Too old.
Too tall.
Too rich.
Too out of my league.
That's Aryan Arora, the billionaire CEO for me. But apparently, he is the perfect marriage material guy according to the world's pushiest parents of mine.
Getting married was neve...
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"I thought you weren't going to apply Mehandi?" Aryan asked, untying his shoelaces.
The Mehandi ceremony was in the evening today and even though I had told him that I wouldn't touch henna cones with a ten feet pole, because I can't bear the musky scent of the herb, I had gotten some small yet intricate henna designs on both my hands, just so that I could ask him to find his name on my hands.
Aryan had an important client meeting to attend in Udaipur so he had to skip the ceremony entirely. And now that he was home, he appeared to be weary. His disheveled hair, his slouched shoulders, and his dim eyes clearly indicated how exhausting his day had been.
I skidded closer to him on the bed, keeping my hand on his, and asked softly, "How was the meeting?"
"Didn't go really well," He replied, sighing while loosening his tie. "Just a bad day."
Placing my chin on his shoulder, I whispered near his ear, circling my arm around his torso from behind, "Did you have dinner?"
He kept a warm hand on top of mine, which was resting on his stomach. His thumb caressed the back of my knuckles in a feather-like touch as he mumbled lowly, "Nhi yr. Time hi nhi mila."
(No. Didn't get any time for dinner.)
"What do you want to eat then? I will prepare it. Tell me."
"It's one at night, Ria. You don't have to make dinner for me this late," He said, kissing the top of my head, "And I am not that hungry anyways."
Just as he said it, a grumbling noise of disapproval sounded from his hungry stomach.
"How does some hot Buttery Butter Paneer with Roti sound?" I asked, patting his tummy.
"Sounds good but very tiring and time-consuming to make."
"Are you doubting my Masterchef skills, husband?" I challenged playfully. "Fifteen minutes is all that is needed. And your dinner will be in front of you," I asserted, getting up from the bed, and twisting my hair up in a bun.
As I stood along the edge of the bed, his hand clasped onto my wrist, tugging me down. Losing my balance, I landed right on his lap sideways, with a sound of surprise escaping my mouth.
Aryan placed his palm lightly on my cheek, cupping my jaw in a delicate touch. His dark piercing gaze traced every inch of my face, before his lips fell on mine in slow deliberate movement, with a sigh of relief as if he waited the entire day to have me in his arms like this.
Feeling a slight hint of his smile on the corner of my lips, I smiled too. The movement of his lips wasn't hurried or overly eager. It was maddeningly slow yet peacefully passionate like he was trying to savor every second of the moment. His mouth didn't probe mine to open, to deepen the kiss as always. It was just simple, loving intimacy without even a single sliver of lust.
