~Kiara Simha's POV~
___
His lips crushed against mine , and I didn’t even try to resist.
Five years of buried fury, heartbreak, longing — it all exploded in that kiss. His mouth was rough, demanding, like he wanted to punish me and worship me at the same time. And God help me, I kissed him back with equal fire. My nails dug into his shirt, pulling him closer, as if distance was poison and I needed him to breathe.
He lifted me without warning, strong hands gripping my waist, and set me down on the cold marble countertop. The shock of it jolted a gasp from me, but he swallowed the sound, his tongue sliding against mine, taking, claiming. My thighs instinctively parted around him, caging him closer.
I hated how natural it felt. How my body remembered him even when my heart screamed in protest.
“I hate you,” I whispered against his mouth, but it came out broken, desperate, nothing like hate.
“Liar,” he growled, teeth grazing my bottom lip before he kissed me deeper, harder, like he could erase the last seven years in one breath-stealing moment.
His hand cradled the back of my neck, the other anchored at my hip, holding me in place as if he knew I’d try to run. But I didn’t. Not yet. Because in that stolen, reckless moment, I didn’t want to.
My head spun, not from the alcohol but from him — the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his chest pressed into mine, the taste of memories I had sworn I’d forgotten.
I should have stopped. I should have pushed him away.
Instead, I leaned forward, chasing his mouth like the fool I was.
That was when the bathroom stall creaked open, and a girl stumbled out, her eyes widening at the sight of us.
Reality shattered.
I shoved him back, hard, my breath ragged. My legs swung off the counter, heels clacking against the floor as I stumbled away from him.
“What the hell is your problem?” My voice shook, my chest burning as if I’d swallowed fire.
He said nothing, just stood there, lips swollen, eyes burning like a storm he refused to unleash.
And just as I started to walk away his next words stopped me in my tracks. "You".
And just like that he walked right past me. The girl was still staring at me, but I couldn't care less.
I just needed a drink. Or maybe two drinks.
___
The club’s air felt thicker, heavier, as I pushed through the crowd to where my best friends were. Myra, Tara, and Divya were already on the dance floor, laughing like the carefree girls I wished I still was.
“Kiaraaa!” Tara squealed, waving me over, her glass held high. “Finally!”
I forced a smile and took the drink Divya shoved into my hand. “You’re late,” she teased, already tipsy.
Good. I needed this. I needed something strong enough to numb the taste of him, the ache of him.
The first glass went down like water. The second burned less. By the third, the music pulsed through my veins louder than my thoughts.
We danced, arms raised, hair loose, sweat and perfume mixing with the air. I laughed—God, I laughed. Maybe too loud, maybe too desperate, but for a moment, I felt free.
But even drunk, even surrounded by strangers, even when the bass shook the ground beneath me—his eyes found me.
I felt them. On me. Heavy. Dark. Claiming.
I turned, and there he was. Across the room, leaning against the wall, drink in hand, gaze locked on me like I was the only thing that existed. He didn’t blink. He didn’t smile. He just… watched.
And for reasons I couldn’t explain, that made my skin heat more than the alcohol ever could.
I leaned into Myra, giggling, “He’s staring at me.”
“Who?”
“Him.” My eyes flicked back, and Myra followed my gaze.
Her mouth twisted. “Ishaan Malhotra.”
The name was enough to sober me for a second, but then the liquor pulled me under again. I spun, hair flying, letting strangers’ eyes trail over me, not caring. Or maybe caring too much.
But no matter who looked, no matter how many men whispered or reached out, I only felt his stare.
And when one man dared put his hand on my waist, He moved.
---
One second I was laughing, the next my wrist was caught in his hand. Firm. Possessive. Unyielding.
“Enough.” His voice was low, sharp against the pounding music.
“Ishaan—”
“You’re drunk.”
“So what?” I shot back, swaying slightly, glaring up at him. “I can take care of myself.”
His jaw flexed. “Not with vultures circling you like this.”
“Maybe I like the attention.” I smiled, though it felt more like a taunt.
His eyes darkened. “Don’t test me, Kiara.”
Before I could argue, he dragged me out of the crowd, his grip unrelenting. My friends called after me, but the music swallowed their voices.
“I can walk, you know,” I muttered, stumbling anyway.
He didn’t answer. He just pulled me outside into the cooler night air, where his car was already waiting.
“Where are you taking me?” I demanded, my words slurring now.
“Somewhere safe.”
---
The hotel room smelled of cedar and expensive silence. He shut the door behind us, and for the first time all night, the world stilled.
“I’m not staying here,” I declared, though my knees wobbled.
“You’re too drunk to go home.”
“I’ll call my driver.”
“You can’t even dial your phone right now.” His voice was maddeningly calm.
I hated him. God, I hated him. And yet… when he tried to let go of my hand, I held tighter.
“No.”
He looked at me, surprised. “No?”
I swallowed, throat thick. “Don’t let go.”
Something flickered in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything. He just guided me to the bed, and when I collapsed onto it, he sat on the edge.
I tugged at his hand until he lay down beside me.
“Kiara—”
“Just… don’t.” My voice cracked. “Not tonight.”
For a long moment, he was still. Then, slowly, he lay down. Not touching, but close enough that I could feel his warmth.
My drunk mind betrayed me again. The words slipped out before I could stop them.
“You look… good.” My lips curved in a lazy smile. “Better than I remember.”
His breath hitched.
“But it doesn’t matter,” I added quickly, tears stinging my eyes. “Because I still see you in that room. With her. And I hate you for it.”
Silence. Heavy, suffocating.
“I hate you,” I whispered, even as my body curled closer to him.
And then, sleep claimed me.
---
The morning light was cruel. Too bright, too honest.
My head pounded as I stirred, groaning. My hand was tangled in something warm, solid.
I blinked, and my breath caught.
Ishaan.
In bed. Next to me.
His arm under my head, his face so close I could see the shadow of stubble on his jaw, the steady rise and fall of his chest.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Oh. My. God.
What the hell did I just do?
---
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