[prasannas2001]

By the time they made it back downstairs, it was well past noon.
 
The morning had disappeared into tangled sheets and whispered confessions, into explorations that left them both breathless and wanting more.
 
"We really need to eat," Anjali said, rummaging through the refrigerator.
 
Her body felt deliciously sore, her lips swollen from kissing, and she couldn't stop the smile that played at her lips.
 
"Agreed," Rohan said, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder.
 
"I'm starving."
 
The casual intimacy of it, standing in their kitchen, his body pressed against her back like it was the most natural thing in the world, made her heart ache with dangerous feelings.
 
They made simple sandwiches, working together in the kitchen with an easy rhythm that felt both familiar and entirely new.
 
Every brush of hands, every shared glance carried electric undertones.
 
"Movie?" Rohan suggested as they carried their plates to the living room.
 
"Try to actually finish one this time?"
 
Anjali laughed, remembering how quickly they'd abandoned yesterday's movie.
 
"We can try."
 
They settled onto the couch, starting some action film neither of them really cared about.
 
For the first fifteen minutes, they ate and actually watched.
 
But then Rohan's arm dbangd casually over the back of the couch, his fingers playing with her hair.
 
Innocent enough.
 
Brotherly, even.
 
Except nothing between them was innocent anymore.
 
Anjali shifted closer, tucking herself against his side, and felt his sharp intake of breath.
 
His hand moved from her hair to her shoulder, tracing lazy patterns on her skin.
 
"Watching the movie," she said, though her attention was completely on his touch.
 
"Absolutely watching," he agreed, but his hand slid lower, fingertips skimming the side of her breast through her tank top.
 
She tried to focus on the explosions on screen, but all she could feel was the heat of his body, the deliberate path his hand was taking.