Dating Dr. Dil (If Shakespeare was an Auntie #1)(48)

He turned to look at the house across the yard. It was a beautiful home and lit up like Diwali.

“It’s nice of your dad to offer the house up for the party. All the Shah Rukh Khan stuff is weird as hell, but I get it. Themed party.”

Kareena hummed. “My mother used to do that, too. Themed parties. She was a lot better at it though. She loved having people over. That’s one of the reasons why she wanted a big house.”

“Is that why you love it, too?”

“Over the years, decorating the home for company became something my mother and I shared. We’d also do these renovation projects together, like painting rooms or adding shelving. When she died, I continued that legacy. I’ve also redone the bathrooms myself, wallpapered the laundry room, and redesigned the landscaping.”

“What’s your favorite room?” he asked.

“This shed,” she said. “This is an add-on, and it feels uniquely mine, but it’s part of what my mother started here.”

Prem motioned to the car. It was all making sense and coming together now. “You’re a fixer. The car, the house, the job, everything.”

“Except my love life, apparently,” she muttered. She shifted, and her chest rose and fell. That undone button at the top captured his attention.

“That Instagram post is more trouble than you can imagine,” Kareena continued, unaware of his fragmenting concentration. “I had this dumb fantasy when I was growing up. I’d pull into the driveway in my E30, walk in through the front door, and embrace my family. The home that my mother built would be the home that I’d create. But I’m thirty now, and I’m asking a bunch of gossiping desi women to help me because I’m that desperate.”

Prem pulled at his kurta collar that began to stick to his skin from the heat. Despite the weather, he pushed the shed doors closed so that only a sliver of light peeked through. “I may not believe in love marriages, Rina, honey, but if you believe in them, then you should have it. Wait as long as you want for the right person to come along.”

She lifted her head to look at him. “Even if you think it’s stupid?”

“Even then.”

“That’s a lie that I can get behind.”

Ouch. He moved to the front of the car and pulled the payal from his pocket. “You dropped something,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow, and after hesitating, she fisted her lehenga fabric in one hand and pulled it up slowly to expose her ankles. Then her calf and finally her knee.

Desire shot straight to Prem’s groin as he watched Kareena expose inch by golden brown inch. Charlie threatened to poke a hole through his pants, he was so turned on. If that’s how she wanted to play this, he was game.

Tracing a fingertip over the top of her foot, he touched the delicate lines of her ankle and enjoyed her shiver. “I didn’t get to touch this yet,” he murmured.

Prem urged her to bend her knee so the sole of her foot rested against the car hood before he wrapped the payal in place and fastened the ends together. The bells fell against her ankle joint, and he flicked them once to hear the sweet chime. Then, without warning, he ran a hand up the length of her leg under her skirt, gripped her thigh, and pulled.

Kareena gasped and slid down the length of the hood, until she was straddling his waist. Prem hooked two fingers in the front of her blouse, right over the unfastened clasp, and tugged until she was sitting up. Her head fell back, exposing the lines of her throat.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was breathy and indignant all at the same time.

Prem rested a finger against her lips. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Her eyes widened, and they were so soft, so beautiful in the dim light of the shed. “Wh-what?”

“I said I’m sorry. You were right to call me a liar. I shouldn’t have said that the kiss was just for show.”

“Then . . . wh-what was it?”

“I don’t know, Kareena,” he said softly, exposing himself. “I don’t know, but ever since I saw you standing at the bar, I knew that you were going to change me. I wasn’t wrong, because even now, even after knowing that we want different things, I plan on kissing you again.” They were close now, and his heart was beating at an erratic rate. He touched her face, tracing the line of her jaw, and watched as desire filmed over her gaze.

“This was only Plan B,” Kareena whispered. She shook her head so that her hair fell in a sleek black waterfall down her back.

Prem leaned in kissed the curve of her collarbone. “Now who’s lying,” he whispered. She tasted deliciously soft, and the heady scent of sandalwood and vanilla haunted him the same way the memory of it haunted his dreams.

He cupped her face, his mouth hovering over hers for a moment in frozen time. Then Kareena’s hands streaked up his chest to tangle in his hair. He groaned as her mouth claimed his.

The rush of lust was just as potent as the first time. Prem pressed a thumb to her chin, and when she parted her lips, he slid his tongue against hers, fitting against her. He hadn’t imagined it. She was perfect.

His hands fell from her face and gripped the top of her thighs that bracketed his hips. The skirt bunched, and even as their lips locked, sliding over each other with a cresting hunger, Prem moved the fabric aside so that he could grip the bare skin of her inner thighs.