Page 104 of Okay Boss
"That's hurtful, Mrs. Khanna." He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Are you calling me a liar?"
Mrs. Khanna.
The name hit differently than it had before. More intimate when it rolled out of his tongue. Claiming. Like he was reminding her, and himself, exactly what she was to him.
Her breath caught.
"I'm saying I don't remember doing that," she managed.
"Well, you were asleep." He paused, then added with perfect innocence: "So what were you dreaming about? Must have been good if you didn't want me to leave."
Her face burned. "I wasn't... it wasn't..."
"Were you dreaming about me?"
"I need my glasses." She gestured frantically toward the nightstand.
"They're right there." He nodded toward them but made no move to help.
She leaned across him to reach them, realized too late how close that brought her, and froze. He was watching her, not moving, just letting her hover there in the awkward space between them.
"Need help?" he offered.
"No." She snatched the glasses and shoved them onto her face.
The world snapped into sharp focus. Vikram's face came clear, the slight shadow of morning stubble, the warmth in his dark eyes, the curve of his mouth that held both mischief and something softer.
"Better?" he said softly.
She nodded mutely.
"So." He shifted slightly. "About what you said. Want to elaborate?"
"I wasn't dreaming," she managed, voice strangled.
"Pity. I was hoping for details."
The embarrassment was too much. Without thinking, she grabbed the nearest pillow and shoved it at his face, then fled.
The bathroom door closed behind her with more force than necessary. She leaned against it, eyes squeezed shut, willing her heart rate to return to normal.
She'd woken up wrapped around Vikram Khanna. Face pressed into his neck. Hand clutching his shirt. Leg tangled with his. And apparently she'd pulled him into bed. Told him she couldn't live without him.
And he'd called her Mrs. Khanna. Like it meant something.
She groaned, pressing her palms against her cheeks.
On the other side of that door, Vikram lay back against the pillows. The pillow she'd thrown lay beside him, still carrying her warmth.
Four weeks of rigid boundaries. Four weeks of careful distance. Four weeks of sleeping separately despite sharing a room.
Done. All of it, completely done.
She'd felt right against him. Better than he'd imagined during those long nights on the couch.
His mouth curved. The couch could collect dust from now on. He wasn't spending another night on it. His wife, even if she didn't fully accept the title yet, was going to sleep exactly where she'd woken up this morning.
In his arms.
