Read Online You Can't Fight a Royal Attraction by Ruchi Vasudeva - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ruchi Vasudeva
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thoughts?
‘Let me.’ He took over and began to wash and rinse the glasses, lean brown hands working methodically. The lines of the T-shirt he wore stretched, moulding his shoulders, outlining a muscled torso, a trim waist. For all that he hada desk job, he kept himself fit. The cargo pants fitted his waist well as he moved lithely…
He worked competently, glancing towards her briefly as he rinsed. Maybe it was just watching a man handle kitchenware. There was something intensely beguiling about it as he dried and systematically put the glasses away.
‘You’re indulging in the sexual equivalent of browsing.’ The deep rumble sent a shiver over her skin. She felt trapped—trapped by her awareness of him.
And he’d picked up on it. The acknowledgement threatened to be the game changer for them.
She wet suddenly dry lips. ‘Maybe I’m finding a man in the kitchen a turn-on. I never had the occasion to see one.’
She should learn to curb her runaway tongue. If the words were meant to dispel the awareness he had stirred between them, they failed. There was a moment of electric tension as his gaze met hers. She tried desperately to grasp at something to dispel it.
‘Like enough to try out?’ Lazily spoken, the mocking words floated to her. They stole the breath from her lungs.
CHAPTER FOUR
T URNING AWAY TO stir the onions in the pan, Saira shrugged and tried for a lighter teasing tone. ‘You aren’t as innocent as you pretend to be, are you?’
Breathe. Exhale. Heartbeat, slow down right now.
‘Me, pretend to be innocent!’ Rihaan laughed. ‘When did that happen?’
‘Stringent then,’ she answered back. He could laugh. As though he hadn’t practically propositioned her a minute ago. ‘Straitlaced, if you prefer. The way you were at the bar. Disapproving of my going off alone. Don’t drink… don’t enjoy… all that stuff.’
‘Having lived under a strict code of conduct all my life, I’d be the last person to prevent anyone from letting their hair down,’ he murmured.
‘So you weren’t so pampered after all?’
He shrugged. ‘Let’s just say there were lines of discipline I was expected to maintain. And if I didn’t there were consequences.’
‘Your parents used to be the domineering type?’
‘My father, certainly.’
She made a sound of sympathy. ‘Maybe it’s a vestige of your childhood. You can’t let go of those disciplinary measures. You know what, you need to unwind. I think you should dance.’
Rihaan looked as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. ‘I should?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Now your freaky side is showing.’
‘No, really. Dance is freedom. It’s like swimming in the natural waters. You know, unrestricted by the pool boundaries.’ She began to enjoy herself, getting ready to take him off his stride. He acted so stuffy. Just think, she was actually doing him good being here. The man who didn’t even shower without thinking of writing. He needed to be distracted from his fixations. She continued, ‘I don’t mean social dancing. Dance for yourself. Alone or wherever. It gets you in the swing. Makes you accept yourself.’
She thought of the times she had locked her room and filled it with music. The moments of freedom neither Munish nor his mom could take from her. Social dancing was very well but within those walls she had danced for herself, openly, not in the mincing steps ladies of status were allowed.
‘That’s a strange idea. Going crazy and then admiring yourself,’ Rihaan said.
The dry tone made her laugh, ‘You’re right at that. It is crazy but when do we have time to be crazy? When was the last time you did something silly—like, say, dancing in the kitchen?’ Impulsively, she reached for her phone and put on some music.
A peppy beat began to thrum in the air. ‘Come on.’ She began to move, side to side, in step with the beat, turning round and raising her arms up to execute a sideways hip thrust. Moving forward and
‘Let me.’ He took over and began to wash and rinse the glasses, lean brown hands working methodically. The lines of the T-shirt he wore stretched, moulding his shoulders, outlining a muscled torso, a trim waist. For all that he hada desk job, he kept himself fit. The cargo pants fitted his waist well as he moved lithely…
He worked competently, glancing towards her briefly as he rinsed. Maybe it was just watching a man handle kitchenware. There was something intensely beguiling about it as he dried and systematically put the glasses away.
‘You’re indulging in the sexual equivalent of browsing.’ The deep rumble sent a shiver over her skin. She felt trapped—trapped by her awareness of him.
And he’d picked up on it. The acknowledgement threatened to be the game changer for them.
She wet suddenly dry lips. ‘Maybe I’m finding a man in the kitchen a turn-on. I never had the occasion to see one.’
She should learn to curb her runaway tongue. If the words were meant to dispel the awareness he had stirred between them, they failed. There was a moment of electric tension as his gaze met hers. She tried desperately to grasp at something to dispel it.
‘Like enough to try out?’ Lazily spoken, the mocking words floated to her. They stole the breath from her lungs.
CHAPTER FOUR
T URNING AWAY TO stir the onions in the pan, Saira shrugged and tried for a lighter teasing tone. ‘You aren’t as innocent as you pretend to be, are you?’
Breathe. Exhale. Heartbeat, slow down right now.
‘Me, pretend to be innocent!’ Rihaan laughed. ‘When did that happen?’
‘Stringent then,’ she answered back. He could laugh. As though he hadn’t practically propositioned her a minute ago. ‘Straitlaced, if you prefer. The way you were at the bar. Disapproving of my going off alone. Don’t drink… don’t enjoy… all that stuff.’
‘Having lived under a strict code of conduct all my life, I’d be the last person to prevent anyone from letting their hair down,’ he murmured.
‘So you weren’t so pampered after all?’
He shrugged. ‘Let’s just say there were lines of discipline I was expected to maintain. And if I didn’t there were consequences.’
‘Your parents used to be the domineering type?’
‘My father, certainly.’
She made a sound of sympathy. ‘Maybe it’s a vestige of your childhood. You can’t let go of those disciplinary measures. You know what, you need to unwind. I think you should dance.’
Rihaan looked as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. ‘I should?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Now your freaky side is showing.’
‘No, really. Dance is freedom. It’s like swimming in the natural waters. You know, unrestricted by the pool boundaries.’ She began to enjoy herself, getting ready to take him off his stride. He acted so stuffy. Just think, she was actually doing him good being here. The man who didn’t even shower without thinking of writing. He needed to be distracted from his fixations. She continued, ‘I don’t mean social dancing. Dance for yourself. Alone or wherever. It gets you in the swing. Makes you accept yourself.’
She thought of the times she had locked her room and filled it with music. The moments of freedom neither Munish nor his mom could take from her. Social dancing was very well but within those walls she had danced for herself, openly, not in the mincing steps ladies of status were allowed.
‘That’s a strange idea. Going crazy and then admiring yourself,’ Rihaan said.
The dry tone made her laugh, ‘You’re right at that. It is crazy but when do we have time to be crazy? When was the last time you did something silly—like, say, dancing in the kitchen?’ Impulsively, she reached for her phone and put on some music.
A peppy beat began to thrum in the air. ‘Come on.’ She began to move, side to side, in step with the beat, turning round and raising her arms up to execute a sideways hip thrust. Moving forward and
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