Page 69 of ARIDHI: His Never-Ending Desire

The morning felt the best moment of my life after five rounds of the ultimate session of our love making.

I woke up to the sound of his heartbeat.

It was a slow, steady rhythm, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world had finally matched his pace.

My cheek rested on his chest, skin against skin, the faint rise and fall beneath me more comforting than any blanket could ever be.

His arm was wrapped lazily around my waist, the other stretched on the bed.

We were tangled in bedsheets and quiet, like a half-written poem—warm and beautifully unfinished.

For a long moment, I didn’t move.

I just stayed there, soaking it all in.

I listened to his breathing, felt the warmth of his body, and let his scent cling to the pillow.

His breath brushed softly through the strands of my hair, a tender caress.

I lifted my head slightly, just enough to see his face in the soft, gold wash of morning light that filtered through the curtains.

And God, he was beautiful.

His hair was tousled, a charming mess, and his lashes seemed far too long for someone so utterly shameless.

A small smile was carved on his lips, even in sleep, as if he was deep in thought, probably dreaming about us.

And that slight stubble across his jaw—faint and perfect, the kind of intimate detail you only truly notice when you are this close.

This man had truly undone me.

Ruvit Rathore—this impossibly stubborn, devastatingly patient man—had somehow broken into the deepest parts of me last night, leaving his mark in places I hadn’t even known existed.

Meanwhile me? I was a mess. He, however, called that mess a masterpiece.

And as he promised, my legs were trembling, my whole body was aching and my only concern was how to walk.

But it was worth it—more than worth it—to feel so thoroughly claimed by Ruvit.

My mind was only covered with the memories from our last night, nothing else.

I didn’t want to think about that.

I reached up, brushing a knuckle along his jaw, soft and light, a tentative touch.

My fingers lingered at his lips, barely grazing the curve.

“Wae are you so perfect?” I whispered, half to myself, a confession meant only for the quiet morning.

Just then, his lips twitched.

Then, his eyes opened, sharp and suddenly, too awake.

“Were you watching me sleep, sweetheart?” He asked, that low, husky morning voice wrapping around me like a delicious sin.

I gasped, pulling back immediately, and caught completely off guard. “I wasn’t—”

But before I could protest further, he flipped us in one clean, fluid motion.

Now I was on my back, the sheets slipping dangerously down my chest.

And he was hovering above me, his eyes glittering with a mix of amusement and something far darker, more possessive.

“You’re blushing.” He observed, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You’re cocky.” I retorted, trying to push him off. He didn’t budge.

“Only because you were ogling me.” He teased, nuzzling my neck.

“I did not.” He laughed into my skin, the sound low and sinful and unfairly sexy, sending shivers through me.

“You drooled a little.” He whispered near my ear, still chuckling.

“I did not.” I insisted, a genuine laugh bubbling up from my chest this time.

“Should I be flattered?” He murmured, pulling back slightly, his eyes still sparkling with mischief. “Or should I be worried my wife has turned into a creep?”

“Not your wife yet.” I smirked, though my heart was doing a happy little dance.

His gaze dropped to my lips, lingering there.

“Careful.” He murmured, his voice laced with a warning that felt more like an invitation.

“You’re currently wearing nothing and any part of yours—body and soul—didn’t go untouched by me.” He added. “Or shall I give you a quick reminder?”

“Stop.” I replied, trying to sound aloof, even as I pulled the sheets up higher. “It’s morning. Be civil.”

“Civil?” He echoed, feigning offense, though his grin widened. “After what we did last night?”

I just laughed again, the warmth spreading through me, as he finally pushed himself off the bed, stretching with an effortless grace that made my breath hitch.

And then, he did something utterly unexpected.

He picked me in his arms, bedsheet falling down. I gasped as his arms met my bare under thighs.

He walked over to the bathroom door, cracked it open, and the scent hit me first, roses.

Warm steam curled through the air, carrying the delicate fragrance—a bath, drawn just for me.

The water was warm, its surface scattered with delicate pink rose petals, a small, luxurious island of serenity.

A soft, fluffy towel was folded over the edge of the tub, and on the counter, I saw it, my favorite cream, the one I’d only used twice.

He told me I was turning into a creep.

But he was the actual creep because this man was keeping an eye on my skincare products now.

I turned to him, my breath caught in my throat. “You did all this?” A slow, incredibly affectionate smile spread on his lips.

“I figured if I’m going to wreck you at night.” He said, his gaze was tender. “I should worship you in the morning.”

I didn’t have a reply.

Just soft eyes and a heart that thudded too loud in my chest, overwhelmed by the quiet tenderness of his gesture.

And when he placed me into the water—slowly, carefully, allowing the warmth to embrace me—I felt cherished once again.

He knelt beside the tub, and began to pour warm water over my shoulders.

I smiled, a bare, unguarded expression.

Because sometimes, love isn’t in the grand declarations or the eloquent words. It’s in rose petals. In the morning bath.

In silence shared between two people who had already said everything the night before.

But Ruvit went on proving it again and again by both ways.

The water was a soothing balm against my skin, sliding over every lingering ache like it had been waiting all night to carry me home.

Ruvit poured another scoop over my shoulders, his hands following the stream, slow and gentle.

The rose petals floated between us, brushing against my thighs, my collarbone, my breath.

He knelt there, seemingly content, as if this was exactly where he belonged.

As if this quiet act wasn’t a metaphor, but worship itself.

He was kneeling, attending to me like I was his only prayer.

And me? I was letting myself be loved—like this.

“When did you do this?” I murmured, eyes still closed, my head resting against the edge of the tub.

“When you were sleeping.” He whispered back, his voice a low rumble. “And I gave you a bath after our first time too, remember?”

I smiled. “Yeah. How considerate of you.”

“Giving you a warm bath is necessary if I want to break you all over again.” He smirked.

I opened one eye, peering at him. “You’re literally pouring water on me like a temple idol. You don’t get to talk about dirty things.”

He laughed softly, the sound sending ripples through my chest, more powerful than the bath ever could.

Then silence descended again, but it wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t empty. It felt whole.

His fingers moved slowly now—tracing the line of my shoulder, the curve of my collarbone.

I watched him, the way his hair fell over his forehead, slightly damp from the steam.

The way his lips parted, as if he wanted to say something, but held back.

“What is it?” I asked, my voice barely above the soft sound of the petals touching the water.

He looked up at me, something unreadable in his eyes, yet profoundly tender.

“You look happy and that makes me happy too.” He said softly. “Your bones forgot what it meant to carry fear and I want just that.”

I swallowed, a lump forming in my throat.

He was right. For a moment, I had forgotten. For a moment, it was just this—just us.

Naked, not in skin, but in safety and profound connection.

He leaned in closer, elbows resting on the porcelain edge, his face inches from mine.

“I want to give you mornings like this forever.” He whispered, his gaze unwavering.

I reached for his hand resting on the edge, lacing our fingers together.

“I want to remember this.” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Not just the bath. Not the rose petals. This. The way you’re looking at me.”

He dipped his forehead, resting its centre on the back of my hand, a promise, a sign of respect in the gentle press.

“You’re all I see, Aridhi.”

I didn’t say anything. My cheeks did the talking.

Then I pulled him closer, pressing a kiss on his cheek.

His ears turned a shade of pink as if he wasn’t being shameless just a few minutes ago.

After a few more minutes, the water started to cool—barely, but enough that goosebumps began to bloom across my skin.

He noticed before I did.

“Enough of the bath before I start getting jealous of the water now.” He murmured, his voice gentle and teasing.

Before he could do anything, I dipped my fingers into the surface and flicked a few drops at him—a direct hit to his pretty face.

He blinked. I smirked.

“Did you just splash me?” He asked, deadpan.

“No,” I said innocently, already backing up. “That was the spirit of water. I’m merely the vessel.”

Without warning, he scooped a handful and flung it straight at me.

It hit my chest. And I shouted. “Hey!”

He scrambled to grab a towel off the rack for defense. But I didn’t let him.

Because I splashed again—wider this time, soaking the front of his bare chest.

“Aridhi.” He warned. “This is a spa-worthy bath. Have some respect.”

I stood up from the tub, water streaming down my legs, and pointed a dripping finger at him.

“That’s for sneaking chocolate onto my body like a dessert tray.”

He shifted closer, tossing the water over my head with a grin. “You loved it.”

“I tolerated it.”

He reached behind me and tugged me against him, arms looping around my damp waist.

I squeaked but he didn’t care. “Water fights are a crime.” He said softly, our bare chests brushing.

“And so is your flirting.” I replied, breathless as my laughter died down.

He kissed my cheek. “Then arrest me.”

“Gladly.” I muttered, wrapping my arms tighter around his neck.

His arms slid beneath me. One beneath my knees, the other steady behind my back.

And then I was airborne again—wet, limp, and wrapped in rose-scented air.

He held me like I was something incredibly precious. Not fragile, simply irreplaceable.

He set me down gently on the stool outside the tub and reached for the fluffy, cream-colored towel he’d laid out earlier.

Ruvit crouched in front of me, towel in hand, drying my legs first—so gently, as if I didn’t annoy him just now.

Each movement was slow, deliberate. Not just practical, but reverent.

“You know I can do that myself.” I whispered, my breath catching when he trailed the towel up my inner thigh.

His lips curled into a lazy smile. “I’m aware. But I just want to do that for you.”

He continued—ankles, knees, thighs—before moving higher.

He stood, wrapping the robe around my body with a grace that made it feel like silk.

I stood too, arms through sleeves, a little flushed and a little ruined. He tied the knot at my waist, not looking at me until the very end.

His hands never lingered inappropriately, never took advantage.

But somehow, the very fact that they didn’t was what made it so much more potent.

He kissed my forehead, then the tip of my nose, then vanished in the crook of my neck.

Then—without warning—he pressed his lips to my collarbone, right where the chocolate had melted hours ago.

“You should get dressed.” He murmured, his voice a low purr.

I raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in my gaze. “Planning to help with that too?”

He grinned, the dangerous glint back in his eyes. “If you insist.”

I playfully slapped his arm as he brushed back his damp hair, his eyes still fixed on me as if he was trying to memorize my silhouette.

Not out of simple desire, but because he looked curious enough to learn each and every part of me.

Like he’d carved this morning from marble and wanted to keep it forever.

I stepped toward him slowly, the warmth of the bath still clinging to my skin.

“Thank you.” I said, my voice softer now, imbued with genuine gratitude.

“For what?” He asked, pulling me into his arms again, resting his chin on top of my head.

“For everything.”

He paused for a beat, holding me tighter. “You don’t thank people for loving you, Aridhi.”

A soft beat. “You just love them back.”

“I do.” I closed my eyes, letting his words sink into every part of me.

Just as we pulled away and he turned around , I seized the opportunity once again—another handful of water.

Straight to his back.

He froze, his shoulders stiff. “Oh, you started it, baby.” He said, turning slowly.

I shrieked and ran, the robe clutched tight around me, skidding across the tiles.

He chased me around the bathroom like we were five and not two adults engaged to be married.

None of it mattered anyways.

What mattered was that we were laughing, completely drenched and completely in love.

We stumbled out of the bathroom still dripping—him shirtless, me wrapped in a robe that was threatening rebellion at any moment.

“Truce.” I said, catching my breath. “No more water attacks.”

He looked at me suspiciously. “You’re the one who declared war.”

I tilted my head, pouting. “You fought back.”

“So what?” He crossed his arms. “Did you expect me to stand there like a statue while you fight me?”

“You should.” I grinned, then changed the topic. “You’re dripping on the carpet, Ruvit.”

He looked down, then up again with a smirk. “So are you.”

I chucked a hand towel at his face. He caught it easily, tossing it onto the bed, and then suddenly—

He was behind me. Hands on my waist. Mouth near my ear.

His voice dropped again, lower, softer. “You know what I love?”

“What?” I asked, heart doing stupid gymnastics.

He leaned in. “That robe looks nervous.”

I laughed. “You’re nervous.”

“Am I?” He whispered, spinning me toward the mirror. “Then does this look nervous?”

He stood behind me, watching our reflection like it was a painting.

I didn’t say anything for a beat. He looked at me through the glass when I shook my head.

This wasn’t nervousness. This was comfort.

“This looks like us.” He whispered against my ear, letting the blush spread across my neck.

I quickly turned away. “Get dressed before I marry someone else.”

“Impossible.” He said. “You’re already mine. Besides, if you really wanna marry someone else, do it unless you want him dead.”

God, this man.

He walked over in front of me, tugging my robe loose—gently, respectfully.

I nearly forgot how to stand when the robe dropped, his eyes worshipping my bare body.

He handed me one of his freshly brought shirts, even though I had my own closet full of dresses I never even touched.

“Seriously?” I raised a brow, holding up the crisp cotton.

“It’s the perfect moment to steal my clothes.” He quipped.

I rolled my eyes but took it anyway, slipping into the soft cotton. I buttoned it slowly, letting the oversized sleeves fall past my wrists.

It smelled undeniably like him—spice and aftershave, with a faint hint of last night’s intimacy.

He stood across from me, towel low on his hips, drying his hair. Water dripped down his chest in lazy, alluring trails.

“You’re staring again.” He said without looking at me.

“You’re shirtless in my bedroom.” I countered simply.

“You’re wearing my shirt with no pants. We’re even.” He shot back, his tone dripping with amusement.

I walked past him, grabbing my shorts and sliding them on under the oversized shirt. “You’re such a menace in the morning.”

“And yet, you let me bathe you like a Roman empress.” He slid the shirt on his broad shoulders, buttoning it fully.

“That was for me.” I replied, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He leaned closer then, his grin dangerous, water still beading on his skin.

“Oh, darling. I didn’t do it to flatter me. I did it because I was worried your legs wouldn’t work after last night.”

“Ruvit Rathore!” My mouth dropped open in a scandalized surprise.

He laughed—a full-bodied, shameless laugh that echoed around the bedroom.

I turned away, trying to hide the blush that was undoubtedly creeping up my neck, catching my reflection in the mirror. “Shameless.”

He came up behind me, his warm chest pressing against my back.

Slipping his arms around my waist, he leaned down, lips brushing the sensitive skin of my neck.

“My cutie pookie.” He whispered, his breath warm against my ear. “I am shameless just for you, you know that?”

My breath caught, and I closed my eyes, a wave of warmth washing over me as he pressed a soft kiss to the nape of my neck.

“I already know that.” I whispered back. It was so quiet, I don’t even think he heard it.

But then he pulled away, wearing his pants while humming a melody.

?

“Move.” I muttered, elbowing Ruvit’s side as I tried to apply my moisturizer.

“I was here first.” He said, dragging a comb through his hair like he was about to shoot a shampoo commercial.

“You’ve been fixing the same strand for five minutes.”

“And yet,” He said, tilting his head like some overconfident influencer. “I still look devastating.”

“Devastatingly handsome.” I shot back.

He grinned without missing a beat. “You flirt just fine.”

I rolled my eyes and reached for my face cream, popping the lid open just as he nudged my shoulder with his.

“Ruvit!” I choked, staggering back, when my face cream fell down.

He froze, speaking in a sarcastic way. “Oh shit—I slipped. Sorry, sweetheart.”

“You liar.” I slapped his arm with the nearest towel. He laughed and ducked behind the door, holding it like a shield.

“Violence in marriage is punishable under law.” He pointed out.

“We’re not married yet.”

“Then it’s an assault. Still illegal.”

I glared, turning back to do my skincare. I grabbed the moisturizer again, only for him to snatch it out of my hand from behind.

“I will seriously beat you, legal or not.” I warned.

“I will happily let you, M’lady.” He said. “To aaj do do hath ho hi jaye?” He challenged, holding it above his head like a trophy.

(Let's have a fight today?)

“Seriously?” I narrowed my eyes.

“Your skincare is mine if you aren’t ready.” He shrugged, standing beside the bed.

I climbed onto the bed for leverage. He backed up, still laughing, still holding it out of reach.

His grin was infuriating.

“Don’t fall.” He said. “I can’t carry both your pride and your broken ankle.”

“Oh, you’re dead.” I lunged but slipped.

The moisturizer flew away when Ruvit held me by my waist.

He stood there, hair still damp, the top buttons open, looking like a Greek god and an idiot at the same time.

“Abhi tak aapki girne parne ki aadat gayi nahi.” He teased, putting me gently on the floor.

(You haven’t gotten over your habit of falling yet.)

Picking up the moisturizer, I turned to head back to the mirror. He followed, reaching for the comb this time.

“Give me that.” I said, already annoyed again.

“Nope. I am not done yet.”

“That’s my comb.” My nose flared.

“You share my heart. You can share a comb.” He grinned at me.

“I will light your shirt on fire.” He stopped brushing and narrowed his eyes. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?” I raised my eyebrows in confusion.

He stepped closer, smirking. “I knew that you want me shirtless all the time.”

“Oh, please. It’s nothing like that, you narcissistic man.” His hands found my waist. “Liar.”

I tried not to smile when he leaned in. “You’re smiling.”

“I’m plotting against you.”

“Still smiling.” Our foreheads touched.

I smacked his chest lightly, turned away again—and this time, he made me sit on the chair and combed my hair, braiding them perfectly.

A curious question escaped my lips. “When did you learn to braid?”

He merely shrugged, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Rishika used to force me. Whenever she saw a pretty hairstyle on social media, she’d tell me to do it on her.” He explained.

“Mhm,” I hummed, a thrill rippling through me at his answer. This was good news for me.

“That’s perfect then. I can try new hairstyles every day with you.” I stated playfully.

“Whatever my Ardhangini wishes.” He murmured, expertly securing the rubber band at the end of the braid.

A dramatic groan escaped me, and I dragged a hand over my face. “How do you make it look so easy?”

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my head. “Because I love you.”

My gaze immediately shot upwards, meeting his eyes.

“Yes, but how do you make expressing your love so easy?” It was a genuine question, one that had often lingered in my mind.

He chuckled softly, then kissed my forehead. “Comes naturally to me.”

A wide smile bloomed on my face. “Then let me also do it.”

I reached for a scrunchie on the dressing table, a playful idea sparking in my mind, and slipped it onto Ruvit’s wrist.

His eyes lit up, a mischievous glint in them. “Marking ownership on me?”

“Fair.” I giggled, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. “You have certainly given me marks all over my body.”

He smirked, shaking his head with an amused sigh. “Let’s eat before you get any more ideas about skipping breakfast and devouring me instead.”

“Tempting.” I drawled, a playful challenge in my voice.

“Aridhi.” He groaned, a mixture of exasperation and affection in his tone.

And just like that, the air was filled with our laughter once more, light and carefree.

~·~

Enjoy the moments ?

Because the next chapters are

going to be dangerous. ??

A little bit of drama, and maybe some boring scenes?

Stay tuned for whatever it is! ????

Also, follow me on instagram.

I made a new account, which is flopping badly: @authorariya ??

Get me 20 followers or something, I will update chapter 1 of TLB!

(THE LAW brEAKER) ??????