Shobhana's POV

The chaos of the wedding ceremony had finally settled, leaving me emotionally drained and physically exhausted. I was glad it was over but felt a pang of sadness every time I thought about Sundar leaving. 

My brother, my partner-in-crime, was officially a married man. Still, I couldn't dwell on that too much because, well, Shubman Gill was in my room.

And let's just say he wasn't making it easy to focus on anything but him.

After the ceremony, I trudged back to my room with Shubman trailing behind me, phone in hand. His silk shirt, which had clung perfectly to his broad shoulders during the ceremony, was now slightly wrinkled, the first few buttons undone, revealing his toned chest. 

How can someone look so effortlessly hot even while looking like they just survived a tornado?

"Abhay apologized for not being able to make it here," he said, sitting on the bed and kicking off his sandals. 

His casual movements made him look like some kind of untouchable deity lounging on a mortal's furniture.

"It's okay," I replied, moving to the mirror. My saree, which had looked perfect this morning, was now slightly dishevelled, but it still clung to my curves in all the right ways. 

I tried to remove the necklace that had been digging into my skin for hours.

Suddenly, I felt warm hands on my shoulders.

"Let me," Shubman said softly, his voice lower than usual, making my heart race. He stood close behind me, his tall frame towering over mine as his fingers worked deftly to unclasp the necklace.

I glanced at him through the mirror and froze when I caught his gaze. He wasn't looking at the necklace; he was staring directly at me, his eyes dark and smouldering.

"Hi," he whispered, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

"Hey," I replied, my voice embarrassingly breathy.

"So..." He started, but his words trailed off as he leaned closer, pressing soft, teasing kisses along my neck. My knees almost buckled. His lips were warm, leaving a trail of fire down my skin.

"Babe," I whispered, a warning and a plea all at once.

He didn't stop. His arms snaked around my waist, pulling me flush against him. His lips found the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I turned in his arms, wrapping mine around his neck, and pressed my lips to his. 

His grip on my waist tightened as he deepened the kiss. I tangled my fingers in his hair, which was slightly damp from the heat of the day, and pulled him even closer.

But then—

Knock knock.

"Goddamn it!" I muttered, breaking away from him. He groaned, his forehead resting against mine, his lips brushing my ear.

"Whoever that is, I'm going to kill them," he grumbled, his voice rough with frustration.

I laughed, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before opening the door. Standing there was Roshan, my classmate.

"H-hey," he stuttered, avoiding eye contact.

"Hi, Roshan. What's up?" I asked, trying to sound casual while silently praying he wouldn't notice the state of my flushed face or Shubman's unmistakable presence in the background.

"I... I like you," he blurted out, his words tumbling over each other.

My jaw dropped. "What?"

"I like you," he repeated, his voice quieter this time.

I blinked at him, stunned. "Roshan, I— I have a boyfriend. And, um, I've never thought of you that way."

He visibly deflated. "Oh. Right. Sorry."

He turned and walked away before I could say anything else, leaving me standing there in disbelief. I closed the door and turned back to Shubman, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed, his shirt completely unbuttoned. 

His expression was a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

"Roshan just admitted he likes me," I said, still trying to process what had happened.

"And you turned him down, right?" Shubman asked, his tone sharper than usual.

"Obviously," I replied, rolling my eyes.

"Guess I need to make sure everyone knows you're mine," he said, his voice dropping into a growl as he grabbed my wrist and pulled me onto the bed.

"Shubman, what—" I started, but he silenced me with a kiss.

His lips were demanding, and possessive, leaving no room for protest. His hands found my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space between us. His shirt slipped off completely as he kissed me harder, his bare chest pressing against mine through the thin fabric of my saree.

He moved to my neck, his lips trailing fire along my skin. I let out a soft moan, and I felt him smirk against my shoulder.

"You're mine," he murmured against my skin, his voice filled with an intoxicating mix of passion and arrogance.

I pulled his face back up to mine, crashing my lips against his in response. My hands roamed his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles as he explored every inch of my neck and collarbone.

He suddenly pinned my wrists to the bed, his eyes locking with mine. "Say it," he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

"Say what?" I asked breathlessly.

"Say you're mine."

I stared at him for a moment, my lips curving into a sly smile. "I'm yours."

"That's my girl," he said, kissing me again, his tongue sweeping into my mouth as he deepened the kiss.

We finally pulled apart, both of us breathless and flushed. He lay beside me, pulling me into his arms.

"I love you," I whispered, my voice soft but full of sincerity.

"I love you too, baby," he replied, kissing the top of my head.

For once, everything felt perfect.