I stay like that for a second until I can’t hold back any longer. My body takes control of my actions and I thrust harder into her, unable to stop. I meet her wide-eyed gaze and see her shocked surprise as her tremors begin anew and her hips rise to join mine. In seconds, her body shatters. I capture her mouth and then my mind blanks out. I still inside her before collapsing on top of her.

“Fuck, Aaliya, you destroy me each time we make love,” I finally manage to rasp out as I rest my forehead against hers.

We’re both panting for breath when I move off her and gather her in my arms. She rests her head on my chest and I close my eyes, my body and mind both at peace.

Aaliya

DAMIEN’S FALLEN ASLEEP by my side, curled into me. I relish the familiarity of the moment and stay like that for a few minutes before heading for the shower again. I step out wrapped in a towel. I find Damien’s dark navy blue shirt from the previous night tossed on a chair and decide to wear it. It falls to my knees and I have to fold the arms several times over to be comfortable, but it’ll do for now. I brush my hair and leave it loose.

Once I’m sufficiently pleased with my attire, I leave the bedroom to explore. His apartment is a big space with an open kitchen, three big bedrooms with attached bathrooms, a huge drawing room, a dining room, a study and a big terraced garden. The furniture is simple and understated everywhere. All taupe and grey colors with wooden floorings in the bedrooms and granite floors in the main areas. The living room is a contrast of leather and wood. A glassed fireplace lines one wall of the living room. It adds an air of coziness to the space. On the whole the apartment is quite stark. There are no photos and no personal items anywhere. A few abstract paintings are placed here and there, but they too follow the same dark theme.

I bite my lip thinking of our home in Mumbai, which is filled with color and vibrant artwork. Pictures of Damien and me, and now Rian, are lined on shelves and adorn the walls. Exhaling, I head to the kitchen to fix myself a cup of coffee.

I smile on seeing the coffee machine; it’s a newer version of the one we have back at home in Mumbai. I make myself a cup, adding cream and sugar to it.

The sudden sound of a door shutting makes me jump out of my skin. I walk hesitantly to the living room where I see Mike all suited up and standing at attention just inside the hallway.