-• honeymoon •-
Taranya
I touch my lips, wondering if they have grown a mind of their own to be so boldly reciprocating a drunk mistake.
Then I look down at him. He's sleeping so peacefully. Lips puckered out, slightly red, and I can notice the bite marks, along with the smudged rose balm I had applied before he stained it. My stomach drops to a new low. Instead of regret, another wave of temptation washes over me. I shake my head, chastising myself internally for even thinking about it.
I need to sleep.
He has taken up the entire bed. I look around the room and spot the couch near his bookshelf. That'll do.
As I turn to leave, an unfamiliar voice startles me. "He hasn't taken out his contact lens."
"What the fuck?" I look around the room, at the walls particularly. The voice seems to have come through them.
"I'm sorry. I did not mean to scare you." My gaze zeroes on the speaker installed near the wall TV. I walk closer.
Is it talking to me?
"I'm Yara."
"Oh," is my response. I'm yet to process that an AI is talking to me, like one human does with another human. A completely normal conversation.
"He hasn't removed his contact lenses. Sleeping with them drastically increases the chances of damaging his eyes. If you could please remove them for him, I won't have to keep the emergency number on a speed dial."
I lock my arms on my back, looking over my shoulder at the sleeping figure of my husband. "Actually, I don't use contact lenses. So I don't have any idea how to handle them."
"That's okay. I can help you out with step by step instructions. You've to follow them, that's it."
I blow my cheeks, releasing the air dramatically that makes my chest sink in defeat. "Okay, what needs to be done first?"
"Wash your hands."
"Right. That's given. Basic requirement." I blabber.
"Yeah," he replies awkwardly.
Having an awkward conversation with an AI? You've done the unthinkable, Tara. Hats off to you.
Walking into the bathroom, I turn the tap on and wash my hands clean. I come out while wiping my hands to a dry towel. Yara helps me with the next steps. It was easy. Except for the part where I had to stretch Shourya's eyes open and gently remove the lens. That was weird and uncomfortable.
"There must be an eye drop in the drawer next to the bed." I reach for the nightstand drawer. "His side." He corrects me. Nodding, I lean over Shourya's body and balance myself on the right elbow, using my left hand to open the drawer.
"Woah," the inside of the drawer reveals a compact medical store. I get distracted. There are all kinds of medicines inside. Tablets, capsules, tonics, even syringes and vials.
"Soha eye drops." Yara's voice brings back my attention.
"Oh yeah, right." I pick up the tiny bottle and retract. "How many?"
"Two in each." He answers.
Once I'm done, I put the bottle back in its place and wipe away the excess that slipped down Shourya's eyes. "That's it?"
"Yes, thank you."
I nod and get up to leave the bed.
"I've another favour to ask."
I pause, my feet retreating to the bed as I tuck them behind, waiting for him to finish.
"If he sleeps in that position, he'll have nightmares."
I chuckle. "What even? He's fast asleep. And what does position have to do with your nightmares?"
"He sleeps better."
I sigh exasperated. "And I thought he developed an AI to hack into world's strongest securities. Turns out, you're only his nanny." I wrap my arm around the set of heavy, broad shoulders and with a grunt, drag him to sit with his back against the headboard.
"I can hack into world's strongest securities." To my surprise, Yara gets offended.
I smile in amusement. "Sure," unfolding the quilt, I use it to cover Shourya's body from the cold.
"I can." He states, his tone defensive.
I hum.
"Boss was right calling you foolishly stubborn. Good night."
Gasping, I look at the speaker in shock. "Excuse me?" He doesn't respond. My eyes dart back to his boss. "I'm not foolishly, stubborn, you Grinch!" I slap him on the arm. He doesn't even budge. "Ungrateful brats." Snorting, I get off the bed and storm over to the couch.
Lying flat, I huff out an angry breath. I shouldn't have returned. He definitely was drowning himself in alcohol thinking I've made my mind to never come back. I know him. He's obsessed with control. And he's smart enough to know so much alcohol will strip him off the same thing he adores the most. Maybe I should have stayed a day more or two. But I didn't have any excuse to make to my brothers. I'm a newly wed bride. Typically, I should be thinking of spending as much time as I can with my husband. So I had to play my part and pretend to be happy to come back here, in this cold, blood sucking hell hole.
Yanking the sheets over my head, I close my eyes and force myself to fall asleep. The couch is uncomfortable. But it's better than sleeping with him on the bed. After what happened tonight, I don't trust myself with him. Not because he's drunk, but because when horny, I tend to have loose morals.
I wake up first the following morning. My muscles ache in the small space. So I sit up and stretch them to their limit, groaning in relief. Releasing a deep breath, I sit leaned in, back hunched, hands interlaced in the gap between my knees, my eyes on the man on the bed.
He has got rid of his shirt somewhere in the middle of the night. And his trousers are unbuckled, hanging low on his hips. The waistband of his Calvin Klein briefs show. I lick my lower lip. He is no where pure muscle mass. His waist is surprisingly small. I'd kill to have that kind of waistline. It's not fair. But his shoulders are unnaturally broad, almost glorious, godly. I focus more on his sinewy arms. Beautifully wrapped in tempting veins, twitching every time he moves.
For times than I remember, those large arms have been around me, swallowing me like the sea embracing a wrought ship. It's strange, being more familiar with his body than him. I remember every detail of how it felt to be leaning on him in the moments of intimacy, both physical and emotional.
I'm really foolishly stubborn.
I was so determined on believing that he's two different people, that I never realised the familiarity with which he handled me everytime we were close. His one hand on my cheek, the other wrapped around my waist, his body always supporting mine, him burying his face into my neck after a heavy, passionate make out session. Everything was so clear. It was I, who had a blindfold on.
But I can never forgive him.
He had me torned between a dream and a reality. I was so ashamed to be feeling so intensely for two men that were as different as day and night. How did he do it? How did he even face me in the light after deceiving me in the dark? Did he never feel bad for me? Did he never stop to think what toll it took on me? The confusion, the mental strain, the sleepless nights, I was a mess.
I hate that he is so sure he's in love with me. The certainty in his voice is acid in my ears. I can't wait for the time he falls victim to his own confusion. I can't wait until he's torned between wanting me so much that it hurts, and letting me go so badly because it hurts. He deserves it. He deserves all the pain after what he did to me.
Tearing my eyes off him, I rub my cold hands together for some warmth. I get off the bed to start my morning routine. After changing into my gym clothes, I pick up my gym bag and swing it over my shoulders before leaving the room. Amir leads me to the hotel gym and holds the door open until I walk in before following inside. I glance towards my right. Niharika is absorbed in her training and doesn't notice me. I put my gym bag aside, fastening the laces of my shoes before I get up and stretch my body muscles for a warm up. Instead of going for the punching bag as usual, I decide to use the treadmill.
I'm not the kind of person to let others affect me so easily. I was up until my teens. Not anymore. So it bothers me a lot that I constantly look at Niharika. Not with interest. I wish. Because I'd love to look at her with admiration than discomfort. She's a gorgeous woman. And her body is spectacular. But admiration is the last thing I feel everytime I look at her. If anything, I'm unsettled, borderline threatened. I don't know why.
The contract!
Yes, she knows about the contract. Maybe that's what making me all icky. I mean, if my brothers find out, it'll be a mess. I nod. Right, that's what bothers me. Even if the contract she has is not original, but still, she's aware that my marriage with Shourya is only on papers with an expiration date. She can use that against me anytime.
I glance at her again. This time with a glare.
What a cunning woman.
Snorting at her existence, I look ahead and increase the speed to run faster.
Upon returning to the palace, I discover Shourya still asleep. It's like he's making up for years worth of sleep. Walking into the bathroom, I pull off the tank top and use it to wipe off the sweat. Then I wash my hands and start to brush my teeth. Letting the toothbrush hang from my mouth, I brace the basin and lean in, admiring the muscle definition in my arms and belly. It's not much. Because of dance practice, I'm more lean and agile than a mass of muscle. I wish I can dance again. I miss dancing. It's been months since I let music control my mind and body.
The door slams open, making me scream. I stumble back sharply, causing my brush to drop on the floor. My eyes meet the dark ebony ones and I screw my face in disbelief. "What is wrong with you!?" I screech, the foam in my mouth spraying all over but I could care less.
Instead of answering me, he lunges forward to hug me tightly. I yelp, my arms floating on the sides awkwardly. I blink. "Wha- What's wrong?"
"I thought it was a dream." He pants roughly.
"What dream?" I ask, flabbergasted.
He pulls away and cups my face, then grimaces when the toothpaste foam gets on his palms. But he dismisses the little inconvenience easily by looking into my eyes. "I had a dream. In my dream, I was on my knees. And you-" he stops, his cheeks flushing a little as he clears his throat, scrambling back until his back touches the door. "Uhm," he scratches the back of his head. "I'm glad you're back. Thank you."
"I didn't come back for you." I clarify.
He nods. "I know. But still thank you."
I shrug.
He turns to leave, I bend to pick up my brush. He abruptly stops. I do too. He looks down at me. I look up at him. Then his gaze drops to the ample view of my cleavage visible from the low dip of my sports bra. I hurriedly stand straight. He looks away, as if I didn't catch him ogling at my chest. Pervert.
"What?" I demand.
"I was drunk last night."
"So?"
"So, I'm a little confused."
"About what?"
"About what happened last night." He mumbles shyly.
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop smiling. Who knew the Shourya Singh Rajawat can also feel flustered. Moving towards the basin, I wash my mouth and face before picking up the brush from the floor and washing it as well. "What do you think happened?" I'm not telling him the truth. But I'm willing to listen to him. I've a feeling it's going to be amusing.
"My memories are slightly faded. And a lot more questionable."
I rest my hip against the basin and cross my arms on the chest. "What do you remember?"
He chews on his lower lip. The one I nibbled on last night. I inhale a deep breath.
"I remember going to club. I got wasted. Amir got me to the car. We came home. He offered to take me inside. I refused. That's it. That's what I remember really happened. After that it's all blur. It's a series of absurd situations that don't make sense. I think it's a dream but I fail to believe because it felt so real."
"What was the dream?"
"We kissed." He looks into my eyes. "On the staircase."
I dig my nails into my arms to keep the straight face on.
"It's unfathomable." His emotions are so vocal in his eyes when he's not wearing the contact lenses. "Did that really happen? Did we really kiss? In the middle of the staircase? Out in the open? Did that really happen, Esther?" He steps closer.
My tough posture falters hearing the intensity, the desperation and the hope in his voice.
"Of course not." I scoff. "I don't know about you, but I'm a sensible adult. It's true I found you on the staircase. But you were looking for your ring and I searched it for you. Then I dragged you upstairs and you fell asleep. That's it. Your ring is on the bedside table, by the way."
The shine in his eyes vanishes. "Oh,"
"Yes, so now get out. I've to take a shower." I push him out of the bathroom and slam the door close on his face. Turning around, I drop my face in my hands and groan soundlessly in frustration.
What is wrong with me?
Why did I lie?
Sensible adult, my ass.
He was drunk and I'm embarrassed to face my actions. I should have just told him the truth. We're adults. We're straight. It happens. It's natural. The point is, I stopped in time. I could have told him everything and dismissed it as a moment of weakness. I'm such an idiot.
"Ugh!" I stomp my feet on the floor.
After a long, warm shower, I wrap the towel around my body and reach for my clothes on the hook, only to realise I did not carry any with myself since I walked straight into the bathroom post my gym session.
Fuck.
Stepping out of the shower stall, I walk up to the door and slowly pull it open. I take a careful look around. He's nowhere to be seen. Maybe he's in the gym? My eyes fall on the speaker near the television and I frown. Can he see me? I don't want to accidently flash an AI. What if he's recording too? I need to ask Shourya. But first, I need to put some clothes on.
I calculate the distance between the bathroom and the closet and take a leap of faith. In a matter of seconds, I'm running out of the bathroom and closing the door of the closet. "Oh, thank God." I rest my forehead on the door frame.
"Uhm,"
I shriek and spin around, fisting the knot on my chest. Shourya stares at me, a t-shirt in his hand, half dressed in brown joggers. His eyes drop to my feet and slowly travel up, stopping at my bosom, where he takes a moment to linger, licks the corner of his lips and then continues higher, blinking when he meets my glare.
"Get out." I step aside, clutching my towel tighter. I'm not going to make it more awkward for myself by acting all fidgety and nervous. He's in the wrong. Even if indirectly.
He quickly puts on his tshirt and walks over, stopping unexpectedly at the door. I look up at him in question. "That's my towel."
I frown and look down at the towel. It's black. I close my eyes in regret. That's right. I didn't even take my towel with me in the bathroom.
"So what?" I raise my chin defiantly, "Are you saying I should give it to you now?"
"No," he smiles. "I'm saying it's my towel."
"What is your point?"
"Nothing. I'm just happy it's my towel."
"Get out, you creep." I shove him outside and close the door.
I hear him laugh on the other side of the door. Resting my forehead on the frame, I spend another minute cursing myself in my head. When I come out dressed, I hear the shower running. A sly smile forms on my face. I lock the door from outside.
"Let's see who laughs now." I grumble.
Then I grab my laptop from the desk and sit down on the bed, crossing my legs and swaying them sideways as I wait for the machine to boot up.
Sometime later, I hear the door knob rattle. "What the fuck?" He swears. "Is it jammed?" He asks aloud. "Tara, are you there? Open the door! I'm locked inside."
I press my lips together to resist a smile.
"My love, please don't play around."
I clear my throat at the endearment.
"Tara, please open the door."
I ignore him, humming a random tune as I focus on the screen of my laptop.
"Yara, is my wife in the room?"
I look up at the speaker.
"Yes, boss." He answers.
I glare at the speaker.
"Tara, c'mon, it's not funny anymore."
"So wasn't using Tarun to make me come to that room in England!"
"I did that because I love you."
I scoff. "Well, I'm doing this because I hate you!"
He falls quiet. I stop looking at the laptop when he doesn't speak again. A minute passes, then another, then another. Is he alive? Putting the laptop aside, I get off the bed and walk to the bathroom door. When I don't hear any noise, my panic grows. Is he claustrophobic? Did he faint? Oh my God. Without wasting another second, I lurch forward and open the door.
"Got ya!" He lunges at me and picks me up by the waist. I scream like a banshee, kicking my legs in the air and flinging my arms around helplessly.
"You brute!"
He laughs and throws me on the bed before climbing me like a tree, straddling me to stop moving. When I don't, he pins my hands above my head and traps my knees between his gigantic thighs. I breathe roughly, twisting and rubbing my wrists to escape his strong grip. Futile. I'm as helpless as a mouse under the claws of a lion. His laugh settles, his breath grows hurried and I swallow softly. Our eyes meet and I see the rationality flying off his face as soon as he leans in, desperate to kiss me, and then stops inches away, realising what he was doing. "Fuck," the word caresses my lips. I clench my legs together as the heat pools in the depths of my stomach. "Let me, please." He begs.
It takes me enormous strength to say, "No."
He releases me and sits with his arms draped across his knees, his back facing me.
I fix my clothes and rub the sore wrists, sitting up straighter. "Don't manhandle me again."
"I wasn't manhandling you. I was being playful. I'm sorry if it came off as manhandling." He leaves the bed to go into the closet.
I nibble on my lower lip mindlessly. He comes out dressed in a navy suit, sans the tie, busy putting on his wrist watch. "Let's go down for breakfast."
I nod and grab my phone from the nightstand, following him out.
"Good morning, my grandson. Good morning, Taranya." The Chairman greets us.
Shourya smiles back and greets with the same pleasant tone. I force myself to be polite.
"How was your trip back home, Taranya?"
I nod. "I had a great time."
"I heard you're joining office from next week?"
"Yeah, on Tuesday."
"That's right. Shourya is taking over the new finance company on Monday. It's a big day for him. You've to be there."
"Yeah."
"So, do you guys have any plans for your honeymoon?"
I choke on the coffee and end up coughing. "Sorry," grabbing a few tissues from the box, I wipe my lips dry. "Honey- Honeymoon?" I look at the men around the table.
"Yeah, honeymoon. Every couple has one." Virendra explains like I'm a child.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
"I was thinking of the farmhouse we have in the outskirts." Shourya suggests. "We can think of an elaborate holiday once we've settled down comfortably in our respective work fields."
The Chairman nods. "Sounds good to you, Taranya?"
"Yes." I agree. Better than flying to another country and spending more than two weeks alone.
"Have you decided when to leave?"
"It's a two hours drive. We can leave tonight." Shourya looks at me suggestively.
I share his agreement with a nod.
Honeymoon, yay!
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