LOVE BIRDS (New Update*)

[naruto9211]

Nice start. Keep it up.

It takes a lot to write.. Thinking off situations, areas and locations from your life, things you often miss.. I waited for much better response. May be I'm not good. So I'm stopping after what i have already written.
Thank you.
Writing is a thankless job?

[trexpredator6]

You are great man , the plot is slow and more.romantic then sexual but it's good to read something different here.

[Curiousbull]

Ayesha was reserved as they walked the few blocks back to her yellow Mini Cooper.


Several times, Aditya caught her massaging her temples, but when he
asked if she had a headache, her response was an unintelligible mumble. He
would have thought she was doing the silent martyr act in retribution for his
supposed cheating, but that didn’t seem her style.

No, her style was leaving him without a single word. When Sunny had told
him she wanted to abandon him at the club, it’d sucker-punched Aditya in
the gut. The last person to leave him had been his dad. But where Aditya’s
dad had left him with an enormous mess to clean up, Ayesha had planned to
leave him with her car and her credit card. Who did that?

Even worse, he hadn’t deserved it. Either time.

Tonight, he’d been busy preventing his crazy ex-client from making an
enormous scene in front of Ayesha. Sarah was a true diva and loved drama in
all forms. Now that she’d finally succeeded in divorcing her crorepathi
husband—and taking half of his net worth—she wanted Aditya back. She
was willing to pay whatever it took.

She refused to accept that Aditya would rather fuck his way through
a Cactus farm than return to her bed. She’d detained him for long
minutes, tossing extravagant numbers at him before plastering her mouth to
his. He would forever associate the taste of cinnamon gum, cigarettes, and
whiskey with Sarah.

So different from Ayesha, who tasted like . . . mint chocolate chip ice cream.
They piled into her car, and she activated the AC, sank against the
backrest, and stared out the window, absently tapping her fingers on her
knees. He turned the radio on to break the silence, but she promptly turned it
back off. Her fingers resumed their tapping. It was hypnotic but a little
annoying.

He sent her a pointed look, but she didn’t notice.

If she was artistically talented on top of being
smart, successful, and gorgeous, she was officially his dream woman in the
flesh. And so far out of his league as to be laughable.

Even if he didn’t have all the shit associated with his dad dangling
between them, he had almost nothing a girl like her could want. There was his face and his body, but anyone could have that if they paid enough. 

Maybe she would have been attracted to the old him, the man who had been free to pursue his passions. There’d been a lot going for that guy. Aditya barely knew him anymore.



“She’s my crazy ex-client,” he said.

He felt the weight of Ayesha’s gaze on the side of his face. “The woman in
the club.”

“Yes.”

She lifted a hand toward the bridge of her nose. When she couldn’t adjust
her glasses, she clasped her neck instead. “Did you like kissing her?”

“I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me. But no, I didn’t like it.”

“Can you be very honest and answer one question for me?”

This was going to be interesting. “Yes.”

“Are you a different person when you’re with me?”

“You mean, if I bumped into you when you’re not my client anymore,
would I be a dick around you?” If she was no longer his client, she’d probably be with another man. 


He twisted his lips as a bad taste filled his mouth. “No.”

“Are you lying just to make me feel better?”

“Ayesha, I’ve never lied to you. 

You’re going to have to decide if you believe me.”


They didn’t speak for the rest of the drive. He drove up the driveway to
her smart, renovated cottage, complete with hedges and solar panels
on the roof, and parked in the surgically sterile two-car garage. Once he
turned off the car, her eyelids fluttered open.

“You’re home.”

She ran a hand over her sleep-matted hair. “I’m almost too tired to get out
of the car.”

“I can carry you.”

She aimed a sleepy smile at him, clearly thinking he was joking.


“I’m serious.” The idea of carrying her to bed was highly appealing at the
moment. 

He liked holding her, and as messed up as it was, he wanted to check
boxes. He hadn’t gone this long without fucking in three years, and seeing
Ayesha in that dress was giving him full-body blue balls.

“Don’t be silly.” She pawed her door open and stood up with movements
that were clumsy even for her. When he locked the car and met her at the door to her house, however, her eyes were steady. “I don’t have energy for lessons tonight.”


“It doesn’t have to be lessons.” He trailed his fingertips down her arm, and
her skin dotted with goose bumps. Her eyelids went heavy, her eyes sensual.

Beautiful Ayesha. “I can just make you feel good.” He stroked over her palm, and her fingers unfurled, inviting him to touch. 


“You already paid for tonight, Ayesha.”

Her hand fisted shut, and she turned to face the door. “I wanted to talk to
you about that. Please come in.”





• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •




After returning her shoes to their place in her coat closet, Ayesha padded
past her dining room, Aditya followed behind her quietly, and
she suspected he was noting how barren the space was.

No centerpiece adorned her dining room table. No artfully arranged place
settings, either. There was nothing but . . . she didn’t know what kind of wood the table was made of, but it was soft. 

She ran her fingers over the satiny surface as she walked to the far end of the table where she usually sat. 

The chairs surrounding the dining table were the only ones in her entire house.

“Did you just move in?” he asked.

She pulled a chair out for him and rubbed her elbow awkwardly. “Not
really.”


Instead of sitting down, he strode into the adjoining kitchen with his hands
in his pockets, inspecting the stainless-steel refrigerator,
and whatever else she had in the echoing space. Cold, gray,
the kitchen was her least favorite room in her house. 

At least, it usually was. It became a different place with Aditya in it. The ambience turned intimate and inviting, and the low-hanging lights twinkled more like stars than energy-efficient LEDs. It no longer felt lonely.


“What does ‘not really’ mean? A month ago? Two?” He aimed a teasing
grin at her as he asked, “A year?”

“Five years.”

His face went slack, and he stared at her house with new eyes. “So you
like it empty like this?”

She shrugged. “I’m at the office most of the time, so it doesn’t bother me.
Here, I have a bed, a nice TV, and really fast Internet.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “The essentials.”

“Is that too strange?” Like being getting overstimulated at
clubs?


“No, I think I like it,” he said with a smile. “You could use some art,
though, and a couch or two. Maybe a coffee table. You don’t need much more than that.”

A knot formed in her throat. At that precise moment in time, when she had
him standing in her kitchen, in her house, she felt like she didn’t need
anything else in the whole world. And their time together was ending soon.
She wasn’t ready for that to happen.

“Would you mind sitting so we can talk?” she asked.

With a serious nod, he rounded the oversized center island and sat in the
chair she’d pulled out. His proximity drew her like a magnet, and she seated
herself before she could do something distracting like touch him. She needed
to stay focused. Maybe if she spoke very eloquently, he’d agree to her new
plan.

She rested jittery hands on the tabletop, and within seconds, her fingers
started tapping.

A warm hand slid over hers and squeezed. “You never need to be nervous
with me. You know that, right?”

When he didn’t remove his hand, she analyzed the way he made her feel.
This was a casual, uninvited touch, the kind that normally made her want to
crawl into herself. But all she registered right now was Aditya’s warmth and
the roughness of his skin, his weight. She didn’t understand it, but her body
accepted him. Only him.

The realization made her mind sharpen with determination, and she
gathered her courage and plowed ahead. “I’m issuing you a new proposal.”

He tilted his head in a measured way. “You mean you want to extend our
lessons beyond next Friday?”

“I mean I don’t want lessons anymore. Our time together tonight—both
the good parts and the . . . not-so-good parts—made me realize a few things.


While I’m bad at sex, I’m even worse at relationships. I think I’m better off
spending my time working on that. Before today, I never shared ice cream
with someone or held hands while I walked down a sidewalk. I never had a
dinner conversation that wasn’t filled with long stretches of painful silence or those embarrassing moments when I accidentally offend people and drive
them away.”

He ran his thumb over her knuckles before he considered her with an
unwavering gaze. “I didn’t see any relationship problems—except for when
you tried to abandon me, but if I’d actually been kissing her, I would have
deserved it. You did fine tonight.”

“That’s because I was with you.”

He thought that over for a pensive moment. “Maybe it’s because you feel
like you’re in control when you’re with me. Because you’re paying me,
there’s less pressure, and you can relax.”

“That’s not it at all. I relax with you because of the way you treat me,
because you’re you,” she said with certainty.

His eyebrows drew together, and he went still for several breaths. “Ayesha,
you shouldn’t tell me things like that.”

“Why? It’s true.”

Emotions crossed his face faster than she could read them. He shook his
head, swallowed. A smile hinted at the edge of his lips before he withdrew his hand from hers to rub his jaw. 

He cleared his throat, but his voice still came out rough when he said, “Tell me about this new proposal.”

She stared down at the back of her hand, missing the warmth of his touch.
“I want you to teach me how to be in a relationship. Not the sex part, but the
together part. Like tonight. The talking and the sharing and the holding hands.

New things are scary for me, but with you, I can handle them and even enjoy
them. I want to hire you to be my full-time practice boyfriend.”

His lips parted, but he didn’t speak for the longest time. “What do you
mean, ‘not the sex part’?”

“I want to take the sex out. I don’t want to be like that woman at the club
and force you to be intimate with me. My hope is that if I get good enough at
the together part of a relationship, a man won’t mind working on the sex part
with me.”

“Who said anything about forcing?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

“Everything I’ve done with you up to now has been voluntary.”

She suppressed a grimace and laced her fingers together so she couldn’t
tap them. “The next time a man kisses me, I need him to do it because he
wants to.” Without a monetary incentive.

 After seeing Aditya with his ex-client, everything they’d done thus far left an unsavory taste in her mouth.

Her reasoning when hiring an escort to teach her sex had been oversimplified.

“I know you weren’t initially interested in doing repeat sessions, and my new proposal would require even more face time. Because of that, I’m willing to pay you Two Lakh rupees up front for the first month. Maybe we could try this for three to six months—at the same rate? Is that a good time frame for a practice relationship?

 Everything is negotiable, of course. I don’t know
what the industry standard is for this type of arrangement.”

“Two Lakhs . . .” He shook his head like he was questioning his
hearing. “Ayesha, I can’t—”

“Before you say no, think about it,” she said as her heart rate jumped.

“Please.”

He pushed away from the table and got to his feet. “I need some time.”

“Of course.” She stood up and held her breath, nervous, unsure what to do.

“As much as you need.”


Wrapping a hand around her upper arm, he took a half step toward her. He
leaned down a few inches before he caught himself. Eyes intent on her mouth, he outlined the edges of her lips with his fingertips, sending shivers of awareness outward. “I’ll tell you by next Friday. Is that okay?”

“That’s fine.”

He bit his teeth into his bottom lip like he was thinking about kissing her,
and her own lips tingled in response. “Good night, then, Ayesha.”

“Good night, Aditya.”


In a state of breathless numbness, she watched as he let himself out.

Beautiful beautiful writing. Autistic heroine ia new. Very well written

[naruto9211]

A persistent buzzing dragged Ayesha out of yet another heated Aditya
dream. For this entire past week, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking
about him.

At work, she tried to focus on her data, but the words and numbers turned
into body parts that fit together in fascinating ways. She fantasized about his
hands, his mouth, his smile, his eyes, his words, his laugh, his presence.
When she slept, dreams of Aditya plagued her, so intense the craving of
her body woke her at odd hours of the night.

Last Friday had tipped her over the line. There was no doubt about it.
Ayesha was officially obsessed with Aditya.

And they might never see each other again. It was Friday now, and he still
hadn’t texted or called. Was this one of those situations where no news meant
no? Her heart sank, and her limbs went heavy with sadness.

The internal buzzing continued, distracting her. She groped at the
nightstand until she located her phone. Squinting at the screen, she saw it was
her housekeeper.

She coughed to clear her throat of the sound of hot dream sex. “Hello?”

“Ms. Naz, I can’t make it today. My daughter is sick, and ...

“Oh, that’s fine. Thanks for calling. I hope she gets better soon.”

“Can I make it up next week?”

“Sure, no problem.” She glanced at the clock, and her heart almost
stopped. It was just short of eight o’clock. She was usually sitting at her desk
by now.

She’d almost hit the end button when she heard her housekeeper say, “Oh,
Ms. Naz, you’ll want to take your clothes to the dry cleaners since I can’t do
it.”

“Oh, all right. Thanks for reminding me.”

“No problem. Good-bye.”

Ayesha considered skipping the dry cleaners. Not only did she not know
which one she used, she didn’t like the idea of ruining her morning routine by
adding an extra step. It was . . . irritating and anxiety-causing. New place.
New people. And after the disaster at the club, her tolerance for new things
was at an all-time low.

In the end, it was the idea of having the wrong number of skirts and tops
hanging in her closet that had her perusing Yelp for nearby dry cleaners. She
settled on an establishment that was ranked above all the others even though it
was a little out of the way.

After about five minutes, she turned into the parking lot of a small mall
with well-maintained Old-fashioned signs labeled a coffee shop, a martial arts studio,
and CLEANOVO Dry Cleaning and Tailors.

She looped her purse and bag of clothes over her shoulder and clicked
over the asphalt toward the dry cleaners. A tiny old lady with a hunched back,
and sunken lips stood before the doors. She was quite possibly the cutest
grown human Ayesha had ever seen.


The old lady smiled as patted Ayesha’s shoulder.
Then she eyed Ayesha’s laundry bag, pulled the lip open so she could peer
inside, and placed her hand on the strap, steering Ayesha toward the front doors
of the dry cleaners. The old lady pushed the glass door open with surprising
strength. After Ayesha entered, the old lady disappeared through
a door behind the vacant front counter.

Ayesha gazed about, taking in the two headless mannequins in the window
display who modeled a precisely constructed Sherwani and a form-fitting
wedding lehanga. The interior of the store was calming blue-gray walls, soft
white dbanging curtains, and lots of natural light.

A fitting was going on in an adjacent room. A respectable-looking matron
in a sleeveless white blouse and lehanga stood on a raised platform before
a trifold of mirrors.

Ayesha went numb with astonishment.

At the woman’s feet kneeled Aditya.

He wore loose jeans and a plain white T-shirt that stretched around his
biceps, looking wholesome and beautiful and completely at home. A
measuring tape looped behind his neck and dangled down his chest,
Balanced over his right ear was a blue chalk.

“What kind of heels are you planning to wear with this?” he asked.

“I was planning on these, actually.” The lady pulled her pant leg up to
reveal regular white pumps.

“You should go open toe, Meghana. And one inch higher.”

Meghana’s lips thinned, and she angled her foot, turned it side to side. After
a moment, she nodded. “You’re right. I have just the pair.”

“I’m going to add another inch to the hem, then. How does the waist feel?”

“It’s too comfortable.”

“I figured you planned to eat in this.”

“My tailor thinks of everything.” She pivoted and stared at the profile of
her pinned-up waistline in the mirrors.

Aditya rolled his eyes, but he smiled. “Remember the lipstick.”

“Yes, yes, how could I forget? Fire-engine red. You’ll have this ready by
next Friday?”

“Yeah, it’ll be ready.”

She slinked off to a changing room in the blouse and lehanga, and Aditya picked up
a floral print garment that had been dbangd over the back of a chair. He
adjusted the pins and snatched the chalk pencil from above his ear to mark the
fabric, his eyes focused and his hands competent.

Inside Ayesha’s mind, missing pieces clicked into place. This was Aditya
in his natural state. This was what he did when he wasn’t escorting. Aditya
was a tailor.

He shook the garment out and dbangd it over his arm before turning to
retrieve yet another pin-strewn piece.

Catching sight of her from his peripheral vision, he said, “I’ll be with you
in a sec—” His eyes locked on hers, and his face went slack.

He froze.

She froze.

“How did you . . . ?” He glanced out the front windows like maybe he’d
find the answer to his unfinished question outside.

Her heart exploded. This had to look really bad—stalker bad. Not
fair, not fair. She’d only just realized she was obsessed with him today. She
hadn’t had time to stalk him like a fanatic. Now, she’d cost herself whatever
slim chance she’d had at a full-time arrangement.

She backed up a step. “I’ll go.”

He strode quickly across the room and caught her hand before she could
leave. “Ayesha . . .”

Her whole arm jumped in response to his touch, and she wanted to cry. “I
just needed my clothes dry-cleaned. I didn’t know you worked here. I-I’m not
stalking. I know it looks bad.”

His expression softened. “It actually looks like you have clothes in need of
dry cleaning.” He lifted the bag of clothes from her shoulder. “Let me ring
you up.”

He took her things to the front counter and began counting blouses with
professional efficiency. His cheeks, however, were unusually pink.

“Is this awkward?” she asked, hating that she was making him
uncomfortable.

“A little. Believe it or not, this is the first time I’ve run into a client here.
Seven shirts. I’m assuming seven skirts, too.” He counted them out into a
separate pile and searched her face. “Do you work every day?”

She nodded jerkily. “I prefer the office on the weekends.”

His mouth tilted up at the corner. “You would.” There was no judgment
from him, no criticism, no advice that it was bad for her health and her social
life. He didn’t think there was something wrong with her. Ayesha wanted to
leap over the counter and throw herself into his arms.

He began to set the laundry bag aside when he noticed there was still
something inside. As he upended it, the blue dress tumbled out.

His eyes lifted to hers and smoldered.

Ayesha gripped the counter as ice cream memories flickered through her
head. Chilled silken lips, mint chocolate chip, and the taste of his mouth.
Unhurried kisses in a room full of people.

“Do you have any special directions for your clothes?” he asked in a rough
voice.

Blinking away her memories, she forced her mind into the present. “No
starch. I don’t like the feel of it on—”

“Your skin,” he finished, running his thumb over the back of her hand.

She nodded and searched for something to say. Her gaze landed on the
blue cocktail dress. “I bought this dress because I liked the color and the
fabric.” With its crisp silk texture and structure, it must have complemented
Aditya’s gorgeous suit nicely . . . “The suit,” she whispered. “Did you make
it?”

His eyelashes swept downward, and a boyish grin covered his face.
“Yeah.”

Her mouth fell open. If he could do that, then why in the world was he
escorting?

“My grandfather was a tailor. Apparently, it runs in my blood. it started as a hobby,
apart from being an architect,  I like making clothes.”

“Would you make clothes for me?”

“You’d have to stand still for a long time. It’s not sexy. Would you really
want that?” His tone was matter-of-fact, but the look in his eyes was not. It
took Ayesha a moment before she realized it was vulnerability.

Was it possible Aditya didn’t think someone could be interested in him
for more than his body?

“I’ve had clothes made for me before, remember? I know what it’s like.
It’s worth it to me. You’re talented. I want your designs.”

“That’s right. I forgot.” That boyish grin flashed again, looking almost shy,
and she wanted to wrap herself around him and hold him forever.

“I’ve been expecting news from you,” she whispered.

His smile faded as his expression went serious. “I needed to think about
it.”

“Are you accepting my proposal?” Please don’t say no.

“Are you sure you still want to issue it?”

“Of course.” She couldn’t think of a single reason why she would have
changed her mind.

“No sex?”

She took a breath and nodded. “That’s right.”

Leaning forward, he asked in a low voice, “So you can be sure the next
man to kiss you or touch you only does it because he wants to?”

“Y-yes.” She leaned toward him as she anticipated his answer, almost
afraid to exhale.

“I accept.”

She smiled in dizzying relief. “Thank—”

He tipped her face upward with a hand on her jaw and kissed her. Electric
sensation crackled through her. If it weren’t for the counter, she would have
fallen. At her murmur, he deepened the kiss, taking her mouth with his tongue
in the same way she wanted him to—

The door behind the counter opened, and someone marched out.

They tore apart like guilty teenagers. Aditya cleared his throat and busied
himself with the clothes on the counter. Ayesha pursed her lips, tasted Aditya
on her skin, and wiped the moisture away with the back of her hand.

From the look on the older woman’s face, she’d seen everything . . . and
was curious. Round-lensed glasses perched on the top of her head at a
gravity-defying angle, and her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail,
though several strands stood out in busy disarray. Like Aditya,
she wore a measuring tape
around her neck.


As he bent over the garment with that sexy thinking look on his face, the
woman aimed a distracted smile at Ayesha and patted Aditya’s arm. “I taught
him when he was little, and now he teaches me back.”

Ayesha eked out a smile. Had his mother just caught them kissing? She tried
to find similarities between them, but nothing stuck out. Aditya’s facial
features were a striking balance of edges and angles. Broad
shouldered, thick, and vital, he towered over the old woman.

Ayesha pushed her glasses up and smoothed her hands over her skirt,
wishing she had a white lab coat and a stethoscope.


“What do you do for a living? Are you a doctor?” the woman asked with
ill-disguised hope.

“No, I’m a statistician.” Ayesha linked her fingers together and stared
at the tips of her shoes, awaiting disappointment.

“Is that economics?”

Ayesha’s eyes darted back up in surprise. “Yes, it is, but with more math.”

“Has your girlfriend met Pinky yet?” she asked Aditya.

Aditya looked up from his garment, his expression worried. “Mom, no,
she hasn’t met Pinky, and she isn’t my—” He stopped speaking, and his gaze
jumped from his mom to Ayesha.

His dilemma was perfectly clear. What did they call one another in public
situations now?

“She’s not what?” his mom asked in confusion.

He cleared his throat as he focused on the garment in his hands. “She
hasn’t met Pinky.”

Warmth splashed at Ayesha’s body in unexpected waves. He didn’t correct
his mom. Did that mean they were going by boyfriend and girlfriend in public
situations?

A desperate yearning gripped Ayesha, surprising her in its intensity.

“Who’s Pinky?” Ayesha managed to ask. She remembered that name from
before.

“Pinky is his sister.” There was a thinking slant to his mom’s eyes before
she brightened and said, “You should come to our house for dinner tonight.
Talk to Pinky about economics, ah? She’s studying that at KJ Somayya Institute and is
trying to get a job. His other sisters will want to meet you, too. We didn’t
know he had a new girlfriend.”

His mom’s words swamped whatever giddiness she’d experienced from
being called Aditya’s girlfriend. House. Dinner. Sisters. The words rattled
around in her head, refusing to make sense.

“Just come, ah? Even if you two have plans, you still have to eat. Aditya
can make fish curry. His fish curry is very good . . . I forgot to ask. What is your name?”

Dazed, she said, “Ayesha, Ayesha Naz.”


His mother smiled her approval. “Don’t eat anything before you come, ah?
We have lots of food.” With that, she brushed her hands together like business
was settled, filled out the invoice slip for Ayesha’s clothes, and handed it to her.

“This will be ready Tuesday morning.”

In a state of panic, Ayesha stuffed the slip into her purse, murmured a quiet
thank-you, and walked out to her car,

House. Dinner. Sisters.

The front door swung open and Aditya jogged to her side. She opened
the window, and he propped his hands on the side of the car. “You don’t have
to come if you don’t want to.” A notch formed between his eyebrows as he
hesitated. “But maybe . . .”

“Maybe what?” she heard herself ask.

“Maybe it’s the kind of practice you wanted.”

“You’d let me practice with your family?” The fact that he trusted her with
the important people in his life touched her in ways she didn’t understand,
made her feel off-kilter. That yearning from earlier returned.

“Would you be good to them?” he asked with a searching gaze.

“Yes, of course.” She always strove to be good to people.

“And keep our arrangement between us? They don’t know about . . . what
I do.”

She nodded. That went without saying.

“Then I’m okay with it. If you want to. Do you?”

“Yes, I do.” But not because she wanted practice.

“Let’s do it, then.” His eyes fell to her lips. “Come closer.”

She leaned toward him but glanced at the front of the shop. “She might be
watch—”

He pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. Just one. And he pulled away. “See
you tonight.”

[naruto9211]

Jab, jab, cross. Jab, jab, cross. Cross. 

Sweat trickled into Aditya’s eyes, burning him, and he swiped a
forearm over his face before slamming a fist into the punching bag again.
Whenever thoughts crept back into his head, he hit harder. Too many fucking
thoughts, too many fucking feelings.

Jab, dodge, hook. Jab, cross.

His arms burned, and he welcomed the pain, welcomed the way it seared
everything out of his brain. There was nothing but the hard resistance of the
sand in the bag and the jolting impact that shocked up his arm and down his
leg.

Jab, jab, jab, cross, cross, cross. Harder. Could he punch the bag straight
off its chains? Maybe. Cross, cross, cross, cross—

Loud knocks distracted him midpunch, and he glared at the front door. His
annoyance quickly morphed into worry. Shit, was it the landlord?

Throwing a towel around his neck, he went to open the door.

“’Aye Jhaatu” Sunny brushed past him, set a six-pack of beer bottles on the
coffee table, and tossed his motorcycle jacket on the couch. Without pausing
to look at Aditya, he strode into the kitchen and began digging through the
fridge. “Got anything to eat?”

“You’re the one who works at a restaurant,” Aditya said on his way back
to his punching bag.

It still swung side to side from the pummeling he’d given it, and he
steadied it before he drove a fist into the faded leather. As he got back into
beating the shit out of the bag, he heard a series of sounds followed by rumbling in kitchen.

“I’m eating your breakfast,” Sunny called out.

Aditya ignored him and continued punching.

Sunny carried a cool bowl to the couch, sat, and proceeded to eat Aditya’s breakfast. Very noisily.

When Aditya couldn’t take the slurping sounds any longer, he paused in
his punching and said, “Most people eat silently.”

Sunny shrugged. “I like this better.” He shoved a spoon of semi-frozen oats
into his mouth and slurp-chewed, arching his eyebrows at Aditya in a what
gives? way.

Aditya gritted his teeth and tried to find his rhythm again.

“You been hitting the weights hard lately? Your arms are bigger. 

Steadying the bag, Aditya asked, “Why are you here?”

“You gonna apologize to me or what? Because you’re the shittiest cousin
ever, Aditya. You really are.”

He shut his eyes, exhaling. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to ask you to try that again.”

He pushed away from the bag and threw himself onto the couch next to his
cousin. “I’m really sorry. It’s just complicated right now, and I—” He rested
his elbows on his knees and covered his face with his wrapped hands. “I’m
sorry.”

“I don’t get why you lied about not having a girlfriend. ‘No one special’
my ass. You scared she won’t like the family or what?” Sunny asked with a
sneer.

Aditya resisted the urge to tear his hair out. “I don’t want to talk about
this.”

“The fuck, Aditya.” Sunny set his bowl on the coffee table next to the beer
and grabbed his jacket. “I’ll leave, then.” He stalked to the door and grabbed
the knob.

“yesterday was crappy, okay?” He began yanking the boxing wraps from his
fists. “All my days are crap days, but yesterday was worse. I thought my mom was dead. When I got there, she was stooped over in her chair, and it didn’t
look like she was breathing. I lost my shit.”

Sunny turned around, worry lining his face. “Is she okay? Why didn’t I hear
about this earlier? Was it like the other two times when you found her in the
bathroom? Is she in the hospital right now?”

One of the wraps came off, and Aditya switched to his other hand,
reliving the fear and the relief and the embarrassment. “She’s fine. She just
fell asleep. When I went crazy, she woke up and yelled at me.”

Sunny’s expression went from relieved to amused. “You’re such a
momma’s boy, you know that?”

“Like you aren’t.”

“You should tell my mom that. Maybe she’ll stop being so mean.”

Aditya rolled his eyes as he coiled his boxing wraps back up. “After that,
someone came looking for my dad. They were trying to serve him. Not sure if
it was the same person from before, or the ENFORCEMENT DIRECTORATE, or someone new. It’s always
fun seeing people’s faces when I tell them yeah, I’m his son. I can see them
sizing me up and making assumptions. And then when I tell them I have no
idea where my dad is or if he’s even alive, I get the doubt or the pity. My
mom spent the rest of the day repeating old stories about how fucked up he
is.”

“You’re the only one she tells, you know. She won’t even talk to my mom
about that stuff, and they’re like this.” Sunny crossed two fingers. “You just
gotta let her do it.”

“Yeah, I know.” He understood it was good for his mom to talk about it,
and most times, he handled it pretty well. But lately, it had gotten harder for
him. Because he was a selfish asshole.

Like father, like son.

He was tempted to take Ayesha up on her offer even though his gut told him
he should say no. She would be better off spending her time with tech geeks
and economics laureates—people who were actually good matches for her and
could afford to be with her even when she wasn’t paying them.

Not like Aditya. He would give almost anything to take the money out of
their equation, but the bills didn’t stop, so he couldn’t, either.

“You want me to go, or you want me to stay?” Sunny asked from where he
stood in front of the door.

Aditya took two beers out of the cardboard container, popped the top off
one using the other, and set the open bottle on the coffee table. “Stay.”

Sunny snatched the bottle on his way over and sat down next to Aditya on
the couch. After taking a deep swallow, he traded the beer for the oats and
took up where he’d left off, only not as loud now.

Aditya popped the top off his own bottle with the edge of the table,
turned on the TV, and drank as he absently flipped through the channels.

“So, about your girl . . .” Sunny said. “How long you been seeing her?”

Aditya took a long drag from his bottle. He needed to be buzzed if he
was going to talk about this. “Ayesha’s not really ‘my girl.’ It’s only been a few
weeks.”

“Whatever, man, you’ve got serious pussy mojo. If you want a girl, she’s
yours.”

Aditya snorted and drank more. “I don’t want a girl who likes me just
because I fuck her right.”

He wanted a girl who liked him for him.

“You’re so full of shit.” Sunny swapped his empty bowl for his beer and
took a swig. “She almost cried when that lady SARAH plastered herself to your face. She’s into you.”

Aditya’s heart threatened all sorts of dramatic gymnastics at his cousin’s
words, and he gave himself a stern mental shake as he stared into his beer
bottle. It probably wasn’t what he thought. He shouldn’t jump to conclusions.

“That’s cool.”

“That’s cool?” Sunny arched an eyebrow. “You’re not in seventh grade
anymore. You should be like, that’s awesome, man, thanks for telling me, I
can’t see from inside my ass. Do you need sex advice? Because I know shit.”

Aditya couldn’t stop the laughter from cracking out of his lungs. “No,
I’m good on the sex advice. Thanks. But if you ever need some tips . . .”

Sunny fingered the raised letters on the side of his beer bottle like he had
something to say but was trying to figure out how. Pinning Aditya with a
weighted gaze, he finally asked, “Have you ever thought she’s kinda like
Bunny?”

Aditya smiled slightly. “Yeah, just a little, though.” Ayesha was on the
socially awkward side like Bunny, but she was far more expressive and
sensitive. “Why do you ask?”

Sunny arched his eyebrows and drank his beer. “No reason.” After a
moment of consideration, he pointed his bottle at Aditya. “So have you
two . . . you know?”

Aditya took a long drag of beer. “Nope.”

“Really?” Sunny grimaced. “Is she a virgin? Shit, is she saving it for
marriage? Run like my mom is after you.”

Aditya shrugged. “She needs me to go slow. I don’t mind. I kinda like it.”

Every new response he earned from Ayesha felt special, just like in the old
commercials. It’s better when you win it. Maybe because it had always
been so easy for him before.

“Fucking liar. You’re probably jacking off ten times a day.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t jacking off.”

Sunny shot forward to the front of the couch. “Oh fuck, am I sitting on your
'come' cushions?”

“Do you really wanna know?” Aditya asked with a smirk.

“You’re disgusting. You know that?” Sunny got up and sat on the coffee
table, brushing at himself like he’d been contaminated.

Aditya laughed, and the two of them spent a moment contemplating their
beers.

When he couldn’t hold back any longer, Aditya asked, “What did you
think of Ayesha? Did you like her?” He braced himself for the answer, realizing
he cared about his cousin’s opinion.

How stupid was that? Even if he did accept Ayesha’s proposal, he’d only be
her practice boyfriend. Their practice relationship would end as soon as she
gained the confidence to enter a real relationship with someone better.

“Yeah, she’s cute, a lot sweeter than the girls you used to go for. Your
mom is going to go nuts over her.”

Aditya downed the rest of his beer. Not fucking likely. They’d have to
meet first, and he couldn’t see that happening.

“What’s her last name? Ayesha what?” Sunny asked as he pulled out his
phone.

“Why?”

“I wanna see if she has a LinkedIn profile. I do this with every guy my
sister befriends. Aren’t you curious?”

Yeah, he was curious. “Naz, Ayesha Naz.”

[naruto9211]

She pressed on the doorbell button and waited. No one came. Her gut
knotted.
She knocked.
Nothing.
She knocked louder.
Still nothing.

She confirmed the address on her phone. This was the right place.
Aditya’s Swift car was even parked in the driveway. Before she could drive
herself crazy deciding what to do, the door opened.

Aditya smiled at her. “Right on time.”

She tightened her grip on the stuff she’d brought, basically having an
internal meltdown of uncertainty. “I don’t know if I got the right things.”

He unloaded the sweets and chocolate from her hands with an odd
expression on his face. “You didn’t have to bring anything. Really.”

Panic surged. “Oh, I can take them back. Let me put them—”

He set the items on a side table and stroked a thumb over her cheek. “My
mom will love them. Thank you.”

She released a long breath. “What happens now?”

The corner of his mouth kicked up. “I think the usual greeting is a hug.”

“Oh.” She held her hands out awkwardly and stepped toward him, certain
she was doing everything wrong.

Until his arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her close. His scent, his
warmth, and his solidness surrounded her. That was one hundred percent
right.

He pulled away with a soft look in his eyes. “Ready?”

At her nod, he ushered her through a marble-tiled entryway, past a formal
dining area, and into a kitchen that was open to an adjoining family room.
The massive boxy TV in the room grabbed her attention.

 A man and a woman
in traditional Marathi attire humming out a series of
fluctuating notes. After a particularly impassioned iteration, Aditya’s grandma clapped.

Sitting next to her at the kitchen table, his mom paused in the process of
peeling mangoes to voice her appreciation.

When she noticed Ayesha and Aditya, his mom waved with her peeler.
“Hello. We eat soon.”

Ayesha worked up a smile and a wave. Bracing herself for an evening of
nerve-racking social performance, she approached them and asked, “Can I
help?”

A wide smile stretched over Aditya’s mom’s face, and she set her peeler
and the plate she’d used to gather mango peels in front of the empty chair to
her left. When Ayesha unbuttoned her cuffs, Aditya flashed her a grin.

As she washed her hands in the kitchen sink, she watched him heat a large
pan, pour oil in, and add ingredients in the careless, yet somehow intentional
manner of someone who knew how to cook. 

By the time she sat down next to
his mom, the air was heavy with the scents of  tandoor, garlic,
lemon, and sauce. He’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and she
couldn’t help admiring his sculpted forearms as he stirred the contents of the
pan.

It took effort to redirect her attention to the mango, and she’d just begun to
peel the large fruit his mom had handed her when the tinkling of a piano in
another room caught her attention. 

His mom pushed away from the table with a tight smile. “I have something
for you to try. Let me heat it up.”

While Aditya’s mom dug in the fridge, his grandma pointed to the bowl
of already sliced mango. Ayesha dutifully plucked a small slice from the bowl
and ate it, enjoying the sweet tang of the fruit. His grandma mmmmed and
returned to peeling her mango.

Ayesha released a small breath as her stomach relaxed. She liked sitting
with Grandma most of all.


A youngish sister in jeans, a T-shirt, and a messy ponytail flopped into the
kitchen, picked a piece from the plate, and popped it in her mouth. When she noticed Ayesha, she waved. “Ayesha, right?

I’m Pooja aka Pinky.” She plucked another piece, but her mom
slapped the back of her hand, and she yanked her hand back with a yelp. Her
mom shooed her toward the table with
a fast torrent of Marathi.

Pinky sat across from her with an easy grin that was higher on one side—
Aditya’s grin. “So how do you like Aditya?”
Ayesha lifted her shoulder in a noncommittal way.
Pinky laughed and ate a large mango slice. “That good, huh?”
Before Ayesha could think up a response, Aditya’s mom set a plastic
container on the table and opened the lid. Steam rose from a light green
spongy cake. “Eat, ah? Kaman Dhokla. It’s very good.”
Ayesha set her peeler and fruit down and stretched a hand toward the
container when she noticed it was cheap plastic, like the kind takeout came in.

“You shouldn’t microwave these kinds of containers. The food probably has
BPA in it now.” It was basically poison as far as Ayesha was concerned.
His mom pulled the container close and smelled the cake. “No, it’s fine.
No BPA.”

“Glass or Pyrex are more expensive, but they’re safe,” Ayesha said. How
had no one told Aditya’s mom this? Did they want her to get sick?

“I use these all the time, and no problem.” Blinking rapidly, his mom held
the lid of the container to her chest.

“You wouldn’t notice right away. It’s repeated exposure over time. You
should really invest—”

Pinky snatched the plastic container from her mom and stuffed a piece of
green poison cake into her mouth. “These are my favorite. I love them.”

Sending Ayesha a pointed look, Pinky had a second one.


Aditya marched to the table and took the container from his sister before
she could eat a third piece. “It’s true, Mom These containers really are bad. I never thought about it. You shouldn’t use them.”

When he tossed it in the garbage, his mom protested in Marathi. Was
the lady upset because Ayesha didn’t want anyone to eat poison?

Pinky pushed away from the table and left the kitchen as two girls stormed
inside. They were both twenty-something with long black hair, pale
olive-toned skin, and curvy builds. If Ayesha hadn’t already learned the
hard way that questions like this irritated people, she would have asked if they were twins.

“You fat cow, why didn’t you ask before you took it and spilled wine on
it? While you were making out with my boyfriend?” one girl shouted.

Ayesha flinched, and her already anxious heart squeezed. Fighting was her
absolute least favorite thing. When people fought, it always felt like a
personal attack for her. It didn’t matter if she was just a bystander.

“You said you two were through, and I was curious. Also, I wouldn’t have
spilled all over it if it fit right. Who’s the fat cow now?” the second girl
shouted back.

Grandma picked up a black remote and squinted at the buttons. As vertical
green lines crawled across the screen and the volume climbed, the music went
from distracting to unpleasant.

“That’s it. I’m taking back all the jeans I gave you.” The first girl shouted
even louder to be heard over the TV.

“Go ahead and take them. Show what a selfish bitch you are.”

Grandma muttered and increased the volume yet again.

Ayesha set the peeler down with shaky hands and tried to slow her
breathing. This was getting to be too much.

Two more girls walked into the kitchen. One was shorter and darker than
the rest and looked to be about Ayesha’s age. The other one was high college
young. They had to all be his sisters. One, two, three, four, five of them.

The short one stabbed a finger in the twins’ direction. “You two are going
to stop fighting right now.”

They scoffed and crossed their arms in almost the exact same manner.

“Ever since you ran away and married that loser and left us with Mom’s problems, you lost the right to say anything to us,” the first sister said.


The short sister rolled forward like a tank. “It’s time
for me to live my life, too. Try to think of others for once in your lives.”

“So now we’re the selfish ones?” the second sister asked. “You’re out,
and we’re home holding Mom’s hair while she
vomits after her chemo treatments.”

“She’s not doing chemo right now . . . Right?” The short sister looked at
Aditya for confirmation.

His mom snatched the remote from Grandma and maxed out the volume
on the TV before she went to putter around by the sink. Ayesha rested damp
palms on the glass surface of the table. This had to stop eventually. She just
had to outlast them.

“She was, but she didn’t respond well, so they switched her to a drug
trial,” Aditya provided.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Because you’re so goddamned busy with your marriage crap, why else?

Mom didn’t want to stress you out more than you always are,” one of the
twins said.

“Finding out this way is stressing me out worse.”

“Boo-hoo, Amrita,” the other twin said.

As the sniping continued, a harsh beeping sounded, and his mom took a
white bowl out of the microwave. Using tongs, she put steaming rice
into a large bowl along with the tandoori chicken and an
assortment of salads.

She placed the plate in front of Ayesha with a polite smile. “Aditya’s curry.
You’ll like it.”

Ayesha’s chin bobbed on a jerky nod. “Thank—” A suspicion rose, and she
snuck a glance at the bowl. She pushed the bowl away. “The bowl is
made of plastic. No one should eat this.”

His mom froze, and a tide of red swept over her face as she stared first at
Ayesha and then the bowl. “Let me make a fresh bowl of rice for you.”

Before his mom could touch the bowl, Aditya grabbed it. “I’ll do it. Sit,
Mom.” His expression was strained as he removed the poisoned food, and Ayesha
had the horrible feeling that she’d said The Wrong Thing, but she didn’t know
how else she could have navigated the situation.


His mom sat down and eyed Aditya’s sisters as they continued their
argument in by the refrigerator. Sighing, she picked up her
peeler and resumed where she’d left off with her last mango.

Ayesha kept her eyes on her own work, growing more and more nervous
with every passing moment. She was painfully aware of the lack of
conversation between them, and her instincts urged her to fill the silence—if
silence was even the right word. His mom wasn’t speaking, but his sisters
were, and the TV had been blasting this whole time. 

When the piano started playing again, her nerves stretched to the breaking point. 
That flat A note rang one, two-three, four times. Had anything ever been so irritating?

“You really should get the piano tuned,” she said. “Where is your husband
again?”

When his mom continued peeling her mango without answering, Ayesha
assumed she hadn’t heard the question.

So she asked again. “Where is he?”

“He’s gone,” his mom said in a final tone.

“Does that mean . . . he’s passed away?” Should she offer condolences?

She wasn’t sure what to say now.


His mom sighed, keeping her eyes on her mango. “I don’t know.”

The answer tripped Ayesha up, and she frowned as she asked, “Are you
divorced, then?”

“I can’t divorce him if I can’t find him.”

Ayesha stared at Aditya’s mom in complete bafflement. “What do you
mean, you can’t find him? Was he in an accident or—”

A large hand gripped her shoulder and squeezed with firm pressure.

Aditya. “The rice is almost done. Do you eat cashew?”

She blinked at the interruption. “Sure, I’m not allergic.” When he nodded
and went to the kitchen island, she refocused on his mom. “How long has he
been gone? Have you filed a missing-person re—”

“Ayesha.” Aditya’s voice split through the air, a startling reprimand.

His sisters stopped arguing, and all eyes locked on her. Her heart pounded
louder than the TV and the piano. What had she done?


“We don’t talk about my dad,” he said.

That didn’t make any sense. “But what if he’s hurt or—”

“You can’t hurt someone when they don’t have a heart,” his mom
interrupted. “He left us all to be with another woman. I want to divorce him,
but I don’t know where to send the papers. He changed his phone number.”

His mom pushed her chair back and stood. “I'm  tired. You kids eat, ah?
Maybe go buy something for Aditya’s girlfriend if she doesn’t like what we
have.”

His mom left, and the piano music ended abruptly. His grandma turned off
the tv, The sudden quietness was a relief, but it felt ominous somehow.

Her blood rushed, her head throbbed, and her breaths came in short gasps like
she’d been running. Or maybe she was preparing to run.

Pinky hurried into the kitchen. “What just happened? Why is Mom
crying?”

No one answered, but seven sets of eyes accused her. It was worse than all
the noise from before, far, far worse.

She’d made Aditya’s mom cry.

Ayesha’s face flamed with embarrassment and guilt, and she jumped to her
feet. “I’m so sorry. I need to go.”

Ducking her head, she gathered her purse and fled.

• • •





Aditya stared at the doorway Ayesha had rushed through, feeling like he’d
watched a car accident in slow motion. A mix of unholy emotion
coursed through his veins. Anger, horror, shame, disbelief, shock. What the
fuck had just happened? What did he do now? His instincts urged him to
chase after her.

“You better go check on Mom,” Pinky said.

That was right. His practice girlfriend had just put his mom in tears. What
a great son he was. He went to look for her without a word. With heavy feet
and a heavier chest, he climbed the stairs, walked down the carpeted hall, and
paused outside his mom’s bedroom. The door was ajar, and he peered around
the edge, finding his mom sitting on her bed. He didn’t need to see her face to
know she was crying. It was written in her slumped posture and the way her
head hung.

The sight destroyed him. No one got to hurt his mom. Not his dad and not
his past girlfriends. Not even Ayesha. “Mẹ?”

She didn’t acknowledge him as he entered the room and padded to her
bedside.

“I’m sorry about all the things she said.” He tried to keep his voice low,
but it came out unnaturally loud. “The piano, the food, Dad . . .”

He didn’t know how Ayesha had managed it, but in just a few minutes,
she’d found every sensitive spot his family possessed—their tight financial
situation, his mom’s lack of education, and his fucked-up dad—and poked
right at them. Accidentally. That was clear as day.

Holy shit, she was bad with people. He’d had no idea how bad until
tonight. When it was just the two of them, it wasn’t like this.

His mom grabbed his hand. “Do you think your dad is okay?”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” His lips twisted as he imagined his old man lounging
on a yacht in Maldives next to his latest wife.

“Can you email him for Mẹ?”

“No.” He was never talking to his dad again.

His mom took a ragged breath and covered her face. “Your Ayesha was
right. He could be hurt. He’s so evil no one would care to help him, certainly
not his new woman. She’s only with him as long as the money lasts.”

He fisted his hands as a familiar rage threaded through his muscles. “That
amount of money should last a long time.”

“Not the way he spends. He thinks he’s a big shot. Nothing was ever good
enough for him, remember?”

Not this again.

Aditya clenched his jaw as his mom launched into another retelling of a
story he’d heard a thousand times. He sat down next to her and listened with
half an ear so he could make the appropriate sounds when she paused.

Words like uses women and bad person and liar stuck out, and he couldn’t
help noticing how well they applied to himself. Look at all the lies he told.
Look at what he did to pay the bills. Look at him taking money from Ayesha
for doing what any other guy would do for—

Cold horror soaked into him. This was why it had felt so wrong to accept
Ayesha’s proposal. It was wrong. He was taking advantage of her. What kind of
man accepted money from a naïve woman to teach her things she could learn
for free?

He’d finally taken the last steps and become his dad. That couldn’t be
right. That wasn’t him. He was better.

Their arrangement had to end right now. Where was she? Fuck, was she
waiting for him outside?

He shot to his feet before his mom’s story was half finished. “I have to go,
Mom. I’m sorry about . . . tonight, about everything.”

“There’s no need for sorry. If you love her, we’ll learn to love her, too.”

At the mere mention of that word, sweat broke out over his brow. “I
don’t.” That made his actions worse, didn’t it?

His mom waved his protest away. “Bring her back another day. I won’t
microwave the plastic when she’s here.”


“You shouldn’t microwave it any time.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She said the words in such a manner that he knew she would
continue doing things her way regardless of what she’d been told, and
Aditya swore to himself he’d throw all her plastic away and replace it with
something safe. Right after he spoke to Ayesha.

“Good night, Mom.”


“Drive careful.”

He escaped the house in record time, but he came up short as he stepped
outside.

She was gone.

He gripped one of the porch’s wooden support pillars and dragged in deep
breaths as his heart rate slowed and his mind cleared. Cool air, the buzzing of bugs, and the distant whir of a car’s motor.

Maybe it was best that she wasn’t here. He needed time to compose a
decent parting speech. Something short but nice. It was him, not her, and—
No matter what he said, she was going to cry. The thought twisted his guts
into knots. She’d think it was her fault. Because of how awkward she was in
bed and out. Because of the unintentional debacle tonight.

He walked to his car and got inside. After he turned the ignition, he sat
with his hands on the wheel. He didn’t know where to go. Her place or his?
They needed to talk, but he wasn’t ready for her tears on top of his mom’s.

The new box of condoms on the passenger seat caught his eye. He’d
bought countless such boxes over the past three years. He hadn’t looked
forward to opening any of them as much as this one—because Ayesha was
different. Now, he’d be back to using the contents of the box with countless
Fridays of women, providing a simple service for fair payment. It didn’t hurt
or take advantage of anyone. That was better than what his dad did. Aditya
could do that and still be himself. Too bad he didn’t want any of those women
like he did Ayesha.

He pushed the box onto the floor and out of sight before heading to his
own apartment. Tomorrow. He’d do the right thing tomorrow.






thanks for the support.

[naruto9211]

Ayesha completed her bedtime routine in a numb haze. It wasn’t until she
laid her head down on her pillow that she started crying.

It was over now. He’d asked her to be good to his family, and she’d made
his mom cry. You couldn’t undo something like that.

Her gut demanded she tell Aditya the truth. Though he wasn’t aware of
the true extent of them, he already knew about her issues: sensitivities to
smell, sound, and touch; her obsession with her work; her need for routine;
and her awkwardness with people. What he didn’t know was there were labels
for that, a diagnosis.

But was pity any better than hatred? Right now, he thought she was
insensitive and rude, but he still viewed her as a regular person who happened
to have some eccentricities. With the labels, he might be more understanding,
but he’d quit viewing her as Ayesha Naz, awkward statistician who loved
his kisses. In his eyes, she’d become the girl with autism. She’d be . . . less.

With other people, she didn’t care what they thought.

With Aditya, she desperately needed to be accepted. She had a disorder,
but it didn’t define her. She was Ayesha. She was a unique person.

There was no way to salvage this situation. No way to keep him.

She still had to apologize to his mom. She’d never made someone cry
before, and it filled her with self-loathing. His mom’s evasiveness made sense
now that she knew about his dad. Ayesha wished she could have understood
earlier, before she hurt the woman and ruined everything, but all she could
control were her future actions, not the past.

As the night dragged on, she constructed and reconstructed her apology,
recited it over and over in her head. When the sun rose, she dragged herself
out of bed and got ready to tackle the day.

She drove to the same strip mall she’d gone to yesterday and parked in
front of CLEANOVO Dry Cleaning and Tailors. As soon as they flipped the sign,
she’d apologize and leave.

A night of sleeplessness had left her head clouded, and her heart ached
from the relentless pressure of her anxiety. Her fingers had been clenched
around the wheel so long the joints were locked. She was drained and wanted
to get this over with so she could go to the office and lose herself in work.

Five minutes before nine, the sign flipped from Closed to Open. Taking a
deep breath, Ayesha picked up a second box of chocolates and a bouquet of
peach roses and exited her car. Inside, Pinky sat behind the front counter.

She lifted her attention from the textbook on her lap and blinked in
surprise at Ayesha. From the tense set of her mouth, it was not a good kind of
surprise. “Hi, Ayesha . . . Aditya doesn’t work on Saturdays.”


“I wasn’t looking for him.” What was the point? They were done. She held
up the roses and chocolates. “I brought these for your mom. Is she here?”


Pinky’s expression softened. “Yeah, she’s here.”

“May I speak to her, please?”

“She’s working in back. I’ll take you there.”

She followed Pinky into the backroom and stopped in front of a green
commercial sewing machine, where Aditya’s mom was busy feeding fabric
beneath the sewing foot with quick efficiency, her glasses perched on the tip
of her nose.

Ayesha’s muscles tensed, and her heart thundered. It was time to do this.
She hoped she didn’t screw it up. She hoped she said the right thing.

Pinky murmured something in Marathi, and Aditya’s mom looked up.
Her gaze jumped from Pinky to Ayesha.

Ayesha swallowed and forged ahead. “I came to apologize for last night. I
know I was rude. I’m not . . . good with people. I wanted to thank you for
inviting me over to your house.” She held out the flowers and chocolates. “I
got these for you. I hope you like chocolate.”

Pinky snatched the truffles before her mother could touch the box. “I do.”

Aditya’s mom accepted the flowers and sighed. “We still have a lot of
food left over from last night. You should try to come again.”

Ayesha looked down at her feet. Aditya would be horrified if he saw her at
his mom’s tonight. “I need to go. I’m truly sorry about last night. Thank you
again.”

She turned around to leave but caught sight of Aditya’s tiny grandma at
the couch. The old woman nodded at her, and Ayesha fumbled on something
that was courteous, half bow before she left.


• • •



Aditya walked into the studio and tossed his duffel bag on the blue
matted floor next to the other two bags.

The fighters in the middle of the room broke apart, took five steps back,
switched their swords to their left hands, and bowed.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” said the fighter on the right. It was Sunny.
A helmet obscured his cousin’s face, but Aditya knew it was him by his
voice and the name embroidered in white on his black sparring gear. Also,
Sunny was an inch shorter than his baby brother.

Bunny waved a gloved hand at him and seamlessly switched from sparring
to strike drills using his reflection in the mirror. Ten whip-fast head strikes,
ten wrist strikes, ten rib strikes. Then back to the beginning. Ten more head
strikes . . . When Bunny worked out, he worked out. There wasn’t downtime.
His single-minded focus was impressive. And reminded Aditya of Ayesha. He
released a heavy sigh.

“Don’t usually see you Saturdays. What’s up?” Sunny asked.

“I wanted to get some sparring in,” Aditya said as he scratched an ear. He
usually spent Saturdays running and lifting weights—things he could do alone
since he was tired of people after what he did on Friday nights. Today,
however, he didn’t want to be by himself. He knew he’d just think about
Ayesha the whole time. After deliberating through the night and most of today,
he still didn’t know how to break things off without hurting her. It had to
happen, though. And soon. He should call her after he finished sparring and
arrange a meeting. Face to face was best.

“Suit up, then,” Sunny said. “Class starts in an hour. Teacher took the day
off, so loser leads class—little kids’ class.”

That was the perfect incentive to win. Children brandishing sticks were
horrifying. You’d think smaller kids were less dangerous, but they were
actually the worst. They spun around the studio like tornadoes, hitting beneath
your armor or stabbing you in the balls, all by accident. They didn’t know any
better. Kind of like Ayesha in social situations.

And Bunny.

As Aditya put his gear on, his eyes kept gravitating toward Bunny as he
methodically worked through all his strikes ten at a time. Always the same
number and always the same order. If Ayesha ever took up kendo(fencing), Aditya
could see her doing the exact same thing. After last night, there were a lot
more similarities between her and Bunny than he’d originally thought. Bunny
never noticed when he tripped upon sensitive conversation topics, either. He
was also horribly honest, creative in strange ways, and . . .

His gaze jumped to Sunny as an unexpected suspicion rose. “You asked if I
thought Ayesha was like Bunny.”

Sunny undid the laces behind his head and pulled his helmet off. Dark eyes
regarded him steadily. “Yeah, I did.”

“Did she tell you something I should know?” He remembered that night,
how it had felt like he’d interrupted something when he’d found them outside
the club together.

“After she finished hyperventilating from overstimulation, yeah. She told
me something,” Sunny said.

“She was hyperventilating?” he heard himself ask. His stomach dropped,
and coldness prickled over him. What kind of ass was he that he hadn’t
known and hadn’t been there for her? He should have been the one. Not
Sunny.

“Too many people, Aditya. Too much noise, too many flashing lights.
You shouldn’t have taken her there.”

Everything clicked together then. “She’s autistic.”

“You disappointed?” Sunny asked with a tilt of his head.

“No.” The word came out hoarse, and he cleared his throat before he
continued. “But I wish she’d told me.” Why hadn’t she told him? And why
had she let him pressure her into going to the club? She must have known
what it would do to her.

And last night. Shit, it must have been awful. The TV blasting, the piano,
his sisters shouting, everything new . . .

“She just wants you to like her.”

The words punched Aditya in the stomach. He did like her, and knowing
this didn’t impact that at all. She was still the same person. Except he
understood her better now. At least, on a conscious level, he did.
Subconsciously, he felt like he’d always known. Because he’d grown up
with Bunny, he knew how to interact with her. He didn’t even have to think
about it. That had to be why she could relax with him when she couldn’t with
others . . .

A strange charged sensation buzzed through him, tensing his muscles and
putting his hairs on end. Maybe he didn’t have to end their arrangement.
Maybe accepting her proposal wasn’t taking advantage of her. Because she
was autistic, maybe she really could use a practice relationship before she
entered a real one. Maybe he was the perfect one for her to practice with.
Maybe he could help her for real.

He didn’t have to take the entire two lakhs. Come to think of it, he didn’t
have to take any of it. He had credit cards. He could make up the difference
next month. By helping her without financial motivation, he’d finally prove
he wasn’t his dad.

He yanked his gear off and tossed it on the floor in a careless heap. “Put
that away for me, will you? I have to go.”

[naruto9211]

Ayesha’s phone beeped, dragging her out from the world of her data. Her
office materialized, her desk, the computer screens with the command
prompt and all the clever code she’d written, her windows, the darkness
beyond them.

The alert on her phone said, “Dinnertime.”

She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a protein bar. Her mother would
be angry if she saw Ayesha eating one of these for dinner, but she didn’t care.

She just wanted to work.

Absently chewing on the cardboard-y chocolate mixture, she made small
adjustments and refinements in her algorithm. It was good. Maybe some of
her best work.

Her phone buzzed, and the screen lit with a text message from Aditya.

Is that your office on the 3rd floor with the lights on at 6PM on a Saturday?

She dropped her protein bar and stood up to look out the window. 


A familiar form leaned against a lamppost in the parking lot. She immediately dodged out of view, too humiliated to be seen.

Her phone buzzed with another message. Come down. We need to talk.

She sank back into her chair. This was it.

He’d come to end it. 

Her thumbs shook as she composed a short response.


 Just tell me via text message.

I want to talk to you in person.

She threw her phone onto her desk and crossed her arms. 

She was tired and embarrassed. 
She didn’t need to witness the dissolution of their
arrangement in person. 
Or were there additional things he wanted to talk to
her about? More things she’d done wrong?

Maybe she shouldn’t have apologized to his mom? 
Had that been creepy
and intrusive?
Why couldn’t she get anything right?

She ran her hands over her hair and attempted to slow her breathing. 

Did she have to apologize for apologizing?

The phone buzzed yet again, and she flipped it over with the tip of a
trembling finger so she could read it.

I’m going to stay out here until you come down.

She rubbed at her temple. 
Her head throbbed, and sweat glued her clothes
to her body. She needed to go home and shower.

Might as well get this over with.

She tossed her once-bitten protein bar into the trash, saved her work, and
powered down her computer. Tossing her purse over her shoulder, she shut
the lights off and left the room.

The empty halls and low-lit cubicles usually comforted her. Tonight, they
made her lonely and sad. As she strode to the elevator, she wondered how
long it would be before this feeling went away. A week? A month? She
wished everything could go back to normal—like before she’d met Aditya.
These highs and lows in emotion were exhausting.


The click of her heels on marble echoed through the reception area, and
she made herself push the front doors open and walk outside.

Aditya shoved away from the lamppost and dug his hands into his
pockets, looking like his usual gorgeous self in the glow of the streetlights.

“Hi, Ayesha.”

“Hi, Aditya.” Her chest tightened and began aching. 

She drummed her fingers against her thighs until 
she caught him watching and fisted her hands.

“My mom told me you stopped by the shop.”

That was it. She’d really done the wrong thing. Her heart plummeted, and
her face threatened to crumple. 

“I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have done that. I couldn’t bear knowing I’d hurt her.

 I never mean to hurt people, but I do it all the time. I’m working on fixing this,
but it’s so complicated, and I just—I just—I just . . .”

He stepped toward her until they were separated by an arm’s length.

“What are you talking about?”

She stared down at her shoes. She was so tired. When would this be over
so she could go home and sleep? “You’re angry. Because I went to see your
mom. That’s intrusive.”

“I’m not, actually.”

She lifted her gaze and found him watching her with sad eyes. “Then . . . I
don’t understand.”

“As your practice boyfriend, shouldn’t I be here? It’s getting late.”

She took a surprised breath. “After everything I said at your mom’s, you
still want to have a practice relationship with me?”

“Yeah. Things are complicated with my family, and I should have prepped
you ahead of time. I’m sorry I didn’t think to do that.”

When he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, she was
too stunned to speak. He was apologizing to her?

“Are you okay? You look like you’re going to pass out.”

She tensed at his nearness, unsure what to do. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“I don’t remem—oh, I ate something right before you texted.”

“What was it?”

She was not telling him. He’d probably act like her mother and chastise
her. That was the last thing she needed right now.

He brushed his fingers along her jaw before clasping her face in his palm
and tipping her head back. A butterfly-light kiss teased her lips. “You smell
like chocolate. Did you have candy for dinner, Ayesha?”

“Not candy. A protein bar. There are vitamins and stuff in it.”

“You’re coming with me. Don’t argue. I’m going to feed you.” He walked
her to her car, which was parked not far away, and by that time, she was
simply too tired to protest.

The doors unlocked when they sensed the key fob in her purse, and she sat
in the passenger seat. She fumbled for the seat belt, but he caught it and
buckled her in with sure movements. He got in on the other side and pulled
out of the parking lot.

The motion of the car lulled Ayesha into a drowsy half slumber, and it was
several minutes before she realized he’d left downtown and headed across the highway. “Where are we going?”

“Back to my mom’s.”

A surge of adrenaline burned the sleepiness out of Ayesha’s head, and she
sat up in her seat, wide awake. “What? Why?”

“There’s a lot of food there. My mom had me cook for like a hundred
people last night.”

She adjusted her glasses as her heart started ramping up for takeoff. “I’d
really like to go home.”

“Do you have anything to eat at your place?”

“I have Greek yogurt. I’ll eat it. I promise.”

He shook his head as he released a tight huff of breath. “I’ll feed you quick
and then take you home.”

Before she could think up a suitable response, he pulled into the driveway
of the little gray house. When he opened the door, she could hear the same
music carrying faintly on the wind. She gripped her seat belt like a lifeline.

“I can’t handle the TV tonight,” she confessed in a pained whisper. After
last night, her usual tolerance was gone. She’d fall apart and scare everyone.

Aditya would change his mind about the arrangement—she still couldn’t
believe he didn’t want to cancel. Or he’d start walking on eggshells around
her, which was worse.

“Hold on a minute.” He dug his phone out of his pocket and typed in
something on the screen.

Within moments, the music stopped.

“You made them turn it off? Won’t your mom and grandma be unhappy
they can’t watch their shows?” Her entire body flamed with embarrassment.
She despised it when people had to make changes for her.

He gave her a funny look. “It’s just TV.”

“I don’t like it when people have to act differently for me.”

“We don’t mind.” He walked around to her side, opened the door, and held
his hand out. “Will you come in?”

[naruto9211]

When Ayesha’s small hand landed in his palm, the hard knot of tension in
Aditya’s gut loosened, but an awful brew of guilt and sadness
continued to eat at him.

She looked terrible. Her bun was off-center, and messy strands framed her
drawn face. Her normally bright, expressive eyes were dim, swollen, and
shadowed. His heart dipped when he realized she must have cried a lot to
make them that way. He’d made her cry.

This was not his Ayesha.

Well, the sweatiness of her hand was all Ayesha. He squeezed gently and led
her to the front porch.

When he opened the door and prepared to enter, she stiffened and dug in
her feet. “I forgot to bring something. Google says I’m supposed to bring
something. Let me go and—”

“It’s fine, Ayesha.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and propelled her
into the house.

Inside the entryway, she shut her eyes and took a breath. He could see her
absorbing the silence, feel her body relaxing against his arm.

“You know you can always tell me when things bother you, right? Like the
TV last night . . . or the club last week.”

Her eyelids fluttered open, but instead of looking at him, she stared off to
the side, suddenly tense all over again. “Did Sunny say something to you?”

Aditya hesitated to answer. Something told him it was extremely
important to her that he didn’t know, so he did what he’d learned from his dad even though he hated it. He lied. “Only that the noise and crowd were too much for you. Why didn’t you tell me? I wish you had.”


“I already told you I don’t like it when people have to act differently for
me.”

“We could have done something else,” he said in exasperation. The last
thing he wanted was to hurt her or make her uncomfortable.

“Why are there oranges here?” she asked, indicating the plate of oranges
next to the incense sticks and bronze Ganesh statue on the table in the
entryway.

“Don’t change the subject.”

She sighed. “Fine. It embarrasses me. A lot.”

All that self-torture . . . because it embarrassed her to admit she was
different? His insides melted down, and he grabbed her hand and squeezed.
“Can you tell me about the oranges now?”


He smiled at her single-mindedness. “It’s an offering for the Gods.
As a scientist type, she had to think this was silly. He did, too, but it
was something Granny and his mom liked to do.

A small smile played over her lips. “Do you give them other kinds of food,
too? I’d get tired of fruit all the time, myself. How about sweets and chocolates?”

He laughed. “You’ve had enough candy today.”

“What do you do with the fruit now that it’s been offered? I assume the
god don’t actually rise and consume it . . .”

“We eat it. I’m not entirely clear on how long you’re supposed to wait, but
at least a hour or so, I think.”

“Hm.” She inspected the Ganesh statue, angled her head so she could see

behind it. Judging by her expression, she was fascinated,

“Do you feel like you’ve entered the set of an Balaji Tele-serial drama? Is that what’s going on here?” he asked.

“This is better. This is real life.” She pointed to the box of incense hidden
away behind the statue. “Can I light one? Will you show me how to do it?
I’ve always wanted to.”

“Does it take very long?” she asked with a frown.
The corner of his mouth tipped up sheepishly. “I don’t think so, no. Let’s
go say hi to my mom and grandma, and then I’ll feed you. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She followed him through the dining room and into the kitchen where
Supriya and Shailaja were cleaning rice, shredded mint and coriander, and
barbecued chicken into large bowls. They looked to be back on speaking terms.

Considering their track record of enemies one day, best friends the next, that
was about right. Granny and his mom were slicing up heaps of mangoes at the informal seating area where they did all their eating—

the formal dining table was for presentation only. 

Granny was dressed in her favorite green saree, and his mom wore a Traditional Marathi saree even though it wasn’t
holiday season.


“Hi Granny, Mom,” Aditya said.


His mom nodded at him before considering Ayesha. “Welcome back.
Dinner’s ready soon. Sit and eat, ah?”

Ayesha smiled, but her grip on his hand was fierce. “Sure, thank you. It
looks good.”

“These two are Supriya and Shailaja. They’re not twins,” 
he said, bringing her to the kitchen island that was covered with food stored in brand-new Pyrex containers. 

“Supriya—the one with that red stripe in her hair, God, when did
you get that?—is an interior decorator, and Shailaja is a physical therapist.”

“Hi, Ayesha,” they said at the same time. Mom must have told them about
Ayesha’s apology because it looked like they wanted to make a fresh start.
Ayesha gave a tiny wave. “Hi.”

“Is Anu here?” he asked.

“Nope. More work stuff,” Shailaja said.


“On a Saturday,” Supriya added with a sneer.

“Because people work—”

“On Saturdays—”

“All the time.”

The sisters faced one another and traded knowing glances.

Aditya whispered in Ayesha’s ear, “They’ve been finishing each other’s
sentences since they were little. I think they’re aliens.”

Ayesha’s lips trembled into another smile, and she leaned into him. Poor shy
girl. His family had to be overwhelming for her, and this wasn’t even all of
them. He tightened his hand around hers and fought the desire to kiss her.

Something about the way she turned to him like he was her safe place
satisfied caveman needs Aditya hadn’t known he possessed.

He cleared his throat and asked, “Where are pinky and chikki?”

“Upstairs doing homework. They’ll come down when they’re hungry.

They both have tests soon.”

“They’re the two youngest,” he explained to Ayesha. “Chikki aka Chitra is the baby. She’s a second year B.com at St Xaviers.”

“I’m going to forget everyone’s names.” She looked so worried—Aditya
melted a little. Why did she care? These people couldn’t be special to her.
They were just his family.

“That’s okay. I wish I could.”

“Very funny, Aditya,” Shailaja said with a roll of her eyes. “You only have to
remember me. I’m a PT, so if you get carpal tunnel or something, you know
who to look for. Posture is everything.”

“Why couldn’t you be a doctor, then, Shailu?” his mom asked as she peeled her tenth mango. “All I wanted was a doctor in the family, and not one of you could do that for me.”


“Ayesha’s a doctor,” Aditya said with a grin.


Her eyes rounded into giant buttons. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You have a PhD. That makes you a doctor. And you went to
the ISB, the best college for economics in the INDIA, probably
the world. You graduated as topper of your batch.”

As he’d known would happen, his mom perked up with interest. “That’s
fantastic.”


Ayesha blushed, bringing much needed color to her cheeks. “How did
you . . .”

“Google stalking.”

Her eyes searched his, and a surprised smile hinted at the corners of her
mouth. “You stalked me?”

He shrugged. It was his turn to feel awkward now.

“Okay, lovebirds, dinner’s ready. Come eat,” Supriya said. She set down a
bowl filled with steaming hot rice in front of Granny and kissed her temple like she would a baby.


Once they’d seated themselves at the table, Aditya watched as Ayesha
carefully mimicked Supriya’s food preparation ritual, pickled mango and salad, and fish curry to her plate of  rice.

“Have you ever had this before?” he asked.

She shook her head absently as she mixed everything together and took a
bite. Her eyes opened wide, and she grinned as she covered her mouth.

“You’re a good cook.”


“Aditya is very good with his hands,” his mom said with a proud nod.

Supriya rolled her eyes before she smirked suggestively and asked Ayesha,
“Do you agree? Is he ‘good with his hands’?”

His mom scowled at Supriya, but Ayesha merely smiled and nodded. 
“I think so.”


Supriya arched her eyebrows and sent Aditya an is she for real? look.

As dinner progressed, Aditya watched Ayesha through a new lens provided
by his recent discovery. He didn’t notice so much when it was just the two of
them, but she had trouble with eye contact. She rarely spoke unless someone
asked her a direct question, and then her answers were short and to the point.

When she listened, however, her focus was the kind of stuff she probably used on complex economic problems. She frowned, hanging on every word like it was of utmost importance.

These people mattered to her because they mattered to him.

“Where did you grow up, Ayesha?” his mom asked after they’d moved to mangoes.

“Pali hills and Bandra. My parents still live in bandra,” Ayesha provided.

His mom’s eyebrows climbed at the mention of the wealthiest pin code in
Mumbai. “Do you like babies?”

Aditya almost dropped his fruit, and his voice was gruff with horror


when he said, “Mom.”

She shrugged innocently.


“You don’t have to answer that,” he said to Ayesha.

She met his eyes like she hadn’t with everyone else. Her facial muscles
relaxed, but the intensity of her concentration didn’t. Her beautiful mind
focused on him. Aditya admitted to himself he loved it.

Ayesha lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know if I like babies. I haven’t been
around that many. My parents want grandchildren, though. My mother,
mostly.”

“That has to be why she keeps setting up blind dates for you,” Aditya
said.

Ayesha nodded. “I think so.”

“Meddling mothers.”

At his comment, Ayesha’s lips curved into a smile, and her eyes shined. He
forgot what they’d been talking about. If he couldn’t kiss her soon, he would
go mad.

“When you get to my age,” his mom said, crossing her arms over her
chest, “you want to play with babies. It’s natural.”

Supriya jumped to her feet. “Help me with the dishes, Ayesha?”

“Sure, I’d love to help,” Ayesha said. 

“Is there a particular way you do it?”


“Just whatever way gets them clean.”

Shailaja cleared the table as Supriya and Ayesha piled things into the sink.

 His mom and Granny stared at him with serious expressions. 
He braced himself for something bad.

“She won me at the shop today. It’s important to know how to admit when
you’re wrong. You should keep her,” Mom said in Marathi.

He shook his head and thinned his lips. “It’s not that easy.”

“Why?”

“We’re too different. She’s really smart and makes loads of money.”

“You’re smart,” his mom insisted.

He rolled his eyes.


“You’re not like your dad wanted, but that doesn’t mean you’re not smart.
And you don’t make as much because you’re busy helping me at the shop. I
told you I don’t need you anymore. You let so many opportunities pass
because of me. I don’t want that for you, Aditya, and I don’t want you to
lose this girl, either. She’s a good one. Keep her.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is. She likes you. You like her.”

If he had less control, he would have pointed out his mom’s relationship
with his dad, but that was hitting below the belt. His dad loved his mom—in
his own way. But he also loved cheating. Aditya would never understand
why his mom took his dad back every single time.

“Just promise to try, all right? I like this one,” his mom said.

Aditya could have laughed. Of all the girls he’d ever brought home, she
liked the one he couldn’t have. His client. His rich, highly educated, beautiful client, who was paying him to help her learn how to get someone better.


“You’re just saying that because she’s doing dishes.”

Aditya knew the way to his mom’s heart, and it wasn’t food. It was
cleaning, doing dishes. He didn’t have to do dishes because he cooked. For
whatever reason, none of the women in this house cooked. He’d had to learn
in order to survive.

“She doesn’t mind working,” his mom said. “That’s important.”
“Mmmmm,” Granny agreed.

For a moment, the three of them watched as Ayesha washed bowls, rinsed
them, and handed them to Supriya to dry. She’d rolled her sleeves up and
worked with great attention, listening and smiling distractedly as Shailaja
chatted with her.

“Take her home,” Granny said. “She looks tired.”


His mom nodded. “Take her back to her home.”

He pushed away from the table and went to wrap his arms around Ayesha’s
waist. Because he couldn’t resist, he ran his lips down her neck so she
shivered. The soapy sponge paused in midscrub, and her expression was
confused as she gazed at him over her shoulder. He slid a hand down her
delicate forearm and hijacked the sponge from her. He finished washing the
frying pan and the rest of the dishes with her in front of him, occasionally
pausing to kiss her ear, her neck, or her jaw.

Supriya slanted him a go get a room look as he handed her the last greasy bowl
—one of many that he’d made his mom promise never to stick in the
microwave again—and he could tell she was dying to say something dry and
caustic but was holding back because she didn’t want to embarrass Ayesha.

Ayesha’s eyelids had gone heavy, and her nails dug into the tile counter as
she tried unsuccessfully not to respond to him.

“Ready to go home?” he whispered.

She nodded.

They said their good-byes and piled into Ayesha’s car, and he pressed the
mini cooper's ignition button.


Before Ayesha could buckle her seat belt, he asked, “What are you seeing in
terms of living arrangements and frequency of visits?”

“What do most couples do when they’re in committed relationships?”

“They live together, and they see each other every day. Is that what you
want?” It was strange hearing himself say the words out loud. These were
things he’d spent his entire adult life avoiding, but with Ayesha, he might be
ready for them. If she wanted them, too.

She rubbed her cheek on her shoulder. “I want that, then. I have a guest
bedroom you can use. But if you’re uncomfortable staying with me, I
understand. Not all couples live in the same house.”

“What if I want to share your bed, Ayesha?” he asked in a low tone.

Despite how much he wanted to help her and prove he wasn’t his dad, he
wasn’t sure he could do this if sex was off the table. He wanted her too much.
Besides, most of her problems stemmed from lack of confidence. Bed was a
great place to work on that.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said.

“That wasn’t the question. I know I don’t have to.”

Staring out the passenger window, she said, “My bed is open to you if you
want it, but you know where my skill levels are at. That hasn’t changed since
our last time together.”

He smiled at that. She sounded worried about pleasing him. Something his
clients almost never cared about.

“Let’s seal the deal.”

“Oh, all right.” She pulled a hand out from under her thigh and held it out
toward him.


“We’re going into a practice relationship. I think we should kiss on it.”
She locked eyes with him as her lips parted in surprise, and that was all the
invitation he needed. Leaning across the center divide, he kissed her. He
meant for it to be a seductive, slowly enflaming kind of kiss, but the sighing
sound she made drove him straight out of his mind. He took her mouth with
hungry strokes of his tongue. She wound her fingers through his hair, scbangd
them down his chest and abdomen, and tucked them into his jeans. Yes.
Finally, they could get back to checking boxes—

Knuckles rapped against the driver’s-side window. A muffled voice spoke
incoherent words.

He launched himself back into his seat before powering the window down.
Supriya crossed her arms and tapped her bare foot on the pavement before
she bent down, narrowed her eyes, and clearly mouthed the word pervert at
him. “Mom wanted me to remind you your headlights are lighting up Granny’s room so she can’t sleep.”


“Sorry, forgot. We’ll head home now.”

Peering into the car, she said, “Good night, Ayesha. Hope we see you again
soon.”

Ayesha swiped at the loose hairs falling over her face and cleared her throat
with a cough. “Good night, Supriya.”


She sent him one last  disgusting look and walked back into the house.
Seconds later, his phone lit up with rapid text messages from her.

Geez Aditya, go easy on her.

You’ll scare her away, and we all really like her.

Honestly, in the DRIVEWAY? What are you, 16?

He choked on a laugh and handed the phone to Ayesha so she could read the
messages.

She bit down on the tip of a fingernail as she grinned. “I’m not scared.”

He ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath, and adjusted the
painfully stiff flesh rising against his zip. “Let’s get you home.”

He drove with gratuitous disregard of the law through the empty
residential streets, envisioning himself peeling her librarian clothes off and
pinning her against the wall, the floor—he didn’t care where.

It was going to be so good with Ayesha, spectacular even. He was going to
—he glanced at Ayesha, trying to decide what to do first, and his hopes
plummeted. He was going to carry her into her house and put her to bed.

In the few minutes since they’d left his mom’s, she’d fallen fast asleep.
Her head rolled to the side, and her glasses sat on her nose at a crooked angle.

She didn’t so much as flinch when her garage cranked open and her tires
squeaked over the marble floor.

He tried to shake her awake, but she didn’t react. Her breathing remained
deep and even, her body relaxed. With a sigh, he lifted her out of the car and
headed toward her bedroom—their bedroom as of tonight.

[naruto9211]

Ayesha awakened by slow breeze. She registered the sunlight on her face,
the distant barking of a neighborhood dog, and Aditya’s delicious smell.

It was all around her, warm and concentrated, and she burrowed into the
sheets with a happy sigh.

A heavy weight over her side kept her from rolling the sheets around her
like a egg roll, and she frowned. What was that? She lifted the blankets and
stared in shock at the muscular arm wrapped around her waist. Her naked
waist. She’d slept in her bra and panties last night.

And she hadn’t gone through her night routine. She was covered in
nastiness. Her mouth. It was probably forming an ecosystem for antibiotic-
resistant strains of bacteria. She shot up in bed, her entire being focused on
running straight to the bathroom. Floss, brush, shower, pajamas. Floss, brush,
shower, pajamas.


Aditya yanked her back down and kissed her nape. “Not yet.”

“I’m gross. I have to get clean. I—”

He sucked on her neck and pulled her hips back as he rocked forward,
making her achingly aware of the firm flesh prodding against the backs of her
thighs through his boxers.

Her body went into total system failure. Her limbs weakened. Between her
thighs, she flushed and tingled with wanting. The intensity of her desire
frightened and embarrassed her. 

She needed to be in control of herself and her
body. Control was gone.

“Good morning.” His voice was a husky rasp that sent shivers down her
spine.

“G-good mor—” A hand dipped inside her bra and cupped her breast. 

He
stroked the nip until it ached and pinched, sending a burst of sensation straight
to her core. When he headed downward, smoothing a hand over her belly, her
stomach muscles clenched.


“I want to touch you here.” He palmed her mound with a bold grasp, and the
heat of his touch spread through the cotton of her panties, searing her.

She gripped his wrist, fully intending to pull him away, but her hands
refused to cooperate.

His forearm was firm with defined muscle, his skin
smooth, utterly distracting.

“Is that permission?” he whispered.

She’d given him permission last night.

 She wanted this, but she didn’t
know how to handle this side of herself. 

Her body told her to say yes. Her
mind told her to say no.

Her body won the fight, and her hips arched against his hand. He edged
the crotch of her panties aside. 

He kissed her nape as he traced the slick
entrance to her body with his fingertips. 

A sharp breath tore from her lungs.
Panic and pleasure collided.

“You’re wet already, Ayesha. You’re like a Ferrari. Zero to sixty in
Four seconds.”

“You like Ferrari's?”

 She tried desperately to cling to coherent
thought. She needed to think at all times, to weigh her actions and her words.

When she let go, she always made mistakes. She did the wrong thing, hurt
people, mortified herself.

He continued touching her lightly, trailing around and around her opening
in maddening circles.

 His teeth scbangd against her neck before he licked and
kissed her.

 Goose bumps spread over her skin.

“Yes, I like them. No, don’t get me one,” he said.

“Why not?” She rubbed her feet against his shins, dug her fingernails into
his arm. Push him away. Pull him closer.
Regain control. Let go.

“It doesn’t suit my lifestyle, and my mom would be very, very curious how
I got it.” 

He emphasized the word very with barely there strokes over her
clitoris. 

She spasmed and trembled at the edge of release.

He bit her earlobe.

 “You’re about to go off, aren’t you? That’s all it took.”

“It’s because I’ve been fantasizing about you ever since last Friday.” Oh
God, what had she just said?

He removed his touch and sat up. 

His expression was soft as he brushed
tendrils of hair away from her face. “What does Fantasy Aditya do?”

“Everything.”

He laughed before his eyes went intense.

 “Does he make you come with
his mouth? Real Aditya wants to do that.”

She squirmed as the need to please him warred with her inhibitions. That
was one thing Fantasy Aditya hadn’t done.

 “I’m more interested in giving
oral sex than receiving it.”

“Maybe we should work on it,” he said in an unusually subdued tone. 

“I’m
not the only guy who loves going down on women.”

She sank her teeth into her lip and fisted the sheets. Women. Plural. For a
regular man, that meant anywhere from one to ten, maybe twenty. For
Aditya . . . hundreds. It might even be thousands, for all she knew. A new
type of anxiety weighed down on her.

 Could she possibly measure up against
all of his past clients?

“I don’t want to disgust you.”

“You won’t.”

“How do I make it good for you? Are some women better at receiving oral
sex than others? What do they do?” She badly wanted to be good at it. 

She
wanted to blow all the others out of the water—but there had been so many of
them.

“What is going on in that beautiful brain of yours?” he asked in
bafflement.

“I just—I want—I need—I think—”

“No more thinking,” he said as he touched a thumb to her lips.

He ran warm hands from her shoulders down to her wrists, interlaced their
fingers and squeezed their palms together.

 Her muscles tensed as she worried
she wasn’t responding the right way. What was she supposed to do? Now that
she understood he wanted her to feel pleasure, she wanted to give it to him,
wanted to make him happy.


“Ayesha, you're  distracted .” His eyes searched hers, worried now.

“I’m sorry.” She felt the sweat between their hands and fingers and
winced. Her heart pounded. She was screwing this up.

He gathered her in his arms and held her, smoothing a hand through her
hair in slow sweeps.

 “This is because of oral sex? We don’t have to have it.”

Ayesha pressed her forehead to his neck and breathed in his scent. By slow
degrees, she relaxed into his embrace. “I’m very competitive.”

He brushed a kiss against her temple. “Okay, but how does that factor into
anything?”

“It means I want to please you more than all your other clients have.”

“Ayesha, I’m the one who’s being paid to please here.”

“I’m not paying you for sex anymore, remember?”

He made a frustrated growling sound and held her tighter.

 “What am I
going to do with you? I have you hot and naked in my arms, and you’re still
not ready.”

She sighed and rested against him. She idly traced the dragon scales on his
bicep. “We could floss, brush, shower, and dress.”

He threw the covers off. “Let’s do it, then.”

[naruto9211]

“Don’t you have any casual clothes?”

Aditya swept her damp hair to the side and kissed her neck as she
stared at her wardrobe, trying to make her clothing selection for the day.
“I didn’t need them when I started working, so I gave them all away,” she
said.

“You had them, though? Or were they all knee-length skirts and button-
downs?” As he spoke, his arms stole around her bathrobe-clad waist and
hugged her to his naked chest. Her body couldn’t decide if it wanted to relax
or stiffen.

She suspected he was seducing her. It was almost working. It was
definitely making her mind fuzzy, but that was a good thing. He was
distracting her from her headache and the fact that she was terribly off-
schedule today, something that normally filled her with irritation and
frustration until she could start over and do things right.

“They were skirts and button-downs. How do you know me so well?”
His hot breath fanned over her ear as he chuckled. “You are my favorite
puzzle lately. I want to see you in sundresses, Ayesha.”

“I don’t have any.”

“It’s Sunday. We could go shopping.”

She turned around, feeling a spike of anxiety at the thought of going out in
public, going somewhere new, and worst of all, trying on itchy, scratchy
clothes that were probably dusted from warehouse floors. 

“Can you make me sundresses?

I was serious when I said I wanted custom Aditya designs. 

I’ll have to get anything I buy seriously altered before I can wear it,
anyway.”

Instead of answering, he pulled a pink shirt off its hanger and inspected the
inside seams. “French seams. The fabric is . . .” He rubbed it between his
fingers. “It’s plain cotton.”

“I love cotton. Silk, too. I don’t mind synthetic fabrics like acrylic and
Lycra, as long as they’re soft, but I can’t stand crisp denim or wool or
cashmere.”

A pleased smile curved over his mouth as he continued to check out the
construction of her shirt. “My practice girlfriend might know more about
textiles than I do. Impressive.”

His compliment made her feel warm and bubbly, but her mind snagged on
her “practice girlfriend” title.

 She didn’t like it—namely the “practice” half—
but she knew she had to be realistic about what she could and couldn’t have.

Better to focus on the irony of her tactile defensiveness leading them to a
common interest. She restrained herself from reading off fabric types and
qualities like an encyclopedia.

He hung her shirt back up neatly and stepped in front of her, resting his
hands on her hips. “I really want you in sundresses, Ayesha. I love the pencil
skirts. They do fantastic things to one of my favorite parts of you, but they’ve
also been torturing me.”

“How? Why?”

“They don’t let me do this.” Watching her with heated eyes, he drew the
end of her bathrobe up. It made a brushing sound against his jeans as he bared her thighs to the cool air. His palm scbangd up the outside of her leg, paused at her hip, and reached behind her to squeeze her perfectly rounded ass.

The black curls between her thighs were visible, and she caught him
eyeing them darkly.

 Without asking, without hesitating, without giving her
time to think, he slipped his hand over her hip and down to her pelvis. 

Daring fingertips threaded through the hair and massaged the peak of her mound.


Her skin burned where he touched her, and her knees weakened. She
braced herself on his shoulders.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered as he leaned down to kiss her.

The taste of his clean mouth was heavenly, and a high-pitched sound
hummed from her throat as she kissed him back. She tried to kiss him as well
as he’d taught her, but she couldn’t concentrate. His fingers were doing
diabolical things to her. 

It was all she could do to stand, and she wasn’t doing
a good job of it. Each stroke of his fingers melted her a little more. 

She was starting to tremble.

Without breaking the kiss, he picked her up and carried her to the bed. The
feel of her back sinking into the blankets brought her to reality. They
were finally going to do this. Sex. Without structure, without a plan. She was
going to be bad at it, and he’d have to show her what to fix, how to improve,
and she’d try very hard to take the criticism in stride even though it
humiliated—
He tore her bathrobe open, and his mouth fastened on her nipple, drawing
deeply. She arched into him with a gasp that turned into a moan when his
hand slid between her thighs again and stroked her clitoris. Her sex clenched so hard it hurt.


“Shhhhhh,” he whispered against her breast.

One long finger slipped into her, and grateful sighs and murmurs tumbled
from her lips. That was exactly what she needed. He worked a second finger
in, and the stretching sensation had her head falling back. No, this was what
she needed. 

Her heels dug into the bed as she pushed into the penetration. His
fingers eased in and out, curling against her to breathtaking effect.
When he removed his touch, she couldn’t bite back a protesting sound.

“Aditya, more, I—”

He lifted his glistening fingers to his lips and sucked them into his mouth.
The intensity of his eyes coupled with his devilish grin had her bunching the
blankets in her hands as her core tightened on itself.

The caresses resumed with deep, slow thrusts. It was good, so good, but he
wasn’t touching her where she needed it. Her hips writhed as she tried to
relieve the growing ache. 

When he withdrew again, she stroked her hands down her stomach
in rampant frustration, but her own touch did nothing to
excite her.

He gripped her knees, pulled them apart to bare her to his eyes. His
chest expanded on a sharp inhalation, and his dragon tattoo rippled. His throat worked on a loud swallow. “I should have known you’d have the prettiest little—”

“Aditya, don’t say it,” she said quickly.

He paused, considered her with a naughty glint in his eyes. “You mean . . .
pussy?”


Flames burned her face, and she wanted to hide inside herself.

The corner of his mouth kicked up. “No wonder my mom likes you so
much. It’s very desi to be modest about sex. I didn’t even know the
correct marathi word for girl parts until I was twenty.”


Her face burned even hotter, and the blush spread down her neck to her
chest, touching everything. “That’s a cat. They purr and catch mice. Me—that part—it doesn’t—the image is so ridiculous—I can’t—”


“It’s a pussy, Ayesha, and it’s wet for me, and I want to eat it.” Focusing a
dark look between her legs, he traced her folds, dipped inside briefly, and
began circling the part of her that wanted him most. “And this, this is your
clit. It wants my mouth so bad it’s bright reddish pink. Put us both out of our misery, and let me taste you. 

If you hate it, I’ll stop.”

It hit her then that he truly wanted this, her. He liked what he saw. His
unabashed craving for her most private parts was real. And dirty. And . . .
exciting. A secret Ayesha woke up and stretched, drawn to Aditya and his
words.

“Will you be disappointed if I don’t like it and I don’t respond like other
women?” She wanted to like it, wanted to orgasm for his mouth like so many
other women had, and because of that, her arousal started fading away as
performance anxiety took its place.

“If you don’t like it, then we’ll move on.” Running his hands down her
inner thighs, he spread her wider. The tip of his tongue pressed against his
gorgeous upper lip.

He bent down close to her wet flesh, making her nervousness spike to
heart-pounding levels, and took a deep breath. “I’m beginning to understand
your addiction to my smell. It’s a good thing you don’t smell like this
everywhere, though. I’d have a constant hard-on for you. I’m having enough
trouble as it is.”

A gentle closed-mouth kiss landed on her clitoris, and her entire body
stiffened. That was not what she’d expected.

“Hate it?” he asked.

“I—I . . .”

Another kiss, followed by a slow tasting. He hummed his approval and
covered her with his mouth, sucking with slight pressure as his tongue laved
her. Soft and warm and delicious. Ayesha’s body went limp as heat bloomed
inside her.

“I can tell you don’t like it,” he rasped. “Just let me . . .” His tongue
stroked into her, lapping at the moisture that flooded from her. “One last
taste.” He returned to her clitoris, scbanging his teeth against the sensitive
nerves before he kissed her again, sipped at her, licked her.

She buried her face in the blankets as pleasure concentrated low and deep.
His tongue was so clever, but release stayed just out of reach. This was too
new. Her body was in a state of shock from the sensations bombarding her.
When he stopped she was going to cry.

Two fingers worked into her, and her eyes rolled back into her head. He
began a steady rhythm as his tongue flickered over her, and she couldn’t
prevent her hips from rising to meet his thrusts. Oh God, she was riding his
hand, smothering his face with her pussy. 

That had to be bad. She told herself to stop. She couldn’t.

Somehow, she found her hands tangled in his short hair. Her body was
coiling tighter, grasping at his fingers, so wet now she could hear the slippery sounds every time he drove back into her.

“I’ll stop, Ayesha. Clearly . . .” His tongue rubbed over her fast and hard,
and she clenched helplessly around his fingers. “Clearly, you hate this.”

“Aditya.” That breathy, needy voice was hers. She didn’t care. She
rubbed her hungry flesh against his tongue, nearly sobbing when he took her
back into his mouth.

He sucked with perfect pressure, and she came apart with strong,
wrenching convulsions. He rode out the orgasm with her, dragging out the
pleasure with soothing flicks of his tongue. 

As the aftershocks spaced out, he pressed a parting kiss to her sex and rose over her to blanket her with his body. She buried her face against his chest, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than she’d ever been.


She’d let him do that to her. She’d made all those sounds, lost all control.

“You came on me like a porn star, Ayesha. I almost spilled in my jeans.”

“Did it take me too long? Was that a lot of . . . work?” It discomforted her
that she’d been the only one to derive pleasure from that act. She much
preferred to be on the giving side of things.

He laughed softly. “I drew it out on purpose, Ayesha. You were sexy as
hell.” Peeling away from her, he sat back on his heels and extracted a small
foil from his pocket. “Do you want to?”

She pushed herself up, and the bathrobe slipped off her shoulders. She
stifled the reflex to cover her nudity but couldn’t bring herself to meet his
eyes. 

Her pulse was out of control. “Yes, I want to.” She took the foil from his
hand and tore it open with shaky fingers.


He got down from the bed and unbuttoned and unzipped his zip. His
muscles bunched and shifted, and the dragon tattoo winked at her as he
stepped free of his pants with masculine grace. This was Aditya in all of his
naked glory. He was perfection. Even that part of him.

Oh God, especially that part of him. His erection stood at attention, thick
and veined, in flawless proportion to the rest of his beautiful body. She’d just
had the most intense orgasm of her life, but she wanted more. She wanted
that. It made her mouth water, and she’d never given a man oral sex.

She couldn’t remember how to breathe as he kneeled on the bed and
wrapped one of her hands around him. He was so hot, satiny soft, but rigid
underneath. Want, want, want. In any way she could. In whatever way he
liked.

“Ayesha, the look on your face.” His voice was hoarse, almost a groan. He
guided her fist up and down his length, saying, “This is my cock. When you
want it, when you need it, that’s the word I want you to use.”

Unable to speak, she nodded. Secret Ayesha loved the idea of demanding
his . . . cock . . . and him providing it, though she didn’t think she’d ever be
able to get that word past her lips. Not unless they were talking about farm
animals. Probably not even then.

“Do you want to put it on me?” he asked, indicating the forgotten condom
in her other hand.

She licked her lips and cleared her throat. “Yes.”

Her hands weren’t steady, so she and Aditya ended up doing it together.

When they finished, he pulled her close, and she shivered at the feel of their
skin coming in contact. Her nipples grazed his chest, and his solid length
burned against her lower belly. He swept his hands up and down her back as
he angled his head, trying to catch her gaze.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

She trained her eyes on the notch at the base of his throat and hunched her
shoulders forward. “I’m feeling very self-conscious.”

“We’re both naked.”

She didn’t know how to explain that it was on the inside that she was
feeling naked. If he looked into her eyes, he’d see all of her, the person she
kept hidden away. No one wanted to see that. This was supposed to be fun
and educational, not soul-baring.

He tipped her chin back, and she caught a glimpse of tender eyes before
she squeezed her own shut.

“Kiss me, please,” she said.

Warm lips took hers, tasting of her and him and sex. His hands grew
urgent as he caressed her. 
He grabbed her thigh and hooked her leg around his
hips, opening her to him. With a flex of his hips, he stroked over her sex.

 The friction sent blood pooling fast and hot.

“Now, Ayesha.”

She wrapped her arms around the barrel of his chest and pressed her lips to
his neck. “I’m ready.”

He lowered her to the bed, and his body covered her. He nuzzled against
her jaw and ear, pressed soft kisses to her cheek, the corner of her mouth, her lips. 

“You have to talk to me, okay? If something hurts, if you don’t like it, if
you want something more, if it’s perfect. Say everything.”

Eyes still shut, she said, “I’ll . . . try.”

Unexpectedly, he flipped her around so she was on her hands and knees. 

“I think you’ll feel less self-conscious this way.”


She opened her eyes, taking in the rumpled pillows and wooden
headboard. He was right. This was better. He couldn’t see her. She
immediately relaxed. 

“Will it be good for you this way?” The other men had
all preferred the missionary position.

“No, it’s going to be excellent.” Rough hands glided down her back and
massaged her with voluptuous motions. His firm chest brushed against her
shoulder blades as he propped an arm on the bed next to her. Reaching in
front of her, he slid a hand up her inner thigh. 

He searched through her folds and sank his fingers deep, working her until her hips were rocking and fresh moisture drenched the both of them. Withdrawing, he teased her clitoris with gentle touches.

“Aditya . . .”

“Ayesha,” he replied, breathing heavily in her ear.

Something hard prodded at the entrance of her body and pushed inside
slowly. Ayesha stopped breathing. Sex had hurt in the past, but there was
nothing now but a sensuous stretching that went on and on until Aditya
seated himself fully inside her. 

She tried to swallow, to talk. Couldn’t.

They fit perfectly.


For long moments, Aditya remained immobile. Sensing the tension in his
body, she looked at him over her shoulder.

“Aditya?”

His face was drawn as if in pain. “I’ve been wanting this too long. It’s too
good. You feel . . .” He exhaled. “If I move, I’m going to lose it.”

She couldn’t stop herself from smiling. She wasn’t alone in this. “Move.”

She arched her back and rocked against him. The motion pushed him in even
deeper, filled her.

A raw groan escaped his throat. “Ayesha, I’m serious. Give me a moment to
cool down. This is our first time. I want fireworks for you.”

Our first time. He made it sound like there would be lots of times. The
thought made her so happy her heart wanted to burst. She didn’t need
fireworks. She just needed him.

Wet kisses landed on her neck, interspersed with teasing nips and greedy
licks. He traced the folds stretched tightly around him before sliding his slick
fingertips higher. When he rubbed her there, she clenched on him and
moaned.

Only then did he begin moving. He withdrew, thrust back into her,
retreated, returned, picking up a driving rhythm. The twin assaults of his
fingers and invading tool kindled flames beneath her skin that spread outward in widening rings.

“Ayesha,” he said with a groan. “You feel too good. Sweet Ayesha, my
Ayesha.”

His words soothed and excited. She tried to speak as he’d asked her to, but
all that came out were gasps and sighs of pleasure. Instead, she communicated how she felt with her body. She spread her thighs wider and writhed to match him thrust for thrust. Did he like that? Or was she being too debauched? The hand propped against the mattress captured hers, and he interlaced their fingers.

“Just like that,” he whispered. “Perfect.”

Her sex fisted tight. For a timeless moment, she hovered on the brink,
breathless, possessed, loved. The orgasm crashed over her. 

She rippled around him as he drove into her relentlessly. She attempted to meet his thrusts, but the strong convulsions gripping her body stole her coordination.


His lips traveled from her neck to her jaw, and when she turned toward
him blindly, he captured her mouth, stroking his tongue deep. The caresses
between her legs did not ease, and before the last orgasm had finished, she
felt another building. Her muscles fluttered around his impalement, clamped
down, and exploded yet again. With a hoarse groan, he surged into her one
last time.

He rubbed his jaw against her cheek and neck and lowered her shaking
body to the bed, held her close like she was his. She stroked clumsy hands
over the strong arms wrapped around her and held him back.

Until she remembered sex didn’t mean anything to him, and she loosened
her grip somewhat. Aditya enjoyed physical intimacy. That was all.

Emotion clogged her throat, anyway. If this was just practice, she never
wanted the real thing. How long could she live in a fantasy?

[naruto9211]

As Aditya embraced a boneless, contented Ayesha, his heart stumbled
around his chest like a drunken man.

That hadn’t been practice fucking for a practice relationship or pro bono
fucking to prove he was better than his dad.

He’d fucked hundreds of women, but he’d never been so in tune with one
woman’s body. He’d never been so desperate to please or so elated when she
cried his name and came for him again and again and again.

He didn’t know what that had been, but it sure as hell hadn’t been fucking.

She hugged him tighter, pressed sloppy kisses to his shoulder and neck,
and grinned up at him. She clawed her fingers on his chest—apparently
this was not always a bad sign—and it tickled like hell.

He flattened her fingers against his heart to still their tapping and tried to
put himself in a professional state of mind. “Look at you. I’m expecting
another five-star review.”

“Six stars.” Her grin widened, and chocolate eyes shone at him and forgot
to dart away, letting him really look at her for the first time that morning. It
made him feel like he’d won something priceless, kicked the breath straight
out of his lungs.

“You’re bad for my ego. It’s big enough as it is,” he made himself say in a
light tone.

“You don’t act egotistical. You’re very modest but confident. It’s one of
the many things I love about you.”

Love?

Sharpness panged inside his chest.

She could never love him. He felt the certainty with every fiber of himself.

Love required trust, and only a fool would trust him. He was his father’s son.
But he could prove he was more if he did this right. That was all he could
ask for.

 He glanced at the clock and was amazed to see it wasn’t even ten yet.
The events of the morning had felt life-changing, but they’d only been awake
for two hours.

“I’m starving, and I need coffee,” he said. “I also need to get my car. All
of my clean clothes are in there.”

Mostly, he needed some space. She was getting too close, and he needed to
put distance between them. He got out of bed and pulled on his jeans, fully
aware of his audience’s appreciative gaze.

 He felt a little ridiculous about it, but maybe he did it slowly. Maybe he flexed his abs and biceps as he zipped his fly and buttoned his pants. Because really, putting on pants required a lot of muscle.

“Hurry up and get ready, Ayesha.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why?”

“We’re going shopping. Couples do that on Sundays.”

• • •


Ayesha pursed her lips as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. 

Aditya had just opened up an entire new branch of apparel to her.

Yoga clothes.

In particular, yoga pants.

She was very possibly in heaven. The pants didn’t itch at all, and they
were tight. She loved clothes that hugged her. Even better, they made her legs
and butt look outstanding. She looked like a dancer. Or a yogi. Or some
hybridized version of the two.

“Come out so I can see,” Aditya said from outside the changing room.

Biting her lip to hide her smile, she opened the door and stepped out.

His crooked grin came out in full force, and his rare dimple winked.

“Knew it.”

“Do you like it?” She smoothed a hand over her tummy and turned in a
slow circle.

He stood up from the waiting chair and approached her, running
appraising eyes over her curves. 

He slid a hand down the length of her neck to
her shoulder and across the tight-fitting long sleeve so he 
could interlace their fingers. 

“I love it.”

“I’m sexy in this.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her near. 

“Very sexy.”

He brushed his lips over hers and tickled his way to her ear and neck, making her squirm and bite back giggles that would have been decidedly unsexy.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a shopgirl watching her with open
envy. The girl mouthed the words So lucky, and Ayesha grinned even though
she had mixed feelings. None of this was real. She was paying for it. Not that
she minded the expense. Aditya was worth every penny.

“I assume you’re going to buy them?”

“One of every color.”

“I have to put my foot down. Not the fluorescent orange with yellow spots.
It hurts me,” he said with a wince.

“No fluorescent orange and yellow, got it. Oh, they have dresses.” Her
eyes rounded at the possibilities.

When they stopped for lunch at a bakery in the Taj, three enormous bags of apparel took up the space by their feet. He insisted they had the best sandwiches in Mumbai,

As light afternoon shopper traffic passed by and the sun shone down
through the trees, Ayesha decided she might want to do this again.

Her regular Sunday schedule was shot, but she was open to developing a new weekend routine. She was adaptable, especially when things involved Aditya.

Dressed in casual khakis and a white button-down open at the collar and
rolled up to his elbows, he looked magazine delicious—as usual. It occurred
to her they’d spent the entire morning shopping for her. How selfish and self-
absorbed of her.

“Do you want to look at men’s attire?” She considered the shops around
them, wondering if any of them appealed to him.

He shook his head with a funny smile. “No, thanks.”

“Are you sure? Would you let me get you something?” When his
expression went uncomfortable, her heartbeat picked up, and she tried to
make light of the situation by adding, “Since you won’t let me get you a
Ferrari.”

He sent her a searching look. “Would you really get me a Ferrari if I
wanted it?”

She stared down at the crumbs on her sandwich wrapper and nodded. “I
can afford it, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t really know how to talk
about money matters, but I make a lot, and there aren’t many things I want to
spend it on. I would love to get you a car. Especially if—” She cut herself off
before she could say something that would make him angry.

“If what?”

“I’d rather not say. I’m pretty sure it’s not appropriate.”

He tilted his head to the side, and his expression grew shuttered. “I’d like
to hear it.”

“I was going to say . . .” She took an uncomfortable breath. “Especially if
another woman got you the one you have.”

He focused on folding his sandwich wrapper into a neat square. “Are you
asking if the car was a gift?”

She was pretty sure it was, and it infuriated her. “Yes.”

“It was, actually.”

“From the woman from the club.”

His brow wrinkled. “How do you know that?”

“She’s the client who won’t leave you alone.” The memory of the woman
kissing him flashed in her mind. Not only that, but
he’d had sex with her—probably multiple times. She dug her nails into the
glass surface of the table as her breathing went fast and bitter.

He settled a hand on top of hers, and her heart rate eased. “I don’t like
getting those kinds of gifts. Please don’t, okay?”

“Okay.” But she couldn’t help feeling he kept the gift because he liked the
woman who’d given it to him. Wasn’t that what you did when someone meant
something to you? You kept the things they gave you?

She wanted him to keep something from her. The fact that he wasn’t
allowing her to give him anything made her feel almost desperate.

“You’ve got your work cut out for you if you’re going to start getting
jealous of my past clients, Ayesha,” he said, his eyes level and his voice
somber, like his escorting was a sad reality they had to accept.

Question after question piled on her tongue. If he didn’t like it, why did he
do it? He was so talented with clothes. Why didn’t he make more of it instead
of dry cleaning and altering it? What did he use his escorting money on? 

Did he have some secret addiction? Was he in danger?

Why couldn’t he be hers for real?

He was hers for now, though.


As they finished up with lunch, the question from before persisted in the
back of her mind.

Why couldn’t he be hers for real?

There was only one plausible reason she could think of: He didn’t want her
back.

Things like that weren’t written in stone, though. At the beginning of all of
this, she’d been prepared to learn skills that would aid her in seducing a man
—possibly Hameed Mirza. But why should she settle for Hameed when maybe she could have Aditya? Could she use what he taught her . . . on him? Could she seduce her escort?