Khushi’s eyes widened to the point he could see tiny caramel flecks in the tawny depths.
Damn, he’d said the wrong thing, blurted his innermost thoughts. Stupid, considering they’d grown closer on the ride over here. He’d seen her visibly thawing, relaxing, as she unobtrusively leaned toward him, her shoulders slack, her eyes rarely leaving his, focused on him, on every word.
Now he expected the shutters to come slamming down, blocking him out, but she surprised him again—the first time had been turning up at their rendezvous point half an hour ago—her mouth curving into a beguiling smile he never knew she possessed.
“You say the most outrageous things.”
Happy she hadn’t reverted to shy and withdrawn, he hopped down from the rickshaw, paid the driver and held out his hand to help her down.
“All true.”
He only just caught her mumbled “bollocks,” the English curse sounding funny spilling from her Indian lips, before he remembered her addiction to movies.
Stepping down from the rickshaw like a queen from a diamond-encrusted carriage, she released his hand as soon as her feet touched ground.
“A bit difficult to start the rest of my life with someone I know nothing about.”
Slinging his backpack higher on his shoulder, he gestured to the shade of a nearby palm tree. “What do you want to know?”
Her soft touch on his arm shocked him more than the depth of feeling in her eyes.
“Everything.”
He mentally punched the air, ecstatic she’d finally acknowledged the connection between them, the underlying, undeniable conviction that whatever they’d started yesterday on Colva Beach had to be seen through to fruition.
“Everything, huh? Well, let’s settle in for the long haul.”
Whipping a muslin sheet from his backpack, he settled it on the ground, unzipping the cooler bag as she sat, making quick work of the small picnic he’d brought.
“Wow, you fit all that in there?”
“Thought we might work up an appetite.”
She blushed, the faintest pink staining her olive cheeks as he wondered exactly how inexperienced with men she was. There was something about her, an untouched quality, and while she must’ve had other relationships, he mulled over how she managed to come out so unscathed.
“With all the talking while we get to know each other,” he clarified when his earlier declaration had reduced her to silence.
Taking a soda bottle he offered her, she raised it in his direction. “Start talking then.”
“Born and bred in Melbourne, Australia’s most beautiful city.”
“I thought that was Sydney?”
She was teasing him, her melodious, singsong accent filled with amusement.
“And you would know because…?”
“Movies, of course.”
“Ah…and the big screen never lies.”
Laughing at his fake indignation, she sipped at her soda and waved him on.
“Continue.”
“I’m a doctor.”
Her lips parted in a surprised, tempting O.
“You thought I was a bum?”
He tugged at the ends of his too-long hair, ran a hand across his stubbled jaw. “Don’t let appearances fool you. I can be pretty respectable when I want to be.”
She should’ve laughed, smiled at least. Instead, a cloud scudded across her eyes, darkened her expression.
“Let me guess, you’ve had a bad experience with the medical profession.”
She shook her head, her glossy black hair falling in a curtain to shield her face, effectively hiding her expression. “I’m just not into appearances.”
She was hiding something. Hunched shoulders, quick look away, evasive response. He was an expert at reading people, had honed the skill by moving through the foster-care system over the years. It had helped him evade a beating on more than once occasion, had held him in good stead when he finally made it to med school and had to blend in with the majority of upper-class, private school–educated students.
Quelling the urge to discover what lay behind her discomfort, he pointed to his clothes. “As you can see by my extensive designer wardrobe, neither am I.”
The corners of her mouth twitched; he’d achieved his goal to distract. “What else do you want to know? Height? Weight? Shoe size?”
While her mouth curved in a smile, it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Why are you really here?”
“In Goa?”
“India.” She pushed her hair out of her face, fixed him with a curious stare. “A year is a long time to travel.”
It was his turn to squirm a little. He wanted to woo her, win her, not bore her with his convoluted life story.
“Six years at med school, a year’s internship takes its toll. I wanted a break before I get back into all that.”
A half-truth that said as much as he wanted yet said so little.
“Why India?”
Another question too close to the truth and he offered her a plate of bondas, his favorite deep-fried potato snack.
“I’ve always wanted to visit and while I was here, I wanted to see it all.”
She appeared satisfied with his answer and he exhaled, unaware he’d been holding his breath.
“So what’s been your favorite place?”
Back on safe ground, he relaxed, placing the plate between them when she refused the snacks.
“Places, more like it. Staying on a houseboat in Kerala was special. The Ajanta caves in Maharashtra. Seeing the Taj for the first time.”
Her wistful smile reached into his chest, wrapped around his heart and squeezed, hard. “I’ve always wanted to see it.”
“You will one day.”
“You think? The farthest I’ve been is Mumbai and that was for work.”
“You have plenty of time to explore the world.”
He paused, weighed his next words carefully, knowing it was too soon but seized by a sudden recklessness to push the boundaries, see how far she’d let him go. “First stop Melbourne, I hope.”
Her eyebrows shot up, her mouth a cute little scoff. “In your dreams.”
“Oh, it’s in my dreams all right.”
If he hadn’t pushed things enough with his declaration, he decided to take it all the way now.
“I dreamed about you last night.”
His hand snaked across the blanket, covered hers, the slight tremble of her fingers indicative of the incredible awareness between them.
“I dreamed about the first moment you looked at me, the first time you smiled, the first time you let me hold your hand.”
He lifted her hand to his lips, his gaze locked on hers, as he kissed every knuckle, every fingertip, savoring the flare of heat, of frantic need, in those seductive golden depths.
“I dreamed about today.”
He released her hand, trailed his fingertips up her arm, across her shoulder until he was cradling her head.
“I dreamed about what it would be like to do this.”
With a gentleness that hid the desperate drive to kiss her senseless, he brushed his lips across hers.
Once.
Twice.
Tempting her to match him, to want him, to kiss him right back.
She hesitated, their breaths mingling with their mouths inches apart, his hand deliberately stilling in her hair despite the urge to drag her forward and quench his insatiable thirst for her.
A second stretched to two, three, and just when he’d given up hope she felt half as much for him as he did for her, she grabbed him, bunched his T-shirt and yanked him forward, closing the short gap between them and plastering her lips to his.
It was a hot, passionate, no-holds-barred kiss.
A hungry kiss driven by pent-up frustration and blind need.
A kiss to end all kisses.
A kiss to build a future on.
No comments:
Post a Comment