The Fashion of Love | Adult F/M Romance [COMPLETE]

ch. 35 - July

Sora sat down on the first row at the end of the runway in the Misra showroom, toeing off one of her pumps to rub the ball of her foot that had been barking since noon. All the pacing didn't help. She was just short of hoarse from the number of print interviews she'd handled after her staff meeting this afternoon. She smiled, nevertheless, when Ravi re-appeared from backstage to join her in the viewing area.

He picked up on her mood right off, taking up residence in the chair beside her.

"Bad day?"

"It isn't one of the best I've had lately, but it's steadily improving." Assuming she ignored the more puzzling aspects, it was wonderful. Remember when I dreamed of a simple life.

"I'm known to have that effect on women," he boasted, meeting her halfway for a sumptuous hello kiss. She dropped her clutch to get her hands on him, under his jacket and as close as she dared to skin. He dropped his portfolio to return the favor.

"That's what they all say."

He kissed her again.

"You sure know how to lighten the mood," he replied when they'd separated.

She pealed back his unbuttoned collar to trace his Adam's apple. "That's what they all say."

He swallowed at the lightness of her touch. Ravi had a neck made for attention and Sora was powerless to resist lavishing him with it. Not that he was any slouch in the lavishing department. Two kisses in thirty seconds was tame for Ravi Misra.

She noticed Ravi's cellphone lit up inside his open jacket.

"Looks like you've got a new text."

Taking a moment to retrieve his portfolio from the floor, he checked the message, scratching his cheek in bemusement.

"Dhiren?" she guessed.

"Don't I wish." He pocketed the phone, evidently opting not to respond. He shifted toward her. "I don't wanna talk about it. I wanna talk about you."

Which was the last thing Sora was up to after this morning. "What about me?"

He adjusted his sleeves. "I wanna get your opinion on the line. This is your first time seeing it post-fabrication."

Sora grabbed her handbag off the floor, checking that nothing of import had been lost. "I'm still not an industry professional."

"Good, that's not what I need. I need you. Like I said, I trust you. You won't lie to me and you give good advice. I need that; I'm too close to this. It's a labor of love, I'm biased."

"You're a designer, every garment you produce is a labor of love."

"Not so. Some things you do to pay a car note, some you do because to deny yourself the opportunity is to deny who you are. The latter are passion projects. Defiant is a passion project, because I'm passionate about my inspiration—women like you."

"You showed me once the amount of love that can be sewn into a garment with needle and thread. Can you do that again?"

"I can do anything for you."

Like remind me of my best self and give me back my heart? I think you can.

"You've done just about everything. This is just another day." She ran her hand along his shoulder. "Inspire me."

He cupped her chin to kiss her swiftly on the lips. "Gritty as hell."

His murmuring kisses were her sweet addiction; how his words seemed to tumble down her nerves like scales, each one a perfect note. This note rang true as any other, singing to her bones in a pitch she'd grown to love; one that kept her awake on as many nights as it had soothed her to sleep, and all before a single declaration.