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— AVANTIKA —

The water was heavenly, as were the tiny jets in the jacuzzi set installed in the antique round tub.

Avantika didn’t remember the last time she had spent longer than ten minutes under/ inside hot water.

Even when her mother or Kresha had come visiting or she brought Brahmi to Delhi to her parents, the days were stuffed with things to do. No time to soak in a tub.

In this moment, as her head lay back on the rim of the tub with a towel cushioning it, bubbles floating around her and a glass of wine half-finished in her hand, she realised she had not had a night like this since becoming a mother.

Brahmi had never been a clingy child but she had been a multi-tasking mother, forgetting what spas and hot tubs and pampering did to a woman.

Her mind had wired into a whole different league, like while playing cricket — all you saw was the ball.

After a certain number of overs, it started to look as big as football to you, that’s how focused you became on it.

For her, Brahmi and her upbringing became as big as a football and she would see nothing beyond that.

Avantika brought the glass of wine to her lips and took a long sip.

It was sparkly wine, perfect and bubbly for a night like this.

A whisper of a shutter startled her. She sat up.

Silence. Maybe it was her imagination. She pushed back, the water making the best rippling sound around her as she did so. And again a thud.

Her chest thumped. Anxious, she set her glass back, got out of the tub soaking wet and pulled her bathrobe around her, tightening the knot.

She grabbed her mobile, swiping it up to keep Samarth’s number under her thumb and tiptoed out of the bathroom, her hand trying to find something to grab as self-defence.

“Oh, shit,” somebody groaned from the balcony. “Fu…” Samarth cursed. Avantika ran across the room and unlocked the balcony shutters, getting knocked in the face with cool winds and a doubled-over Samarth.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered. His head popped up, half pain half amusement.

“What does it look like? Sneaking into your balcony.”

“Where did you get hurt?” She pushed to the parapet and glanced down. No ladder. “How did you climb up?”

“That banyan tree…” he rubbed his back, straightening to his full height. “Shit… this used to be easier in school.”

“You were also a teenager in school,” Avantika chided, grabbing his arm and helping him inside. “Your security is downstairs. Are you mad?”

“They are not on this side for the next three minutes,” he grinned.

“Oh my gawwwd! You did research?”

“Had to.”

“Might as well have come through the main door.”

“The security there is 24X7.”

Avantika huffed, turning him to the sitting area before he grabbed her arm and pulled her to himself. His hand came to her neck, trailing down the soaking skin — “You’re wet.”

“I was in the tub and ran.”

Samarth’s eyes trailed down her face, her open neck, to the floor where she was dripping water despite the soaking material of her robe. She squealed as he bent down and picked her up in his arms.

“Samarth!”

He laughed, carrying her into the bathroom and setting her on the mat outside the tub. His gaze took in her private little party and his hands went to the knot of her robe.

“Hoye,” she grabbed his hands before they could pull it open. “Apparently your Rajmata has set some rules.”

“Nobody knows I am here. Her concern is to not set tongues wagging,” he slapped her hand away.

She slapped it back on his — “What about your Sati Savitri rules?”

He tugged the knot open in one swoop and held the lapels of her robe in both hands — “I never said anything about not looking.”

“What if you look and jog your memory?”

“Let me look and then we’ll see,” he parted the lapels of her robe and his eyes trailed down her eyes, her face, her neck to her breasts. They halted there, his irises suddenly darkening. His throat worked a swallow.

“I’m not athletic anymore.”

“Good,” his eyes trailed lower, to her torso, lower, to the stretch marks marring her flat belly. “I don’t own a six-pack anymore either.”

Avantika laughed even amid this hot, intense, tense moment. His eyes trailed down, his body stepping back — “Take it off.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to jog my memory.”

She felt her body explode into tiny flutters.

He had not even touched her and she could feel thumping in pulse points hidden inside her.

It had always been like that with him. He was so sweet and soft-natured.

And came with his Sati Savitri rules. But when he looked at her like this, barked soft bursts of commands out to her, she couldn't hold her nonchalant shield up.

“Want me to spell it out, Raje?” His deep voice brought her out of the self-induced haze of arousal. Technically, Samarth-induced haze of arousal.

Her eyes met his, and she tipped her chin higher as his face bent — “Let’s see if you know your spellings as well as your daughter does.”

His mouth pulled up in that smirk — along with his eyebrow.

“O for obey.”

Her eyes widened.

“F for fingers.”

She swallowed.

“F for faster.”

Her eyes looked away from his, unable to take in the smirk that was now in his eyes.

“Off, Ava.”

She reached for the lapels of her bathrobe and pulled them off her shoulders. It rustled down in a pool around her feet just as his sharp intake of breath made her clench her legs. She looked at him and his head was bent, looking at her.

“Get in the tub.”

“I think I am done…”

“No, you are not.”

He stepped close to her and took her hand, only her fingers, in a delicate hold, as if he was guiding her to a ball dance. She flowed with him and stepped inside the tub, the water tepid but feeling warm after the cool of the air outside.

Samarth helped her down, then took steps back.

“Don't go…”

But he was reaching for the buttons on his shirt, unbuttoning them with one hand, eyes on her. She floated back, grabbing her wine and taking a sip, pulling her nonchalant shield back up.

“Need more?” He asked, pushing his shirt lapels off to reveal a broad muscled chest and torso that was no longer cut in six packs.

He wasn’t in his 20s anymore and he didn’t play polo or practise regularly due to his Rawal duties.

And yet, the body of a 34-year-old Samarth Sinh Solanki had the power to make her breathless.

She now knew why she still held that same power over him, even after giving birth.

“What? You?” She smirked. “I think I’ll take it.”

He chuckled — “I meant the wine. The show is going to go on longer.”

“Oh…” her mouth dropped open as he reached for his belt and the metal of his buckle clinked. She took a sip and swallowed, the wine drying in her mouth at the sight of his briefs. She coughed, making him laugh.

“I think you need more.”

He pushed his pants and briefs down, revealing all that she wanted and all that she was suddenly a little concerned about. She had stretched after Brahmi’s birth. Would it feel the same? Be the same? For him as well as for her?

In her self-rant, she didn’t realise he had moved and now stood right in front of her, in her direct line of sight. His body bent over her and she heard the telltale filling of her glass. He straightened, his finger nudging her chin up — “Not all the way.”

“You keep saying that.”

“I mean it… fuck!” His hand moved to the back of her neck as she reached for him. “Raje!”

Avantika grinned, in control again, using her hand to stroke him.

“Do you still like this?” She fondled him with one hand, using the other to stroke up. His teeth gritted, eyes on her — “The last time somebody did this was you, so do the math.”

“I was awesome at math,” she reached up and kissed him, opening her mouth for a long swipe.

“A-va!” He groaned, pulling her back by her hair. “I want to make you feel good.”

“I am feeling good.”

His hand wrapped around hers and he gently unclasped her fingers from around him. Before she could pout, he stepped inside the tub and pulled her between his legs, her back to his chest. She relaxed in his hold.

“How good?” His fingers trailed down the slope of her neck, nails scraping the space under her ear that he knew reached parts deep inside of her. She bucked. He chuckled, taking water from the tub and dripping it down the same line his fingers had trailed.

“How long will you draw this out?”

“I have eight years’ worth of debts to recover,” his mouth settled in that space and opened for a warm, wet kiss.

She shuddered. His slow was his kryptonite.

He knew how his nails scraping, his breath blowing, his mouth tasting and then retreating made her writhe.

Writhe in the literal sense of the word.

Avantika turned in place and straddled him — “Quick!”

He circled one arm around her to keep her from falling off his legs and used the other to pick up her glass. He tipped it up his lips, unaffected.

“Samarth…” she whined.

“You are not a single Mama right now with our baby waiting outside,” he set her glass on the rim of the tub and pulled her closer, their hips slamming together.

She gasped, her mouth falling open as the full force of those words hit her.

Samarth’s fingers came to push the tendrils of hair behind her ear, caressing the side of her face — “You are my Ava right now.”

Her throat clogged. “Don't make me cry. I am not a crier.”

“I intend to make you cry,” his fingers trailed down her face, down her neck, to her breast. He squeezed her nipple, gently. Her mouth opened again, eyes on his, feeling so much more than just physical intimacy with him again.

“I intend to make you cry loud and hard,” Samarth trailed his fingers down her torso and to her lower belly, caressing the welted skin there before pushing his fingers down and inside her. Fully. She screamed, pushing her mouth into his shoulder and biting down.

“Tender?”

“It’s been a while.”

“You don’t penetrate?”