Arnav stuffed another morsel of scrumptious aloo parantha in his mouth, desperately trying to ignore the heat in his body. He was sure there were two spots of pink blooming on his cheeks. It was the heat that had nothing to do with the spices in the parantha and everything to do with the beautiful woman who had made them.
The woman who was sitting in front of him, awkwardly willing the flush away from her own face.
It so happened that she had come to wake him up half an hour back. And call it an occupational hazard, but he had lethally quick reflexes even in his sleep. It took only a nanosecond for him to haul and trap her beneath his body when she poked him in the shoulder. Thankfully, his subconscious knew that he was safe in his house, else he might have snapped her wrist or something. As soon as he saw her surprised face below his and it registered that it was Khushi who had touched him, he almost launched into an angry lecture about her safety and all.
But then she writhed under him.
Her lush body, trapped and molded to his hard weight lying upon it, writhed.
All thoughts promptly vanished from his brain, let alone a full speech.
His body roared to life, and he could see goose bumps break out over hers. It didn't help that they both were inexperienced. A raw desire sizzled between them, an unholy excitement filled the air.
So Arnav did the only sensible thing that cropped up in his rapidly shutting down brain; he pushed himself off of her and jumped back to stand a good three feet away from the bed. An out of breath Khushi had hastily followed the suit, on the other side of the bed.
After a few stunted attempts at forming coherent sentences, neither even tried to look at the other as they exited his bedroom.
It all must have taken less than two minutes in all to happen, but half an hour later, the awareness still throbbed between them like a pagan force.
Arnav looked at Khushi, who was tapping away on her phone as if her life depended on it. She was yet to look at him for more than a few seconds and talk to him about anything other than asking if he wants more paranthas.
He knew she was going to leave shortly, and he thought it was a good idea. The sinfully graphic images of a soft delectable Khushi writhing beneath him that his lusty brain was playing, on repeat, warranted an extremely cold shower. It was with sheer willpower that he was restraining himself from jumping her bones.
In the hindsight, he hadn't thought that celibacy plan through. All he knew in that moment was that he had to be his own moral police if he wanted to make anything of himself in this sinkhole. The vices were abound in this world, and one misstep could make even the mighty fall. And he was absolutely nothing. But he did make a success of his life proving that his decision was not wrong. He had no regrets that he stopped his intimate life to a standstill for years.
Another major driving force behind his decision all those years back was the lovely woman in front of him. He couldn't bring himself to touch someone who was not her. To him, physical love was a simultaneous entity with romantic love. The concept of 'just physical', which must have been coined by manipulative people who wanted to have their cake and eat it too, never floated well with him. How can one seek physical release with someone else while claiming to love another? It was the cheapest form of infidelity, getting into bed with just anyone to sate your baser need. If one does not have even this basic control over his or her urges, then how can they be expected to stand strong in the face of trial and tribulations that love invariably presents. It was a hideous mockery of the feeling called love if you ask him.
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Best Laid Plans (Complete)Fanfiction
Mumbai. The city of dreams. With shimmering Arabian Sea, glittering skyscrapers, glamorous Bollywood; everywhere sun hits here, this city dazzles. But beneath this warm dazzle, there is another Mumbai. The cold Mumbai. The dark Mumbai. The stronghol...