Page 79 of Protect my Heart
She stares at me for a second, her face breaks into a huge grin, and she nods, making me smile like an idiot.
We paint a little longer. Her lines are delicate and practiced. Mine are, well... chaotic. At one point, I look at her canvas and lean closer.
“Is that me?”
She tilts her head, thoughtful. “It was supposed to be.”
I look again. “Why do I look like a constipated ghost?”
She bursts out laughing—head thrown back, body shaking. That laugh. It’s everything. “Because you are,” she giggles, and I fake a gasp. A smirk stretched across my lips.
“That’s it. War.”
Her eyes widen. “Aarav, don’t you dare—”
But I’ve already dipped my brush in blue and flicked it gently toward her, making sure it doesn’t get on her dress because I don’t want to die young. A perfect streak lands on her arm.
She gasps. “You did not.”
“I absolutely did.”
She grabs a brush and lunges—blue smears my shirt, right over the chest pocket.
I blink. “This was new.”
She grins. “Now it’s art.”
“Art, huh?”
Before she can escape, I grab a handful of green and swipe it lightly across her cheek. She shrieks, laughing so hard she doubles over, and throws paint right back at me—her hands smearing color across my face and my neck.
Somewhere between our playful shouts and laughter, I grab her waist. She stumbles forward, and suddenly we’re nose to nose. Breathless. Covered in color. Her eyes lock with mine, and everything stills.
Her smile fades into something quieter. Her fingers, still paint-stained, curl gently around my collar. “You look ridiculous,” she whispers.
I grin. “You look beautiful.”
I don't know who moves first—her or me—but the kiss is soft and messy and perfect. Her lips taste like strawberry gloss and the adrenaline of being chased. My hands find her waist; hers tangle in my hair. It’s clumsy at first—like our paint strokes—but it deepens quickly and turns slower and needier. Like we’re trying to memorize each other all over again.
When we break apart, we’re both panting. I pin her against the table with another deep kiss, my tongue brushing hers, craving more. Her fingers clutch my arms, her body pressing into mine, making it clear she’s just as desperate asI am. I trail my lips down her neck, leaving a path of messy kisses, my teeth grazing against her skin. She shivers, her breath hitches as I reach the edge of her dress. “Are you wearing any underwear?” I growl, my hand sliding up her thigh.
She smiles slyly, her eyes darkening with lust. “What do you think?”
“I think I’m going to find out.” My hand slips under her dress, creeping higher, her breath hot against my neck.
“And if someone sees us?” She gasps, and I pause.
My hand is still on her thigh. “Let them,” I answer, my thumb brushing dangerously higher, “Let them all see how you’re mine, and mine only.”
“Aarav,” she whispers, her eyes wide and needy.
I pull her hips closer, my arousal clear against her. “Does it make you uncomfortable?” I nibble her collarbone, and she melts into me. Completely. Her lips find mine in a kiss that takes my breath away.
“No,” she says, bending on the table, “I am all yours to take, Mr. Malhotra.” She smirks slyly, and I groan. She knows she’s killing me. Her words, her confidence—it fuels the fire within me, erasing the last bit of restraint I had. I push her back on the table, the surface cool against her bare skin.
“Mine to take?” my voice was a gravelly whisper against the hollow of her throat. “You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed.”
I press my body against hers, trapping her against the table. My hands slide under her dress, slowly, savoring the journey. Her breath hitches, and her eyes flutter shut as I inserta finger inside her, rubbing her clit with my thumb. Her eyes roll back from pleasure.
