She marched out of her room and banged heavily on the bathroom door.
“Vyom!”
“Occupied hai bhai!”
“Pata hai mainu! Sirf do minute de de!
Andar aa javan?”
“Nahi, mainu dus minute lagenge!”
“Vyom, mainu bohot zor di aayi hai!”
“DUS MINUTE!” he yelled back over the rushing water.
She groaned in absolute frustration and grabbed the handle. It was locked. “Oh my god! Tune lock kyu kitta hai?!”
Vyom didn’t answer.
Urvin stomped away angrily, intending to pace the hallway. But the water suddenly stopped. Two minutes later, the lock clicked.
The door swung open, and a thick, suffocating cloud of hot, damp steam rolled out into the hallway. Vyom stepped out. He was soaking wet. A thin, white towel was slung dangerously low around his waist, clinging tightly to his narrow hips. Drops of hot water rolled down his broad, newly muscular chest, tracing the deep V-line of his flat stomach before disappearing into the white terrycloth.
They both froze, staring at each other.
Vyom was completely shocked to see her standing there. Her hair was up in a messy, chaotic bun, looking incredibly soft and domestic. And her legs… Fuck. The sudden realization hit him like a physical blow. Because she was tapping her foot and had crossed her arms angrily over her chest, the kurti had hitched up, and the deep side-slits were gaping wide open. The old cotton barely hid her panties. Her thick, creamy, completely bare thighs looked so incredibly soft, warm, and inviting under the harsh hallway light.
A heavy, dark, violent pulse throbbed instantly in his groin. His cock twitched aggressively against the wet towel, threatening to drop it. He quickly averted his eyes, staring hard at the ceiling, swallowing dryly before she could catch his forbidden, starving stare.
Urvin swallowed hard. The hot, damp steam escaping from the bathroom washed over her bare legs, contrasting sharply with the cool air of the hallway hitting her upper thighs. The sudden breeze made her terrifyingly aware of how dangerously exposed she was. She looked down and realized the side-slits of the kurti had completely betrayed her, leaving her practically naked from the waist down in front of her younger brother.
‘Hai Rabba… main nangi khadi haan iske samne,’ her mind panicked in absolute horror.
Her breath caught sharply in her throat. She instinctively reached down, her hands frantically pulling at the hem of the kurti, trying desperately to pull the slits together to cover her thick thighs. Her cheeks flushed a deep, burning crimson. But the damage was already done. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the way his Adam’s apple bobbed heavily. She saw that sharp, heavy swallow.
Without her permission, her body completely betrayed her mind’s deep shame. A hot, forbidden shiver ran straight up her spine. Her bare, creamy thighs automatically clamped tightly together. A sudden, terrifying rush of slick, hot wetness pooled instantly between her legs, making her lace panties sticky and uncomfortable. Her nipples hardened immediately into tight, aching points, poking sharply against the thin, paint-smeared cotton of her kurti. The raw, intoxicating, musky smell of his male sweat mixed with fresh soap filled her nose, making her head spin dizzily.
