Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors (The Rajes #1)(128)
Based on the fact that she pressed back into him, harder this time, she didn’t seem to mind. “Maybe you’re having trouble breathing because a different part of your body is taking up all the oxygen in your system.”
She was definitely going to kill him, because even when he was hornier than he had ever been in his life, he laughed. “Maybe. You’re the doctor. You could, you know, investigate?”
She turned around, laughter bubbling from her, and reached for his belt, yanking it off with gusto. “Research is my first love.”
“And thank the good Lord for that.” He grabbed her face and took her lips. Not soft, not gentle. Her response was just as fierce, yet it softened and warmed everything inside him.
Something about the way she kissed was all consuming, like it wasn’t his mouth but his entire being that her lips were claiming. And she took her time. She was such a bloody surgeon, thorough and obsessively attentive. She caressed his lips with hers, and caressed his lips, and caressed his lips, and went on until her knees could no longer hold her up and she was sliding against him. He lifted her and fitted her against him. She wrapped her legs around his hips, her feet finding purchase on his arse.
“You have a ridiculously spectacular butt,” she whispered into his mouth, tracing the rise with the arches of her feet.
He groaned into her mouth, his heartbeat going insane in his chest. Her feet caressed and traced him, then hooked into his jeans and slid them off his hips. The soles of her feet found his overheated flesh through the cotton of his boxers and used it like an erotic toy.
He pulled away from the kiss and leaned his forehead into hers. She had taken him completely by surprise, and yet she hadn’t. “Trisha, love, are you trying to kill me?”
Her feet stroked his butt again, and she watched him with eyes both shy and drunk on power. “All I’m saying, DJ, is that I love your butt. I love it so much I think I want to marry it.”
His chest started to shake. “You’re such a romantic!”
Her hands ran down his chest and slipped under his shirt. “You laugh with your chest, you know that?” Her fingers slid through the sensitive sprinkling of hair, playing him like an instrument, stroking down his chest to his abs. “And your skin. I love your skin.”
His head was starting to swell almost as much as other body parts, and it felt almost as bloody good. He cupped her cheek and caressed it with his thumb. “And I love yours. It’s beautiful.” It was flawless and dewy, and there was a sprinkling of the faintest freckles across her high cheekbones. He kissed each one, dragging his lips against the smoothness.
“No, seriously, you don’t understand your skin is like silk.”
He smiled into her face. Dropped another possessive kiss on her lips. “And you haven’t seen the silkiest parts yet,” he whispered into her mouth.
“Any chance we can fix that soon, Mr. Caine? Like maybe tonight?” Her words were bold but she blushed. Connection crackled between them.
“You sure, Dr. Raje? Because we can take it slow.”
“Can we take it fast first, and then take it slow later?” she said, pulling his mouth to hers again.
He carried her to the biggest, highest four-poster bed he’d ever seen, because his days of refusing her anything were long gone.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Four months later . . .
Did Aji really teach your boyfriend to make ladoos?” Vansh asked, taking the box of sweets out of Trisha’s hands. And by “taking” she meant grabbing with both hands and then pulling with all his might when she wouldn’t let go. The boy was skinny, but all that puttering around the world had done nothing to sap his strength.
“Thank you,” he said with all the politeness befitting a Raje when she finally let the box go. Then he opened the box and stuffed three ladoos—yes, three—in his face. “Did your boyfriend really make these? You should totally keep him.”
She scowled at him. “When do you go back to Zambia?”
“Zimbabwe, Dr. Clueless.” He smiled and took the box with him to the patio overlooking the ocean where everyone was gathered.
They were celebrating Yash exceeding his fund-raising goal for the month twice over with a private family weekend, or minibreak as DJ called it, making her a little light-headed. Steele had chosen to not run against Yash after all; he hadn’t been able to stand up against Yash’s oratory and his message of bringing right versus wrong to government. The fact that Naina had come down to fund-raise for two weeks hadn’t hurt either. Californians couldn’t get enough of her supermodel looks and her UN ambassador heart. She hadn’t stayed for the celebration, but if Yash loved her enough to not care, who was Trisha to question things?
“I don’t leave for another two months, sorry,” the baby brat said. “TP needs me to save his ass with the SFPD project.” Vansh had found a way to get DJ, Yash, and Officer Dunn to meet for beers at some dive bar and was working with them on a training program at the SFPD. It was still all very shaky and uncertain, but shaky and uncertain had always been Vansh’s drug of choice.
He took another two ladoos from the box and then had the gall to pass the box around!
Needless to say, the sweet cream-of-wheat balls started disappearing before her eyes. DJ took her hand and pulled her into his lap. “I put some aside for you, Shasha,” he whispered in her ear.