Incest Little sis Anjali and her friends

[prasannas2001]

 
“I don't want to hurt anyone.”
 
“I know.”
 
“I don't want to become someone I don't recognize.”
 
“I know.”
 
“Then why do I feel like I already crossed some invisible line?”
 
Rohan looked at her.
 
“Because sometimes the first step isn't something you do.”
 
His voice was barely above a whisper.
 
“Sometimes it's something you realize.”
 
The words stayed between them.
 
Mamta looked at him.
 
Really looked at him.
 
And for the first time, she stopped trying to explain the feeling away.
 
 
 
Rohan shifted on the sofa, closing the small distance between them. "I see it in your eyes, Aunty. Mamta. There's a fire there. It's not out. It's just... waiting for someone to bring it some fuel."
 
He was sitting close now, so close she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, could smell the clean, masculine scent of his cologne.
 
Her heart was hammering against her ribs, a frantic, trapped bird.
 
"Rohan, we shouldn't," she whispered, but her protest was weak, her voice trembling.
 
"Why?" he asked, his voice barely a murmur.
 
He reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering for a moment on the soft skin of her cheek.
 
The touch was electric. "Because it's nice? Because it feels good to be seen? There's no harm in that, is there?"
 
His logic was a seductive poison, and she was drinking it in.
 
She leaned into his touch, just a fraction, an almost imperceptible movement, but it was all the confirmation he needed.
 
He slowly sat closer, his thigh now pressing against hers.
 
He took her hand, his fingers lacing through hers. "You have the most expressive hands," he said, his voice a husky whisper.