“I imagine… being them. Or being seen by you while I want you. I imagine your voice in my ear, asking for things you haven’t asked me for. I imagine your hands. Your mouth. Your Breasts, Ass and your Pussy. I imagine you telling me to stop pretending.”
She inhaled sharply. Her chest rose. Her thighs pressed gently together.
But still—no touch.
Only tension.
Pure. Lethal.
“I see you,” she whispered.
He froze.
“I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching. I feel the air change when you enter the room. I’ve felt it for weeks.”
“And?”
She stepped closer now, their bodies almost touching.
“I haven’t decided yet,” she said, voice steady but raw. “Whether it’s something I’m supposed to resist… or surrender to.”
He didn’t speak.
His hand twitched at his side.
But he didn’t reach for her.
And she didn’t move.
Instead, she leaned in—not to kiss him—but to whisper at his jawline.
“Go to your room.”
He swallowed. “Why?”
“Because if you stay here another second,” she said, “I might not want to resist at all.”
And with that, she stepped away—slowly, eyes lingering on his.
She didn’t look back as she walked down the hallway.
And he didn’t move.
Not for a long, long time.
Chapter XXXIII: A Line Once Crossed
The silence after she walked away was deafening.
Vivek stood in the kitchen long after the echo of her footsteps had faded. His skin was on fire. His breath shallow. The candle flame flickered, throwing sharp light against the tiles, illuminating the truth he could no longer bury.
She knew.
She had always known.
And she hadn’t pushed him away.
She had told him to go.
But not because she didn’t want him to stay.
Because if he had, something would’ve happened neither of them could undo.
And yet…
He moved.
Not like someone walking.
Like someone drawn.
He reached her door and paused. It was open just a crack. Enough to tempt. Enough to test.
The room was dim—lit only by the gold glow of a single bedside candle. Her silhouette moved slowly, back turned, robe sliding off her shoulders like water cascading down silk.
She was unwrapping herself like a gift she wasn’t sure she would give.
But when he stepped into the doorway, she didn’t startle.
She turned.
Met his eyes.
No words.
Only breath.
A shared truth suspended between them.
Vivek closed the door behind him.
Kalpana stood still in the golden candlelight, the robe loose at her elbows, chest bare, soft curves framed in firelight. Her hair was wild down her back, her lips parted in something between desire and surrender.
He moved toward her slowly.
She didn’t reach for him.
Didn’t need to.
Her eyes said everything.
You’re here.
You want this.
So do I.
His hands reached up—tentative, trembling—and brushed the fabric off her shoulders completely. It slid to the floor without a sound.
He looked at her like a man seeing fire for the first time.
Not afraid.
Astonished.
His fingertips traced the curve of her collarbone, the rise of her breasts, the delicate skin at her waist. She gasped softly as he leaned in, lips brushing just below her jaw.
Her fingers found his shirt, lifted it slowly, pushed it up until it cleared his head. Her hands ran over his chest, nails grazing lightly.