Made Men

28. Wholesome

The heavy door yanked open, and the mirth in her brown eyes stretched over.

With his large hands on either side of the door frame, he bent down quite far until his face reached her short frame. His sinful lips met hers in a lazy kiss before he took his hands away and stepped aside.

She knew the giddiness was visible in her entire presence as her feet roamed into the familiar penthouse. Low insignificant chatter and then the tall man directed her towards the kitchen.

Vereena stood in the humongous kitchen, a chef's apron over her nude fitted loungewear dress. The maxi length dress had a straight neckline and small straps. Her hair thrown into a claw clip in a messy updo allow her to not fuss about her long locks.

Her slip-on shoes had been left by the front door, her bare feet on the cold ground. He stood in a branded oversized hoodie with no strings and fitted sweats. It was a matching set in a cream shade, his curls were defined and longer than usual and the studs in his ears had been changed to a bigger diamond.

She was happy she had stayed with a simple makeup look as the heat started to rise.

"Of course, you have to remember all the spices otherwise it won't be authentic and delicious." She trailed off, serving up the homemade Murgh Kari and fluffy rice she spent so long making. "So what were the spices I used again?"

Vito rolled his eyes, faded harmonies of classical music drifting around his house. "Curry powder, garam masala, dhania powder, haldi, laal mirch." He was sitting at the head of the table when she balanced two plates and walked over to him.

She refused the help, telling him that he had opened up his home to her for an Indian dinner and she wanted everything to be exact.

As she leaned over him setting his plate down, her head turned inwards to his. "And?"

"And," he thought about it. "And jeera."

She smiled pecking his lips in a sweet stolen kiss before she sat down on the right of him. However, seeing as she was sitting next to him and not across him, his hand reached under the table.

The chair scraped against the floor as he pulled her closer to him. Her laugh was soft and in the air when she felt his lips graze her cheek, then his husky murmur turned her into mush. "Thank you, mousey."

Her shoulders lifted and fell in a careless shrug. "You know your pronunciation is scarily accurate, are you sure you've never been with an Indian?"

He chuckled darkly, grabbing the knife and fork as they started to eat.

Of course, she would've normally preferred her hand but since she had done a ten-step body care routine, she wanted every part of her to smell the lavender oil. That included her hands.

"I never said I haven't been with an Indian woman before."

Taking the first mouthful, she swallowed slowly and kept her eyes trained on his amused face. He was busy eating when she asked, "Really?"

"Mhm." He calmly replied.

There was so much she didn't know about him, surprise lifted her brows and the conversation drifted into mindless chat again.

Soon enough, the empty plates were washed and dried, her feet were left swinging side to side.

A bottle of red perched on the coffee table, the melodies were now filling up the room. Their glasses were half full, sipping on the drink very slowly.

They had made it into the living room, the intimidating man on his back as she splayed across his chest on her front. Her hands stretched on his broad chest, locked together and her chin rested on top of the front of her hands.