Neha's breath hitched as Harsh's thumb lingered on her wrist. The touch was electric, sending unfamiliar currents down her spine. "Bhaiya...?" she whispered, her doe eyes wide with confusion. Harsh smirked, leaning in until his lips almost brushed her ear. "Tumhari skin kitni soft hai, Neha," he murmured, his voice a rough whisper. "College jaa rahi ho, lekin abhi tak bacchi ki tarah behave karti ho." His hand slid up her arm, fingertips tracing the curve of her shoulder. Neha shivered, her pulse racing. She didn’t understand why her body was reacting this way—why his touch made her stomach clench.
Neha's breath came in shallow gasps as Harsh's fingers trailed higher, his touch featherlight yet searing. "Bhaiya... yeh... kya kar rahe ho?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. The warmth of his palm against her bare shoulder sent a jolt through her, a sensation so foreign it left her trembling.
Write a comment ...