Chapter 44

rulama

@rulama

MARRYING KHUSHI

EPILOGUE

Part 2

"You make me laugh at the most awkward of moments, Arnavji!" Khushi complained. "You trouble me all the time." They were in their bedroom in Gomti Sadan, the whole family accepting the Guptas' offer of hospitality rather than staying at Sheesh Mahal, especially as it was the venue of the show.

"Really?" ASR trapped Khushi in his arms, standing behind her.

"Ji, really. What if Hari Prakashji had come in to the kitchen last weekend?" Khushi blushed.

"He would have learned not to do so in the future if he valued his life, limb & job. And I had you well... covered, didn't I? I made sure that you didn't giggle & give away our presence, didn't I?" ASR smiled wickedly against the soft, fragrant skin of her neck.

Khushi gasped. "Pushing me against the wall, touching me here and there, and giving me chumban! So you were trying to give Hari Prakashji education? And when I was making the rangoli...?" Khushi tried to squirm out of his hold, but his arms tightened around her bare midriff.

"The design was imperfectly done." ASR declared.

"Acha? So that is why you knocked me down and made me fall on the design? And fell on me? How kind! I didn't know you had such a big heart!"

ASR bit the lobe of her ear. "I have a big heart, a very big heart..." he claimed, his fingers playing across her navel and upwards.

"And a very big head." Khushi retorted. "And naughty fingers." She tried to prise his hands from her waist but was unsuccessful.

"I didn't hear you complaining about my naughty fingers when I did this last night." His husky whisper in her ears and the touch of his knowing fingers turned her into mush.

She moaned, groaned and implored. He stole kisses but avoided her lips.

Khushi turned her face to his, offering him free use of her lips, but he seemed deaf, dumb & blind.

"Arnavji!" she whimpered.

"Hhmmm?" he asked, his entire attention on bringing her to her knees.

She turned in his arms and threw herself at him.

"Arnavji..." her eager lips attacked his, her frantic fingers clutched his hair, wanting succour from this fever of need that racked her body, wanting a release that only he could give her. She didn't even notice the red sari that her tailor husband had made for her slip down her body to lie on the floor like a bright crimson patch.