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Then, after a while, his hands started wandering, casual at first, then deliberately slipping lower, his fingers brushing across her thigh. The bathrobe had already ridden up a few inches without her noticing, and when his fingers grazed her bare skin, she gave him a look.

“Shaurya…”

His touch had already turned rogue, his fingers now trailing along the line of her legs. His grip grew firmer, his hands sliding just a bit higher. She gasped, not out of shock, but because she knew that look in his eyes.

In the very next moment, he tugged her effortlessly into his lap, her robe bunching even higher around her thighs.

“Shaurya, we’re going to be solate,” she said half-heartedly, even as he brushed a kiss along her neck.

“Then we’ll blame it on the traffic,” he murmured against her skin, his hands still roaming, still massaging, still worshipping.

Nandini giggled, turning to face him. “Traffic? In Serene Meadows?” she teased. “You do realise that the engagement is at Priya’s villa, just across the road. Not exactly a highway delay you can use as an excuse.”

Shaurya grinned, unbothered. “They won’t question us. We’re married after all, remember?”

She let out a breathy laugh, her fingers curling into his kurta. “You’re impossible.”

“And you,” he whispered, pulling her closer, “are irresistible.”

“My body’s actually sore,” she admitted with a small sigh. “All this running around, and today’s event on top of it… I think I’ve been walking around like a tightly wound spring.”

He nodded, still focused on her skin. “What you need is a relaxing spa day.”

She laughed wryly. “I have no time for that. Definitely not in the next two or three days.”

He grinned again, his tone dipping lower, huskier. “I can always help.”

She knew exactly what he meant, and her cheeks flushed with heat at the memory. One evening, a few months back, her shoulders had ached, her feet were sore, and her patience stretched thin. She’d been pouring everything she had into building her brand without a break, and Shaurya had noticed the toll it was taking on her, mentally and physically. He had sat her down on their bed, a warm towel and bottle of lavender-infused massage oil in hand, insisting she let him take care of her, promising her a relaxing full-body massage.

He’d started at her shoulders, his fingers firm and slow, kneading away the tension from her muscles. But it hadn’t stayed innocent for long. His palms had drifted lower, trailing heat down her spine, settling at her waist. And when she shifted under his touch, he’d leaned in and pressed a kiss to her collarbone, and all the way down. Her negligee had slipped further, their bodies aligning instinctively as desire unfolded between them.

The massage oil never quite made it to her feet.

His hands, once kneading her soreness, were now worshipping her curves.

The massage had turned into a slow, sensual love making instead, and they’d ended up in a heap of breathless laughter and tangled sheets, with zero muscle relief.

Her blush deepened at the memory.

“You know,” he murmured, “you should be flustered more often. It’s kind of hot.”

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth lifted despite herself. “I’m going to be late, and you’re flirting?”

Then she leaned in a little closer, her voice taking on a sultry tone. “And just so you know, the last time you ‘helped,’ I waseven more sore the next day. The things we did was a full-body workout in itself.”

He finally looked up, that signature cocky glint lighting his eyes. “But you loved it.”

She gave him a slow, knowing smile, then leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

“Absolutely,” she said, pulling away and taking back the lotion bottle from him.

“Okay, Mr. Smooth,” she added, arching a brow. “Now, if you really want to help, help me with the saree pleats.”

Shaurya grinned. “More than happy to help.”

Moments later, she stood in front of the mirror, the deep emerald green saree draped around her, its fabric shimmering under the golden light. Shaurya stepped up beside her and began adjusting the pleats at her waist. She watched him through the mirror, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration, like he was tending to something delicate and precious.

Because to him, she was all that… and more.