The lights of Kolkata flickered in the distance, blurred by the monsoon mist that clung to the windows like secrets refusing to fade. Inside the quiet apartment on the tenth floor, the silence was thick—charged, expectant.
Payel stood by the window, wrapped in a satin robe the color of midnight. Her hair was still damp, coiled against her neck like ink stains. She sipped her tea slowly, watching the city breathe, unaware—or perhaps too aware—that she was no longer alone in the room.
“Late night for tea, don’t you think?” came Rajbir’s voice, deep and smooth like dark chocolate melting on the tongue.
She didn’t turn around. “Or maybe it’s an early morning for temptations.”
Rajbir chuckled softly, the sound brushing against her spine like fingertips in the dark. He moved closer, his presence unmistakable even before he touched her. But he didn’t—he never did, not without permission. That was the danger with Rajbir: he always made her *want* to be the one to close the distance.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he said, now standing behind her. His reflection flickered beside hers in the window—tall, composed, impossibly still. “Maybe it was the storm.”
“Or maybe it was me,” she murmured, turning slightly, her eyes meeting his.
He didn’t answer. Not with words.
Instead, his gaze did the talking—slow, deliberate, devouring. Payel could feel the tension between them like a taut violin string, stretched too tight for too long.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” she said, voice soft but firm.
“Like what?”
“Like you know things I haven’t said yet.”
Rajbir’s smile was all fire and restraint. “Maybe I do.”
Her breath caught—just barely. “And if I asked you to stop?”
“I would.” He paused. “But you haven’t.”
She turned fully now, facing him, tea forgotten on the window sill. “You always were dangerous with words.”
“And you,” he said, taking a step closer, “are dangerous without them.”
The air between them felt like velvet—soft, lush, smothering. Payel could feel every inch of him without touching a single part. The scent of his cologne was faint—spiced woods and something uniquely Rajbir. Her pulse was steady, but only because she was controlling it with every ounce of effort.
“Tell me something honest,” she whispered.
He didn’t flinch. “I’ve imagined kissing you in every room of this apartment.”
Her eyes darkened, not with shock, but with the kind of desire that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud.
“And why haven’t you?” she asked, tilting her head, teasing the moment.
“Because you hadn’t said yes… until now.”
She didn’t say the word. She didn’t need to. The silence between them screamed it.
Rajbir reached out slowly, fingers grazing the edge of her robe’s belt—not tugging, not pulling—just resting there, waiting. She looked down, then up again. Her nod was almost imperceptible, but it was enough.
He closed the last inch of space, one hand sliding to her waist, the other tracing a strand of wet hair behind her ear. His thumb lingered on her cheekbone, reverent, like she was something to be studied, not rushed. Their faces were so close now that every breath exchanged felt like an invitation.
When their lips met, it was like thunder without sound.
Slow. Certain. Consuming.
It was not a kiss that begged—it *claimed*. And still, it held the gentleness of a storm that knows how to rain without drowning. Payel’s fingers found the hem of his shirt, curling into it—not to pull him closer, but to anchor herself in a moment she knew she’d remember in maddening detail.
He pulled away first, just enough to speak, his voice a husky whisper.
“We could stop.”
“But we won’t,” she said, threading her fingers into his hair.
The clock ticked somewhere in the background, a reminder of time passing—but neither of them moved to look. In that room, in that moment, time had no meaning.
Payel stepped back, only slightly, her robe slipping off one shoulder. Rajbir’s eyes followed the motion like gravity. Still, no rush. Just watching. Just *wanting*.
“Tell me,” she whispered, “what do you see?”
Rajbir’s voice was velvet and fire. “The beginning of a very beautiful mistake.”
She smiled slowly, lips curved like sin. “Then let’s make it unforgettable.”
Outside, the storm raged. But inside, two people let go of every rule they’d built between them—until the only thing left was breath, and heat, and the promise of something too dangerous to name.