Page 57 of Since the Night We Met
‘You gave me a task, Siya,’ Abhay interjected calmly.
The way he said it—as if it justified his words, his actions, the way he made it difficult to breathe—only made her pulse flare hotter. She curled her hands into fists, the dry mehendi crumbling into pieces in her grip as her nails dug into the flesh.
‘That was before I realised you’d turn it into some kind of twisted game in a bid to find new ways to hurt me.’ Her words were coated in more bitterness than rage.
A muscle in his jaw twitched as he asked in a low voice, ‘Is that what you think I’m doing?’
‘Yes! You’re trying to remind me of a night that should’ve died a long time ago. Stop torturing me!’ Siya said, stepping closer, eyes locked onto him.
She didn’t realise how close they’d gotten. Her face hovered inches away from his, close enough to see how his eyes appeared black even in sunlight. For a moment, Siya couldn’t remember what they were fighting over.
Abhay stared at her for a long beat, the dark clouds casting shadows across his face. His jaw twitched, and even in the light, his eyes appeared all black, with no trace of any brown warmth. He set the glass down on the marbled table beside him.
‘Siya, you don’t know what torture is,’ he said, and she barely had time to gasp before he pinned her to the pillar behindher. Her back hit the cool stone and she was trapped in his arms, nowhere to go.
Despite the anger in his eyes, his fingers cradled the side of her face with a tenderness that made her stomach twist. His thumb brushed the curve of her cheekbone, and she knew that for some reason she should pull away, but she didn’t move.
‘Torture is to be in a room with you and pretend like you’re not the only one I see. Torture is hearing your laugh and not being able to taste it. I don’t even let myself imagine kissing you anymore, because I know the second I do, I’ll never be able to stop. That’s torture, Siya, and I’mlivingin it.’
‘Then stop!’ she shouted, each syllable cutting sharp. ‘Stop acting like this marriage, this entire circus of it, means something to you. Stop making these gestures that make people think we’re in love. Just fucking stop!’
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘I do! I’m not yours,’ she declared.
‘You were, once,’ he reminded her in a strangled voice full of anguish.
She still was but she’d be damned if she gave him more ammunition to use against her. This was one fight she vowed to win.
Fury knotted in her throat. ‘What do you want? Why do you insist on stretching this charade until it bleeds us both dry. I don’t want the broken version of love you’re trying to sell me now,’ Siya held on desperately to the fleeting embers of anger. It would be far too easy to lean onto him otherwise. ‘None of it was real.’
He went rigid against her and he asked, ‘What did you just say?’
‘None of it mattered,’ she spat back. ‘I’ve had four years to realise I made it all bigger in my head. We were nothing more than a passing fling, that’s all.’
‘Don’t,’ he warned, his voice edged with fury so tightly wounded it gave her goosebumps. ‘Don’t you dare trivialise what we had as a meaningless encounter.’
He leaned closer, the space between them so narrow that she could smell the faint trace of his sandalwood cologne. He pulled her against him until her chest collided with his. A sudden sliver of heat curled up her spine. She hated how the words she wanted to throw at him were stuck in her throat like thorns.
When Abhay looked at her with possessive madness whirling in his stormy gaze, the truth she had been running from for days clawed its way back up through her flesh. Her body hadn’t gotten the memo that she was supposed to hate him.
‘When I kissed you that night, youmeltedfor me,’ he said, drawing out the word, and the way his arms wrapped around her waist made her eyes flutter close for a second. ‘You held onto me like you’d never let me go. I won’t let you stand here and call what we had a fling just because it hurts too much to admit that it mattered.’
‘I hate you,’ Siya hissed, the venomous words scraping her throat like shards of glass.
He didn’t retreat. Instead, his eyes darkened and his jaw clenched. He leaned so close that her breath tangled with his. ‘Then, my dear wife-to-be, let me show you just how much you hate me,’ he whispered.
Before she could suck in a breath to respond, Abhay crashed his lips onto hers. He pushed her back until she felt the cold stone bite into her spine. His other arm curled around her waist, dragging her against him, and her moan slipped into his mouth.
It was a fierce and bruising kiss, full of things they hadn’t said, couldn’t say, because words would never be enough to describe the bond between them. His palm splayed possessively across her hip and the intoxicating taste of his whiskey-laced lips made her toes curl inside her heels.
Siya gripped the collar of his kurta, crushing it in her fist as she pulled him closer. Her lips parted when he traced her lower lip with the tip of his tongue, and he deepened the kiss with a deep groan that rumbled through his chest. He kissed her like he was reclaiming life itself.
Abhay nestled between her legs and his hands slid down, one wrapped around her waist, with the other tracing the curve of her spine as if he was trying to memorise her all over again. She was trembling, and couldn’t tell if it was from nerves or the fact that they hadn’t been this close in four years and it was undoing her restraint.
He pulled back enough to breathe, his forehead resting against hers, and she realised she was clinging to him, panting for dear life. A tremor ran through her as a breeze swept by, and Abhay tucked a wildly swaying strand of hair behind her ear.
He indulged himself, running his finger down the curve of her neck. His eyes traced every flicker of emotion on her face. ‘You’re going to absolutely ruin me, aren’t you?’
