CHAPTER:3

Third night.

I should’ve been used to her by now. But every time I saw her, it was like my blood thickened. Like my body remembered things my head kept trying to forget.

The rules were still clear.

No repeats after night five.

No jealousy.

No feelings.

No falling.

And yet.

She opened the door wearing nothing but one of my shirts. The black one she’d stolen from the suite last time, sleeves rolled up, the hem brushing her bare thighs.

"Didn't think you'd notice I kept it," she said casually.

“I noticed,” I replied, stepping in. “I also noticed you're not wearing anything underneath.”

Her lips curled. “Keeps things efficient.”

“Efficient is boring,” I growled.

“I’m not here to entertain you, Veer.”

“Yes, you are."

I kissed her before she could argue.

She didn’t fight back this time. She kissed me like she’d missed me—which was interesting, considering she hadn't replied to a single message all week.

I pushed her against the wall. Her legs wrapped around me. My hands slipped beneath the shirt, and I lifted her in one motion.

Her head fell back as I sucked on her throat, biting just enough to mark her.

"Someone might see," she whispered breathlessly.

"Good."

I carried her to the bed and threw her down.

“Face down.” I said .

She blinked.

“You heard me.” this time with dominance.

She hesitated for a beat. Then rolled over and offered herself to me, slowly, deliberately, like she was daring me to do my worst.

I stripped fast—shirt, pants, everything—and climbed on top of her, one hand pressed against the small of her back, the other fisting her hair.

When I slid into her, we both groaned.

She was tight. Wet. Furious with need.

I moved hard and fast. Not out of lust. Out of frustration. Out of the ache of wanting more and knowing I wasn’t supposed to.

She clawed at the sheets. Bit down on the pillow. Whispered my name between gasps.

“Faster,” she breathed.

I gave her what she wanted.

Her body shook as she came around me, her moans swallowed by the mattress. But I didn’t stop. I flipped her onto her back, pinned her hands above her head, and slammed into her again.

She cried out, her eyes locked on mine. Open. Unfiltered.

Raw.

“You feel too good,” I whispered. “You ruin me.”

Her breath hitched. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t afford to be ruined.”

I stilled inside her.

She looked away, blinking too fast. Like maybe she was afraid she’d said too much.

I kissed her.

Not rough Not dirty but Soft.

She didn’t kiss me back at first.

Then she did.

Slow. Lingering. Like she’d forgotten we weren’t supposed to care.

When we finally broke apart, I rested my forehead against hers.

“I don’t want this to end in two nights,” I murmured.

She stiffened.

“That’s not the deal,” she said.

“Screw the deal.”

“No,” she whispered. “That’s exactly why we made it.”

I watched her get up, wrap a sheet around herself, and walk to the window. Her back was to me, but I could feel her walls slamming back into place.

“I don’t believe in immature feeling Veer. I don’t believe in losses in live nor in business. I’ve built everything by keeping things clean. Controlled. If you pull me under, I won’t float. I’ll drown.”

I got up and walked behind her, slid my arms around her waist.

“You don’t have to float,” I whispered. “I’ll hold you.”

She turned her face slightly.

And for a second, she almost believed me.

But then she pulled away.

“We have two nights left,” she said quietly. “Don’t make them harder.”

Too late they were already impossible.

Fourth night.

I should’ve walked away. Should’ve treated her like any other contract—burn it out, fuck it clean, move on.

But every time I looked at her, something in me paused. Something unfamiliar. Dangerous.

I wasn’t supposed to care.But I did.

When I reached her flat in Bandra, I expected the usual: a door slightly ajar, music playing, her silhouette framed like a goddamn fever dream.

Instead, it was silence. Locked door. A message on my phone.

Come in. I left it open for you. Bedroom.

Cryptic.

I stepped inside. Dim lights. Vanilla and musk hanging in the air. Something tight pulled in my gut.

Her bedroom door was cracked. I pushed it open slowly.

And stopped breathing.

She was lying on the bed. Nude. Arms stretched above her. Tied to the headboard with black silk.

Waiting.

Her lips curled when she saw me. "You're late."

"You're tied up," I said, voice gravel.

“You like it when I give in.”

“Dangerous thing to admit.”

I walked closer, unbuttoning my shirt. Her eyes followed every movement. She was watching me like prey watches a predator—and still, somehow, like she was in control.

I ran a finger from her throat down to her navel.

“You didn’t even flinch,” I murmured.

She smiled. “I trust your hands.”

That one sentence wrecked me more than the sight of her body ever could.

I stripped fast. Got on the bed. Straddled her.

I didn’t take her immediately. No. I kissed her wrists where the silk bit into her skin. I licked down her neck, over her breasts. I kissed her thighs, biting lightly, leaving my mark.

Her breath hitched.

But she stayed quiet.Not tonight, baby.

I brushed her with my fingers, slick and warm and aching.

“You’re dripping for me,” I whispered, sliding two fingers in.

Her moan hit me square in the spine.

“I want to ruin you tonight,” I said. “Make you remember me in every place I touched.”

“Then stop talking,” she rasped.

I laughed low, dark.

Then I made good on the promise.

I went down on her until she writhed, moaning my name,

"Veer ! Veer !", tugging helplessly at the silk. Her first orgasm hit her hard, her body clenching, trembling, as she cried out into the sheets.

And then I gave her no pause.

I flipped her, untied her, pressed her chest to the mattress, and entered her from behind.

Raw. Deep. Possessive.

Her knuckles turned white on the sheets. I fisted her hair, pulled her up against my chest, and whispered in her ear:

"Say my name."

“Veer,” she gasped.

"Louder."

“Veer."

She sounded like she was falling apart. And maybe… maybe she was.

I came inside her with a roar, heart pounding, hips jerking, everything in me unraveling.

We collapsed.

Hot skin. Messy hair. No space between us.

And for once, she didn’t move away.

She stayed.

Her head resting on my chest. Her fingers tracing lazy circles over my stomach.

“Tell me something real,” I said softly.

She didn’t answer for a while.

Then, quietly—almost too quiet—

“When I was sixteen, I sold fake paintings to rich men just to keep the lights on. I slept in a storage unit behind a failed gallery. I had nothing but a sketchbook and a lockpick.”

I froze.

She kept tracing circles. “Now, I have more than I ever dreamed. But I still feel like I’m one bad kiss away from losing it all.”

I didn’t say anything.

Just pulled her tighter against me.

She let me.

For a while, we just breathed.

Then she whispered something that nearly broke me.

“One night left.”

I wanted to tell her, Screw the contract. Stay. Let me keep you.

But I didn’t.

Because I knew if I said it too soon, she’d run.

So instead, I kissed the top of her head.