Page 60 of Entangled Vows
A soft rustle broke the silence, and he turned his head.
Mahika stirred beneath the blanket, her brow twitching, her lashes fluttering. One slender arm stretched across the bed and landed on his bicep. Then, with a sleepy little sigh, she shifted closer and wrapped her fingers around his arm, tugging it to her chest like it was a damn teddy bear.
“Umm… you smell nice, Grizz...” she mumbled, her voice rough and sleepy. A voice that was too soft, too intimate.
And everything inside him stilled.
His pulse shot up, his arm tensing under her hold. It had to be random. People said all kinds of nonsense in their sleep. But the way she saidGrizz...
Well, fuck. That wasn’t random. That was him. No one else had ever earned that nickname from her. The realisation sent a sudden rush of heat crawling up his neck. He didn’t breathe, he didn’t move. He just stared at her. The mouth that usually launched snarky missiles at him was now slightly parted, her lips soft and flushed in sleep.
“Fuck me,” he muttered, raking a hand through his damp hair.
His entire body, his every muscle, was wound tight. Unwittingly, his mind wandered into dangerous territory. It would’ve been so much easier if she were just his bratty little brother’s best friend or Mohit’s annoying, know-it-all sister with too much attitude and zero power over him. But she wasn’t. She never had been. And as he lay there in the dark, one thought swirled stubbornly inside his mind and refused to let go.
She was going to be the death of him.
And somehow… it didn’t feel like a threat. It felt like a goddamn promise.
21
The first thing Mahika noticed as she stirred awake was sunlight streaming across her face. And comfort. Not the aching stiffness of a couch. This was soft and luxurious. The silky sheets brushed against her skin, and a comforter cocooned her like a cosy burrito. She shifted slightly, still half-asleep.
The second thing she registered was the warmth. The heat was solid, pressing against her from behind. It wasn’t the heat that came from a blanket or a sunny morning. No. This was different.
It was human warmth. So very male. So very close. She felt a warm weight circling her waist. It was firm and far too intimate, and her skin tingled beneath the touch.
She cracked open one eye.What in the world?
She was on the freaking bed. Not the couch.
She shifted slightly, and something shifted with her. A firm, muscled arm tightened around her waist, pulling her back against a hard chest. Her breath hitched. That was not a pillow. That was… Vikram. Her heart thundered against her ribs, her spine going stiff as a rod. She blinked once. Twice.
No. This couldn’t be real. But it fucking was.
She could feel his slow, steady breath on the back of her neck. The warmth and strength of his body pressed against hers in a way that somehow felt… right. She remembered curling up, exhausted, in the dim room, his scent comforting her like a favourite blanket. She didn’t remember agreeing to sleep in the same bed, or being lifted like a rag doll and tucked in like a real-life Sleeping Beauty.
She wasn’t some ghost floating through luxury linens, which meant someone had carried her. Correction… not someone.Hehad. Only one man had the audacity, the physical strength, and the alpha male control-freak energy to do something like that without a second thought.
Mahika gritted her teeth as she slowly, carefully peeled his arm off her waist, inch by inch. His hand resisted, his fingers tightening as if they had a mind of their own. Her breath hitched when they brushed against the sliver of exposed skin where her T-shirt had ridden up. A sudden, searing bolt of desire licked up her skin, and she jerked away as if a roaring blaze had burned her.
She scrambled out of bed, the cold floor jolting her feet awake. Crossing her arms, she stood at its edge and glared down at her husband of one day.
He was still asleep, sprawled across the bed like a fallen demigod. His one arm lay over his stupidly attractive face, and the other rested on his toned stomach. His chest rose and fell in the slow and peaceful rhythm of deep slumber. The stubble on his jaw was darker now, like shadows sharpening it into something dangerous. He looked… unfairly good, like a sin wrapped up in morning calm.
Shit!
He looked so handsome that her throat went dry. And in that moment, she hated him. She hated how her eyes lingered on his sharp, chiselled face, and how her mind painted wicked fantasies, each one more vivid than the last. Fantasies that had no business existing… like the way she desperately wanted to trail her tongue from the curve of his Adam’s apple to the sharp angle of his jaw, just to feel the rough scrape of his stubble against her lips.
Mahika swallowed hard, trying to blink the thoughts away. She was so pissed. She was supposed to hate him.
Clearly, he could have let her sleep on the couch. But no. He’d decided on her behalf. Again. Did he seriously think he could just lift her up, tuck her into his bed like some precious parcel, and she’d sleep there every night, all docile, like a good little wife?
Well, if he thought that, he was clearly forgetting who she was. Hah! She was not going to play by his rules. If he thought this one year of marriage meant she’d quietly melt into domesticity, he was in for a rude, spicy awakening.
She marched to the bathroom; her steps charged with purpose. Today, she’d show him exactly what happened when he tried to assert control over her personal space.
Once inside, she went through her morning routine and then stepped into the shower. The warm water washed away the tiredness of the night, but amplified every other feeling tied to him, leaving her flustered. When she stepped out of the foggy bathroom, Vikram was gone from the bedroom. She frowned in confusion.Did he seriously wake up and run away? Whatever.
