09-09-2025, 12:36 AM
The Weight of Desire
Neetu remained close, her head resting lightly on his shoulder again, just enough for him to feel the soft heat of her hair brushing against his neck. Her presence pressed gently against him, subtle yet undeniable, a quiet reminder of how intimately they had known each other before.
Ravi’s chest rose and fell unevenly, his body acutely aware of her proximity, each movement she made sending shivers of awareness through him.
The heat between them wasn’t just guilt or fear, it was magnetic, drawing out something buried beneath the surface, something unspoken, dangerous.
Her fingers traced slow, circular patterns along the back of his hand, an absent-minded gesture that was unmistakably intimate. The touch lingered, as if her skin could map out the tension in his body, and Ravi couldn’t help but shiver at the sensation.
She didn’t speak immediately, allowing the silence to stretch, letting him feel her quiet presence, seen in every way, emotionally and physically.
The weight of her touch, the warmth of her body, seeped into him, as if she was trying to erase the coldness that had taken root inside him.
He swallowed hard, throat tight, his heart racing as he spoke. “I… I don’t even know if I can face Priya Didi now,” he admitted, his voice a little rough. “I’ve ruined everything. I’ve been such a fool…”
Neetu shifted slightly, closing the distance between them. Her body pressed against his side more firmly now, a deliberate tenderness that felt like a promise, an unspoken pledge of comfort, of trust, of understanding. Her voice dropped lower, just above a whisper, and for a moment it felt like only he could hear her. “Ravi… it’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to feel guilty. But you’re not alone. Not now.”
He exhaled a shaky breath, leaning subtly into her, drawn by the warmth and intimacy of her presence.
The faint, comforting scent of her hair surrounded him, closer, softer, with every inch she moved. Her body was there, pressing lightly but firmly against him, and the heat from her skin seeped through the fabric of his shirt, almost overwhelming.
She was grounding him, holding him together when he felt like he might fall apart.
Neetu remained close, her head resting lightly on his shoulder again, just enough for him to feel the soft heat of her hair brushing against his neck. Her presence pressed gently against him, subtle yet undeniable, a quiet reminder of how intimately they had known each other before.
Ravi’s chest rose and fell unevenly, his body acutely aware of her proximity, each movement she made sending shivers of awareness through him.
The heat between them wasn’t just guilt or fear, it was magnetic, drawing out something buried beneath the surface, something unspoken, dangerous.
Her fingers traced slow, circular patterns along the back of his hand, an absent-minded gesture that was unmistakably intimate. The touch lingered, as if her skin could map out the tension in his body, and Ravi couldn’t help but shiver at the sensation.
She didn’t speak immediately, allowing the silence to stretch, letting him feel her quiet presence, seen in every way, emotionally and physically.
The weight of her touch, the warmth of her body, seeped into him, as if she was trying to erase the coldness that had taken root inside him.
He swallowed hard, throat tight, his heart racing as he spoke. “I… I don’t even know if I can face Priya Didi now,” he admitted, his voice a little rough. “I’ve ruined everything. I’ve been such a fool…”
Neetu shifted slightly, closing the distance between them. Her body pressed against his side more firmly now, a deliberate tenderness that felt like a promise, an unspoken pledge of comfort, of trust, of understanding. Her voice dropped lower, just above a whisper, and for a moment it felt like only he could hear her. “Ravi… it’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to feel guilty. But you’re not alone. Not now.”
He exhaled a shaky breath, leaning subtly into her, drawn by the warmth and intimacy of her presence.
The faint, comforting scent of her hair surrounded him, closer, softer, with every inch she moved. Her body was there, pressing lightly but firmly against him, and the heat from her skin seeped through the fabric of his shirt, almost overwhelming.
She was grounding him, holding him together when he felt like he might fall apart.
.
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