Needing her skin-to-skin with him, he helped her strip him of the cotton, then did the same to her. She was still wearing the pale peach bra that was both an invitation and a seduction. But when he would’ve bent his mouth to her, she pushed him back. “It’s my turn,” she murmured… and put her mouth on his skin.
Raj had fantasized plenty during his celibate years. He was a traditional man who’d chosen to wait, not a monk who’d given up the idea of sex altogether. But not once had he dreamed about a woman kissing his chest with utter attention to detail, as if she didn’t want to miss an inch.
A flick of her tongue over his nipple.
Raj shuddered and wove his fingers into Nayna’s hair again. Then he let her do as she pleased. Because having Nayna adore him like this… Yeah, he could live with it. When she tugged away her head, he thought she wanted to stop, but she simply wanted to change position. To a kneeling one between his legs.
The better to reach his abs.
Dropping back his head, Raj didn’t look as she tasted him with small flicks and licks. If he did, he would probably lose it again. Because while Nayna was absorbed in his abdomen, she was also very close to his cock. And that part of his body didn’t understand patience. Not after so many years of being deprived.
If he wasn’t careful, he’d come in his pants like a hormone-crazed teenager.
* * *
Nayna flicked up her lashes and saw that Raj’s head was thrown back, his jaw tightly clenched. The hand he’d thrust back in her hair was fisted, and every so often, he’d tug. She had the feeling it wasn’t on purpose, more an involuntary action when she hit a sensitive spot.
Every part of her hummed at seeing him like this, so utterly open to her. The way he’d held her, the way he’d kept her protectively close when they walked back, the fact he’d been ready to fight for her even when she’d tried to be silly and give him up… All she wanted to do was show him what he was to her.
Words worked. But for them, so did the physical.
Touches, kisses, caresses, they were two people between whom it could never be casual.
She ran her tongue all the way along one side of the vee.
“Fuck.” It was gritted out, his thighs rigid on either side of her.
Her own pulse throbbing in her neck, she took advantage of his closed eyes to look down at the part of his body so very close to her cheek, the denim of his jeans fighting to contain it. And maybe because he wasn’t watching, or maybe because they were starting to become each other’s on a level beyond anything she’d experienced with another human being, she closed her hand over him.
The cry he let out this time was more of a roar, the hand in her hair pulling almost painfully tight for a second before he let go and grabbed at the arms of the chair. “Nayna.” A rasp. “I think we should move to the bed.”
Emboldened by his response, her entire self full of a raw emotion that had no name, Nayna glanced up and held his gaze. “No.” She tightened her hold a fraction and heard his breath catch. “I’m not sure I’m ready to have this large object inside me again.” Her cheeks burned hot, but she didn’t look away. “I want to play with it though.”
Raj shoved both hands through his hair. “I’m dead. You’re looking at a dead man.”
Her shoulders shook and she knew—it would only ever be like this with Raj. Leaning in, she pressed a kiss to the spot on his navel where the furred trail disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. His hand came back to her head, this time to curl around her nape. And his cock, it twitched under her touch.
Catching her lower lip with her teeth, Nayna undid the button on his jeans and took extreme care while lowering the zipper. He was wearing black boxer briefs, but releasing his cock from those wasn’t in any way difficult—the smooth, hard length was already attempting to escape.
When Nayna closed her fingers gently around him, he went so motionless that she thought he must’ve stopped breathing. Glancing up, she saw veins popping out on his arms, sweat dampening his chest… but his eyes were open.
Watching, as he liked to do.
Blush or not, Nayna held the dilated darkness of his eyes and decided to have one more lick. This time, it wasn’t of his abs.
30
True Love Hurts
Raj sat across from Nayna at one of the outdoor tables of a bustling restaurant. The two of them had ventured out when hunger struck. Nayna wore her lightweight jacket, and Raj had thrown on the hoodie he’d packed, but otherwise they were in jeans and T-shirts. The people around them were a wild mix—some dressed as casually as Nayna and Raj, others wearing formal black dresses or crisp shirts.
The staff served everyone with equal cheer under the orange-gold evening sunlight.
“Does this count as a date?” Nayna asked after they’d ordered, her chin propped up on her hands. “I’ve never been on a date.”
Raj bracketed her feet between his sprawled-out legs. “After what you did to me in that cabin, Nayna with the sundar nayna, it can be whatever you like.” He was no poet, but she gave a delighted smile at his play on the meaning of her name.
“No one’s ever said I had pretty eyes before.” She batted her lashes.
“I think you mean ‘fine eyes.’”
Her smile turned into a grin at his reference to her favorite book, but their server returned right then with their drinks, and the next minute or two was taken up with getting the drinks placed on the table and taking sips.
“Raj.” Nayna’s tone had become solemn. “If you support me in moving out, it’ll turn my parents against you.” A hard swallow. “They love you right now.”
“Let me deal with that.” Raj had taken on tougher opponents than Shilpa and Gaurav Sharma—and his priority was Nayna. “The most important thing is to make sure you come out of this unscathed.”
Nayna’s face fell. “Never going to happen.” Raw words, not the least bit flippant.
Because Nayna Sharma loved deeply and unconditionally.
Raj wanted that fierce force of love in his life, wanted to be able to take it for granted. Not as her family did, abusing her generous nature. But in a way that was his anchor. Never worrying, because it was a constant.
Until then, until she trusted him enough to give him her heart, he’d hold her declaration about wanting to keep him always, at the surface of his thoughts. No old demons would get between him and Nayna; Raj wouldn’t allow it.
“My father will never forgive me for disrupting his plans,” Nayna added. “And my mother… she’s his wife. She’s always stood with him.” A deep breath. “Aji will stay in touch, I’m sure.” She gave a shaky smile. “She’s having a love affair of her own.”
Raj tried to imagine the pure-Hindi-speaking, white-sari-clad elderly lady he’d met having a love affair and hit a mental blank. Until he thought of what Nayna might be like at that age, and suddenly it wasn’t such a hard thing to visualize. Because Nayna would still be as lovely, as brilliant.
“The first thing we have to do is find you a place,” he said as their fish and chips arrived on the table.
* * *
However, getting into an apartment proved easier said than done. The rental market in Auckland was well beyond capacity. Laptop open in front of her as she sat in bed after dinner, Nayna called up landlord after landlord, only to be told there was already a waiting list for the advertised rentals.
Raj, who’d slipped down to lie on his back with one arm bent behind his head and his eyes on the screen of her laptop, frowned. “That’s too far out,” he said when she pulled up another listing. “It’d add two hours to your commute every day.”
“A long commute might be the only realistic option.”
Raj was silent for a minute before saying, “I have an idea.” After asking her to pass him his phone, which he’d left on the bedside table beside her, he called a number and said, “Ping, how’re you doing?”
Nayna listened as he asked the other man about a property that Ping had been rehabbing. “Is it ready for a tenant?” He listened while his friend spoke. “Yeah, I’ll vouch for her,” he said after about thirty seconds. “That’s all?” Another pause. “You give her the place and I’ll finish up the job for you at no cost.”