The silence in the room was comfortable, heavy with the scent of their exertion. Harshad lay still, listening to the rhythm of Shivangi’s breathing as it evened out, slowing from the frantic gasps of their climax to a soft, steady hum. He watched the rise and fall of her chest, the way her dark lashes cast shadows against her flushed cheeks. She looked peaceful, utterly spent, and devastatingly beautiful. But as he stared at her, the itch under his skin began to return. It wasn't just arousal; it was a restless, demanding energy that refused to be quelled by simple satisfaction.

The promise of the night hung between them, thick and palpable. Two days. The words echoed in his mind, a vow he intended to keep with religious fervor. Harshad had claimed her on the bed, had erased the ghosts of shivangi past lovers with his hands and his mouth, but there was a territory he had yet to fully conquer. A darker, more taboo landscape that had always hovered at the edge of their encounters, hinted at in whispers and teasing touches but never fully breached.