?Love cum Arranged marriage?
NOT A STANDALONE-Must read Blended by Fate before this.
~I found you without looking, and fell in love without trying.~
He was content in the group of 'his' people but in enters a new admission in 6th standard: a shy, ti...
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I was busy making tea when two strong arms wrapped around me from behind, and I felt my husband bury his face in my hair, inhaling deeply. His obsession with my hair is something else—always sniffing, kissing, or absentmindedly twirling strands between his fingers. And honestly? It melts my heart every single time.
It also makes me take extra care of my hair, just for him.
I mean, when a man goes as far as handpicking hundreds of bows in different colors and styles just because he melted when he saw one in my hair during our honeymoon, the least I can do is keep my hair at its gorgeous best.
He hums in satisfaction, pressing soft, lingering kisses along my neck. A shiver runs down my spine, and before I can even think about controlling it, a moan escapes my lips. Goddamn! I am so sensitive these days. A little touch, a simple kiss, and I'm melting faster than butter on a searing hot pan.
His arms brush against my chest, and just like that—instant reaction. My breath hitches, another moan slipping out, louder this time. It startles both of us.
Advik immediately steps back, turning me in his arms, his dark eyes filled with amusement. Cupping my face, he tilts his head, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.
"What was that, Bugu? So sensitive, huh? I barely touched you, and you're already like this?"
Oh, I swear! If I weren't so young, I'd knock out those annoyingly perfect pearly whites just to wipe that smug look off his face. But since I am too young to be the wife of a gummy husband, all I can do is glare at him with every ounce of irritation I can muster.
He simply chuckles, smoothing a hand over my forehead as if to erase my frown. Then, he leans in and kisses my nose. And just like that, I'm smiling.
Ahh, my sunshine husband. He simply cannot see me frown, sulk, or be anything less than utterly joyful. It's so annoying how I can't even stay mad at him for an hour.
Rabba, eda sona pati de ditta mainu ki ohde naal ladna vi enna mushkil si. (God, you've given me such a green flag husband that even fighting with him is impossible.)
"Is it PMS? Are you having symptoms other than sensitivity? Cramps? Mood swings? Why didn't you tell me, Bugge? And—" I shut him up the best way I know how—kissing him. His lips warm, familiar, intoxicating, and mine.
When I pull back, breathless, I cup his face, whispering, "It's nothing like that. You'd have sensed it already if it were PMS. Now, tell me—how else do you expect me to react when my husband decides to be so unfairly sexy first thing in the morning? Doing unmentionable things to my body, and then looking like that?" I motion at his bare chest, his entire sinful existence. His eyes wifen at my words before throwing his head back and laughing.
"Now, shoo! Put on a shirt or something. Because whewww—this level of distraction is dangerous for my still-groggy, sleepy self!" I wave my hand, turning back to the kitchen platform.
