Page 143 of Okay Boss
His hands trembled, actually trembled, as he removed the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger. It fit perfectly.
"I got your ring size from Mom," he said quietly, reading her thoughts. "Had this made two weeks ago. Been carrying it everywhere, waiting for the right moment. Wanted it to be quiet. Private. Just us."
He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the ring, then her knuckles, then the inside of her wrist where her pulse hammered visibly.
"But you needed witnesses. Needed it public and undeniable." He kissed her palm. "Needed me to choose you in front of everyone so you couldn't tell yourself I was just being kind in private."
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry I needed that. Sorry I couldn't just believe…"
"Don't." He silenced her with another kiss, this one softer but no less consuming. "Don't apologize for protecting yourself. For being scared. For not believing that someone like me could love someone like you, even though you have it exactly backwards."
"Backwards?"
"You think you're lucky I chose you." His smile held no humor, just painful honesty. "I'm the one who got lucky. You're the one who's extraordinary. I'm just the actor who was smart enough to see it."
She shook her head, but he caught her face in his hands again.
"You're brilliant and stubborn and so determined to be invisible that you don't see how you light up every room you enter. You're kind without expecting anything in return. You're competent without being arrogant. You're real in a world of performance. And I get to keep you."
His voice dropped to something almost reverent.
"I get to wake up next to you. Fall asleep holding you. Listen to you hum off-key. Learn every detail you think doesn't matter. I get to keep you. That's not you getting lucky, Divya. That's me winning the only thing that ever really mattered."
She pulled him down to her, kissing him with everything she couldn't say, with walls crumbling, with years of not believing she could have this, with the overwhelming relief of finally, finally, letting herself want something and getting to keep it.
He responded immediately, the gentleness giving way to hunger again. His hands slid from her face to her waist, then lower, pulling her up to stand, pulling her hips flush against his.
She gasped into his mouth at the contact, at the unmistakable evidence of how much he wanted her.
"Vikram," she breathed against his lips.
His hands tightened on her hips, pulling her even closer, letting her feel exactly what she did to him. "Do you feel that?" His voice had gone rough, almost hoarse. "Do you feel what you do to me? What you've been doing to me for months?"
She nodded, unable to form words, her face burning.
"I've wanted you," he said against her mouth, between kisses that grew more desperate, more consuming. "God, Divya, I'vewanted you so badly. Every night sleeping next to you, feeling you curl against me in your sleep, breathing in the scent of your hair..." His hands slid up her sides, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts through the thin cotton. "Do you know how hard it's been not to touch you? Not to claim what's mine?"
A sound escaped her throat, half whimper, half moan.
"Tell me to stop." His forehead pressed against hers, his breathing ragged. "If you're not ready. If this is too fast. Tell me to stop and I will. I swear I will."
She pulled back just enough to look at him. At the man who'd learned to make chai for her at dawn. Who'd declared his love on national television. Who'd given her time and space and patience even when she'd used all three to build walls between them.
At the man who was looking at her now like she was everything.
"Don't stop," she whispered. "Please don't stop."
Something blazed in his eyes, fierce and possessive and hungry.
"Say it again."
"Don't stop, Vikram." Stronger this time. "I want this. I want you."
His control visibly frayed. His hands slid under the hem of her kurta, palms hot against the bare skin of her waist.
"Can I take this off?"
"Yes."
