Kareena shook her head, snapping out of the memory. She couldn’t think about Prem right now. He’d robbed her of her concentration all week since their date at the Met, and since that kiss that fried her available brain cells. This was no corner-mouth kiss. This was a full-frontal assault on her senses. With the absence of alcohol, it was one of the best she’d ever had in her life.
There would be other men to kiss. Specifically, the one she planned on spending her entire life with. Here’s hoping he’d be just as skilled as Prem with commanding strokes of his tongue, and an iron grip around her body that made her feel like she was the sole source of water in the desert.
She could barely look at herself in the mirror after she realized that she’d masturbated more times in the shower that week remembering that kiss than she cared to admit.
“He isn’t the one,” Kareena whispered. “He isn’t the one.”
Her front door swung open, and her best friends burst in.
“Hey, where’s the fire—”
They shoved past her, their salwar kameezes glittering as they moved.
“You have got to see this,” Veera said as she and Bobbi rushed to Kareena’s window that faced the front of the house.
“The car pulled up right as we got to the front door,” Bobbi said. “They’re wearing Indian clothes.”
The words were said with such reverence that Kareena bolted after her friends and squeezed between them so she could get a clear line of sight through her bedroom window to the front walkway.
Then it happened.
Three desi men got out of the low-slung Audi at the curb with grace and power in every movement. They all wore black or slate-gray sherwani kurtas and dress pants. All of them carried flowers or bottles of alcohol.
Like a goddamn slow-motion movie scene, they either ran their fingers through their perfectly styled hair, or over their trim cut beards as their long, powerful strides ate up the concrete. Each one of them walked with swagger-and-plunder vibes.
Kareena’s heart caught in her throat when Prem, front and center, glanced up at her window, then did a double take. He slowed, and his friends, both taking their cue from Prem, came to a stop at his side.
His eyes locked with hers, and her pulse pounded in her throat.
“Holy shit,” Bobbi said with a whisper. “That man came to slay you, Kareena. With that fitted black kurta? He’s playing dirty.”
“And damn, does it look good on him,” Veera added.
They weren’t lying. The kurta opened at Prem’s throat and cut at midthigh. It fit snug across his wide chest and accented his muscled arms. He passed over the bottle he was holding to the man on his right, and slowly folded up his sleeves.
Bobbi gasped and Veera muffled a squeal behind her hand.
“The audacity,” Bobbi said with a whisper. “He wants to kiss you again. Guaranteed.”
Damn if Kareena didn’t want that, too, especially when he was looking like such a snack. “I should’ve never told you what happened.”
“Honey, everyone knew what happened after that Instagram post,” Veera said.
Prem’s friends looked amused when Dr. Dil himself pointed an index and middle finger at his eyes then at her.
I’m watching you. I want you. I’m going to win.
She wasn’t sure if that was exactly what he was thinking, but it didn’t matter. The bastard was not going to have the upper hand here. Not in her home. Kareena pulled away from the window and straightened her lehenga. “I have absolutely no idea why his friends are with him.”
“Probably because you told the aunties you were inviting us as decoys so that the attention wasn’t going to be on you,” Bobbi said.
“And what, they told Prem to bring his friends? To distract you both?”
“It could work, too,” Veera mumbled.
“Hey!”
“I’m just saying!” She shrugged. “By the way, you look great.”
“At least that’s something,” Kareena said, smoothing a hand over her long skirt. “It’s the first time I’m going to see the aunties after they found that picture of Prem and me kissing. I need to have my armor shiny and secure. And with Prem here, the pressure is going to be even worse.”
Bobbi was still glued to the window. She flipped her long parandi over one shoulder. The end of her braid had a shiny jeweled tie. “The taller dude looks superfamiliar.”
“That might be his friend Benjamin Padda.”
Bobbi turned slowly until she looked coolly at Kareena. “The Benjamin Padda? Chef and owner of Phataka Grill? The guy I’ve been trying to get in touch with for months?”