bending down to kiss his forehead. Trailing my fingers through the silky tresses of his hair, I asked after a couple of minutes of silence, "Are you mood for some dessert after dinner, Mr Arora?"

I caught a glimpse of his shadowed dimple in the dim lighting as he teased, the sound of his whisper sending a trail of shiver through my spine, "Is that your attempt at dirty-talking, Mrs Arora?"

I slapped his thigh with my free hand, scoffing, "That wasn't on my mind for even a micro millisecond! I just asked that because mumma taught me a new milk cake recipe today and we saved a portion for you."

His mom was one of the most well-known chefs in the country, and whenever I stood next to her in the kitchen, I always got to learn something new. I never wanted to leave this place and go back to Mumbai again, just so that I could spend more time with his mom. She was simply the best.

Kissing my jaw and then my cheek, he murmured against the skin, "I would love to have the desserts then...Both of them."

Fire rose up my neck, flaming all the way to my blazing cheeks.

"I would love that too..." The whisper of my voice followed, a mingle of breathy sounds echoing through the room.

After a moment of tranquility, I stood up from his lap, saying, "You rest then. I will have the dinner ready."

"I want to help too."

"You remember what happened last time you tried to help me in the kitchen, right? Or do you need another knife cut to refresh the memory?" I asked sarcastically, placing my hands on my waist, as he stood up from the bed.

"I will just stand there silently. Promise. With a finger on my lips like a good boy."

***

"Aryan stopppp!" I whisper-yelled, as he carried out a scientific experiment with a cookie-cutter and roti dough.

"You are not supposed to use the cookie cutters to make different roti shapes. Cookie cutter is just supposed to be used for cookies!"

When he ignored me, I snatched the gadget out of his hand. He scowled at me, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Stop stifling my creativity, Ria!"

"Stop doing stupid shit, Aryan!"

His lips tilted up in a sudden crooked smile, as he cooed, "You look so fucking hot when you are angry at me like this."

Picking the rolling pin up from the kitchen counter, I threatened, pointing it at him, "I guarantee you that I will not look hot when I beat you up in a pulp with this Belan."

I tried to maintain a serious look on my face.

Keyword being: tried. Because I could feel my eyebrows and lips twitching in amusement at his antiques.

Dipping a roti ball in some dry flour, I started rolling it. And that's when I felt a pair of arms enveloping my waist from behind. His chin rested on top of my shoulder, as he grumbled near my ear, "Riaaaaa...listen na."