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Happy Reading, My Sweet Sinners✨

Scene-1

"You can not marry me forcibly! I will file a case against you—" A sharp gasp escaped her lips as he gripped her wrist and pulled her flush against his. Her words dying in her throat. Their faces inches closer. She hissed at him,"Let go of me, you fucking bastard!" Her hypnotic black orbs, now held a raging fury that nothing could calm it down. Her face contorted with anger.

He tightened his grip on her wrist, twisting it behind her back, he spun her around. Her back grazing against the heavy rise and fall of his chest. He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered,"Tumhe kaise chhod du, hmm? Tumhari wajah se toh meri barbaadi shuru hui hai, jaaneman."

He locked his eyes with her in the mirror, moving his lips to press a soft kiss on her earlobe. "Taiyaar ho jaaiye... vrna..." He trailed off letting the heavy weight behind his threat sink in.

As his grip on her wrist loosened slightly, she turned around swiftly. Taking the opportunity, her hand smoothly pulled out the sharp hair pin from her messy bun and stabbed it directly into his chest. A loud groan vibrated in his throat, as his hand came up to grip hers. Due to the impact, he staggered back a little.

Her eyes blazing with fury, she twisted the hair pin deeper into his chest. She leaned in, her breath fanning his lips, just inches away. "Tumhari lanka na laga di toh mera naam bhi Anamika Roy nahi. Pachtaoge tum. Mujhse shaadi karke." She gritted her teeth.

He just stared at her, the pain rising in his chest, blood dripping down from the spot where she had stabbed him, but he didn't care. He leaned down, a smug, utterly prideful smile making its way to his lips. "Shekhawat."

At his words, she pressed the hairpin more deeper in his chest, her hand covered in his blood,"Huh?"

"Anamika Randheer Shekhawat. Soon-to-be wifey." He whispered, his breath coming out ragged.

He looked down—his white kurta, now stained with his own blood. He was losing his consciousness from the blood loss yet her hand was still holding the hairpin tightly in his chest, slowly twisting it again.

He winced, as he felt the sharp metal twist inside his flesh, drawing out more blood. A pained sound vibrated in his throat—half-cough, half-sob. His eyes drooped, wandering downward to finally settle on her chest. Her breasts were slightly heaving against the tight bridal blouse she wore.

He stared at her breasts shamelessly, his mind conjuring scenarios that would be illegal in 195 countries, given the situation he was in. Before he could process anything, he muttered without an ounce of shame,"Kitne pyaare hain tumhare scooby-dubi.."

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Scene-2

"Get it done. Before I lose my fucking mind." He muttered coldly on the phone. Without waiting for the other person to answer, he hung up the call. He threw his phone on the table, watching it slide across the smooth wood.

He moved to the couch in his study, sinking deep into the plush cushions, spreading his legs and sitting with an effortless, royal authority. His one hand came to mess up his hair, a few stray strands falling onto his forehead, while the other fumbled with his shirt buttons. After a few muttered curses, he ripped the fabric off and tossed it aside.

He leaned back against the cushions, his chest rising and falling heavily as his breath deepened. He tilted his neck, exposing his throat and bare chest to the chilling draft of the AC.

He was just beginning to ease his muscles, when the door to his study creaked slightly. He didn't move. He knew the sound of those footsteps, the familiar chime of anklets, the clinking of the bangles—he knew it by heart, by soul, by everything.

She moved around him, finally standing in front of him,"Oye.. bhaura gaye ho, huh?! ye kya haal bana rakha hai puri jagah ka?"

She snapped at him. When he didn't respond, she leaned down, snapping her fingers in front of his face, clinking her bangles. "Ohh maharaj! Kidhar kho gaye? aapse hi baat—!"

Before she could say anything further, his hand shot out, gripping her bangle-clad wrist and swiftly pulling her onto his lap.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips, as she tried to scramble up from his lap,"Pagal wagal ho gaye ho—aahhh.. Randheer!"

He pulled her back down, settling her comfortably in his lap. His arms coming to wound around her waist, resting there loosely. She knew there's no way out of here, even if she bring out her entire courtroom trials. Her palms slid flat against his chest, feeling the rapid, heavy thrum of his heart beneath her skin.

She leaned down, her face hovering above his. Her hand moving up to tuck the stray lock of hair away from his forehead. A soft smile, playing on her lips as she whispered,"Aankhein kholiye..."

He didn't respond, but his arms tightened reflexively around her waist, pulling her even firmer against him. Her breath hitched, as she braced herself against his, resting her palms fully on his chest to steady herself.

Finally, slowly, he opened his eyes. The hazel-blue of his gaze met her hypnotic black orbs and he instantly found himself drowning in her eyes. His eyes never leaving his face, lingering on every single feature for a long, deliberate amount of time, as if he's trying to memorise and absorb her surreal face—Her hypnotic eyes, those beautifully curled eyelashes fluttering, her small button nose, the moles sitting perfectly on the bridge of her nose and at the corner of her mouth. He was drinking her in.

The sheer intensity in his eyes made her blush furiously. Blood rushed to her cheeks, heating her neck, spreading down on her collar bone and all the way to the tips of her ears. She felt the air leave her lungs under his scorching gaze. She whispered, her warm breath fanning his lips,"Aise kya dekh rahe hain?"

His eyes wandered over her face, never leaving it. Finally, he managed out a response. "Apni barbaadi ki wajah..." His voice coming out raspy, thick with emotions, his eyes darkened as his grip tightened possessively on her waist.

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