Continuation of book Veil of Desire's Chapter 24: Breathless Nightis available here… 👀🔥

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In midnight

Arnav stirred in his sleep, breath uneven, brows furrowed. Something felt different. A soft, warm presence brushed against him, too real to ignore. His body stilled, muscles tightening in awareness.

His eyes fluttered open-still hazy from slumber. And then he froze.

Khushi.

She was there. Lying right beside him.

In the same pink saree she had worn that evening. The delicate fabric shimmered in the silver glow of moonlight streaming through the curtains. For a heartbeat, his mind scrambled for logic. "Why is she here? How?" And then it struck him-the massage. The soothing touch that had lulled him to sleep.

"Aisa lagta hai... woh mere paas hi so gayi... (It feels like... she fell asleep right here...)"

But then his gaze dipped lower-and his pulse spiked.

She wasn't just beside him. She was wrapped against him. Her soft back curved perfectly into his chest, her body melting into his as if she had always belonged there. Her hair fanned out like silk over the pillow, and the faint scent of roses clung to the air, tormenting his senses.

His breath hitched, coming hard and shallow. His body tightened instantly, a primal heat curling deep inside him.

No, This wasn't just a touch. This was temptation. Dangerous. Consuming.

Slowly-almost reverently-his hand slid across the mattress until his fingers brushed the delicate arch of her waist. One touch, and a jolt of fire ripped through him. His mind stalled. His body didn't care. His restraint shattered.

Right now, his mind was in pause mode. His hands were moving on their own, his desires awakening. Seeing her this close, bathed in moonlight, glowing like a dream-she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Innocent. Yet devastatingly tempting.

With infinite care, he slid his arm around her waist, feeling her softness under his grip, and gently rolled her toward him. The motion brought her flush against his chest-their breaths mingling, heartbeats colliding in a wild, unspoken rhythm.

And then... her face.

God.

She turned slightly, and he saw her-bathed in silver light, glowing like something celestial. Even in sleep, her pallu clung stubbornly to her nose-a veil of modesty she guarded even in dreams. That made him want her even more. Want to strip every barrier between them.

His gaze trailed lower, and the air caught in his throat.

Her saree had shifted-pooling at her knees, baring slender, fair legs stretched out languidly across the sheets. An anklet shimmered against her ankle, the tiny bells silent yet seductive.

His eyes moved higher-slow, sinful -to the curve of her thighs, the delicate hollow of her waist... and then-oh God-the flawless expanse of her belly, smooth and tempting, her navel gleaming like a secret meant only for him.

His throat went dry. He couldn't stop. Didn't want to.

His fingers hovered... then lowered. And finally, his palm rested against her bare belly. Heat seared his skin, spreading like wildfire. Her body trembled-ever so slightly-at the contact.

A sound caught in his throat. Desire coiled tight inside him. His eyes followed the rise and fall of her chest-fast, uneven, in perfect sync with his ragged breaths. The thin blouse clung obscenely to the perfect curves of her breasts, every outline screaming temptation.

He swallowed hard, but it did nothing to quench the thirst.

Then-her eyes.

Through the soft veil, he saw them. Open. Awake.

Dark pools of intensity, locked onto him with an emotion he couldn't name. Something wild. Something innocent.

Their gazes collided. Held.

And then his eyes slipped lower-to her lips. God, those lips.

Slightly parted. Lush. A delicate blush of pink. They weren't just lips. They were an invitation. A challenge.

His restraint snapped.

With a groan torn from deep within his chest, he leaned in-his lips brushing hers, a whisper of contact that ignited every nerve in his body. Testing. Tempting. Then deeper, hungrier. His hand gripped her waist as his mouth claimed hers-desperate, consuming, like a man starved for years.

Her breath hitched. He felt it. Her fingers curled-then slid into his hair, tugging, pulling him closer instead of pushing away. That was all the permission he needed.

The kiss deepened, hungry now. His mouth moved over hers, slow at first, then desperate, consuming. Their breaths tangled, heat pooling between them. Khushi gasped, her body arching up to meet his as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth to tangle with hers.

His hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve and dip. His fingers traced the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the length of her thighs. Khushi moaned into his mouth, her own hands moved to his back, She pulled him closer, desperate to feel more of him against her.

He rolled her gently onto her back, caging her beneath him without breaking the kiss. Her hands clutched his shirt, then his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as her body arched into his. Heat exploded everywhere they touched-his chest against her breasts, his thigh sliding between hers.

Arnav broke the kiss only to trail his lips along her jaw... grazing her neck with feather-light kisses before sucking gently at the hollow of her throat. She shivered under him, her nails biting into his shoulder.

He nipped at her skin, his teeth grazing over her pulse point as he sucked and licked at the sensitive flesh.

Khushi whimpered, her head falling back against the pillow as she gave herself over to the sensations. Arnav's hands continued their exploration.

And then he moved-lower.

The pallu slipped aside, unnoticed. His lips traveled down, caressing her collarbone, then her chest, lingering dangerously close to where her blouse rose and fell with every rapid breath. His lips worshipped the swell of her breasts through the thin fabric, his tongue circling, teasing mercilessly, before his teeth nipped lightly at the hardened peak.

"Ahh Arnav.." A soft sound escaped her lips-a moan so delicate, so breathy, it shattered what little sanity he had left.

He moved down, kissing every inch of her trembling body-her ribs, her waist, then pushing the saree aside inch by inch, until his mouth met the smooth expanse of her soft belly. He wasn't just kissing-he was worshipping every inch of her body. And she felt it in every cell of her being, with every kiss, every touch of him.

Her body quivered under him, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as his tongue traced the delicate hollow of her navel.

"Ahh..." The sound-soft, breathless-ripped through his restraint.

She clutched his hair, pulling him closer, grounding and urging all at once. Her nails scraped lightly against his scalp, and he groaned into her skin.

He kissed her navel-slow at first, then deeper, harder-his tongue teasing the hollow, his teeth grazing gently. Her soft whimper sliced through the haze, making his blood roar.

He kissed his way up again, devouring her lips with fierce urgency, tasting the sweetness of her moans as she tried-failed-to keep them in.

His hand slid up, he cupped her left breast over her blouse and kissed her right one. She gasped sharply. Arnav again moved to her lips-this time kissing more passionately, his tongue delving into her mouth to tangle with hers.

He pressed her left breast first gently, then start kneading them more firmly. He rolled her nipple between his fingers over the thin fabric, pinching and tugging at the hard peak until Khushi was panting with need. She writhed under him, her hips lifting, begging for more.

"Aaaaahhh.." A loud moan spilled from her against his lips. The sound shattered him completely.

Desire flooded his veins. He needed more. God, more.

With desperate fingers, he worked at her blouse, his lips never leaving hers. One button slipped open. Then another. The third followed, slow, tormenting.

And then he saw it-the luscious swell of her boobs, barely restrained, the peaks straining against the thin fabric, begging for his touch.

His gaze darkened to molten heat. A guttural growl tore from his chest as he lowered his head, lips parting to taste-

Gasp.

.

.

.

His eyes flew open.

A sharp, ragged breath tore through his throat as he shot upright, chest heaving like he'd just run for miles. Sweat clung to his skin, trickling down the tense lines of his neck. His fists clenched in the sheets, his entire body trembling from the aftershocks of what had just consumed him.

For two whole minutes, his brain refused to function-still caught between that dream and the crushing weight of reality. His gaze darted around the dark room, desperate, searching for... her.

But there was nothing.

No trace. No whisper. No scent.

Reality crashed down like a bucket of ice water.

It was just a dream.

Only... his body told a different story-hard, throbbing, desperate for release. His pants were unbearably tight, his arousal impossible to ignore.

"F*ck..." The curse ripped out of him, harsh and broken, as he dragged a shaking hand through his damp hair. His heart pounded wildly against his ribs, as if trying to escape his chest.

Her phantom taste lingered on his lips. Her breathy moan curled like smoke in his ears, seductive, soft, sinful. The way she arched beneath him, surrendering yet wild-it seared into his skin like molten heat, refusing to fade.

He shut his eyes tight, but the images hit harder. The silk of her sari slipping like liquid fire over his fingers. The curve of her bare waist, trembling under his touch. That one maddening sound-a gasp that shattered him completely.

"What the hell is happening to me? What is wrong with me?" His voice was hoarse, strangled, breaking under the weight of his own need. He swung his legs off the bed, forcing himself to move, but his body felt heavy, like it belonged to someone else. Shaky legs. Unsteady heart.

It wasn't just lust.

God help him, it couldn't be.

Because the way he wanted her-wasn't just to touch her, to take her-it was to keep her. To hold her close enough that the world could never touch her. To guard her, to protect her, to claim every part of her soul as his.

That wasn't desire.

That was something darker. Something deeper.

Something dangerously close to love.

"Damn it..." He muttered through gritted teeth, stalking toward the bathroom like a man possessed, each step a war he was losing.

A cold shower. He needed a cold shower. Needed to drown this fever clawing through his veins. To numb the ache that pulsed in his blood, in his bones, in the most sinful parts of him.

Because at three f*cking o'clock in the morning, one girl draped in a sari-A girl whose face he hadn't even seen-Was destroying him without even knowing it.

She didn't know what she was doing to him. Without lifting a finger, she had burned herself into his very soul. And no amount of ice, no amount of self-control could put out this fire.

Another curse escaped as he twisted the shower knob, icy water cascading over him. He leaned against the bathroom wall, palms flat, water running cold and relentless, but nothing could silence the truth pounding in his chest-louder than the water, louder than his curses.

He was falling.

Helplessly. Brutally. Completely. And this time...

he didn't know how to stop. But he refused-refused-to admit it. How could he? How could a man like him fall in love with a woman he hadn't even seen? Yet his body betrayed him. His heart betrayed him worse.

Because while he cursed himself for dreaming of her like this, his traitorous mind still wanted to hold on to that dream. To feel her again. To taste that moment. To believe it was real-just for a second longer.

"F*ck..." he whispered again, this time softer, broken, as he pressed his forehead to the mirror, his breath fogging the glass.

He wanted to hate himself for craving her. But the truth? He couldn't.

Because even now, with the cold water biting his skin, deep down he wished it wasn't a dream.