Dheere Dheere Se – Part 33

Maan nodded. He got out and then before Geet could step down, reached her side

“I’ll manage” “No you’ll not with your twisted ankle and this road” and ignoring her resistance he picked her in arms.

It took Maan a good fifteen minutes of walking to finally arrive at the lodge. Although the place was entirely booked, after a great deal of persuasion and handing over a considerable amount of cash, the clerk managed to secure a corner room for them.

*********

Maan placed Geet on the floor and turned the key to open the door to the room. He stepped into the room and switched on the lights

The room was extremely basic—so basic, in fact, that it felt quite inadequate. There was a double bed, rather plain, along with a simple table and a few chairs. Maan scanned the room while Geet quietly followed him. The fact that they would be sharing this space made her heart race. Although she was still troubled by what she had learned about his past, she couldn’t deny the strong effect he had on her.

Geet was lost in her thoughts when she suddenly felt herself being lifted into the air. It took her a moment to realize she was in his arms, as he carried her inside and gently seated her on the bamboo reclining armchair.

Maan then walked over, closed the door, and fastened the latch. Geet’s heart raced wildly—like that of a newlywed bride locked in a room with her groom. She trusted him completely, yet it was her own rising desire and vivid imagination she didn’t trust. Yes, she was disturbed; still, something about being shut inside with him—the heavy snowfall outside and the rustic simplicity of the room which seemed to deepen the raw, unguarded stirings of her heart.

Maan was controlling his heart as well, trying to keep a poker face. He cannot scare her but also cannot miss his chance to show her what special place she holds in his heart.

Maan turned to see Geet hugging herself tightly, her teeth chattering uncontrollably. Oh, damn—she had been out in the snow for far too long. Their eyes met, and neither of them looked away. Keeping their gaze locked, Maan slipped off his suit jacket and hung it on the chair beside him. Then, moving slowly toward her, he began unbuttoning his shirt.

Well, Geet was already having all types of thoughts locked in a confined space with him, and he was making it hard. What was he up to?

Maan took off his shirt as he closed the distance between them. Geet’s hands fell weakly to her sides, and she swallowed hard, trying to calm her racing heart. Maan slipped his shirt off completely, his gaze never once breaking away from hers.

He stretched out his hand toward her, his shirt—still warm from his body—dangling from his fingers.

“Change into this,” he said quietly.

“I’m fine,” she barely managed to whisper.

“No, you’re not. You’re drenched in melted snow—you’ll catch a cold. You need to dry off, and until then, wear this.”

Geet hesitated

“Geet, no discussions here. You’re definitely getting sick like this, and I’m not letting that happen. Change… or I will.” Geet immediately took the shirt from him

“What did he mean by ‘or I will’ ?”

With Maan’s support, Geet stepped behind the wooden carved partition, its intricate patterns allowing slivers of light to filter through the gaps. Maan quietly walked away, giving her the privacy she needed. Yet, even in their silence, their hearts were pounding wildly—so loud it almost filled the stillness that had taken over the room.

Geet held his shirt, which was filled with his fragrance and warmth. It was so much him, so close to her. She inhaled deeply, and his smell filled her within.

Maan, in the meantime, went to place the wood in the fireplace. With snow outside and no electric heating system available, this was the only thing that would keep them warm.

Maan placed a few wooden sticks and logs into the fireplace, tossed in some fire starters, and lit the flame. As the fire crackled to life, he turned to check on Geet. His heart, however, had already begun to overtake his restraint; he couldn’t help himself; he turned to look at her again.

Maybe the restlessness was mutual, for he found Geet’s eyes fixed on him. She was nervously fiddling with his shirt, her fingers mercilessly creasing the expensive fabric, but as if he cared. His attention was entirely on her—and on the fact that she still hadn’t even begun to take off her wet clothes, while the room around them grew colder by every minute.

He rose from his place, took his suit jacket from the chair, and draped it over the partition.

“Now change quickly,” he said—just as Geet let out a soft “Aachhii,” sneezing mid-sentence.

“Can you?” he asked gently.

“I’m changing,” she replied faintly.

As if the weight of their feelings made the air heavy, the words barely came out of their lips.

Maan turned back to the fireplace, pretending to busy himself with arranging the wood. But his eyes refused to obey for long—they kept drifting toward her.

Geet had placed her wet top over the partition and picked up his shirt. Maan tried hard to steady his thoughts, but when she quietly set her damp bra beside the top, he instinctively looked away, struggling to control the storm within. Geet, flustered, tried to hide it under her clothes.

Her gaze moved up on its own, and for a fleeting second, their eyes met through the carved gaps. Her heartbeat quickened; she turned away abruptly and slipped his shirt on, wrapping herself in its warmth. Her pulse thudded wildly as she could feel his gaze still resting on her.

Geet shut her eyes tightly as her trembling fingers moved to the buttons of her trousers. Maan’s heart skipped a beat when the fabric slipped down and pooled at her feet. She tried to lift her leg, but a sharp pain from her twisted ankle stopped her midway.

Without uttering a word, Maan rose from his place. Geet clutched the shirt at her chest in a tight fist, her breath uneven, unsure of what he would do next.

Maan pulled a chair close to the fireplace, then slowly made his way around to the other side of the partition—where Geet stood, draped in his shirt, her trousers gathered at her feet.

Neither spoke; their eyes did all the talking. Maan stepped closer, closing the space between them. Geet stood frozen, lost in him—seeing him like this for the first time, unguarded and raw, his strong, sculpted frame glistening in the flickering glow of the fire.

Maan inched even closer, his eyes fixed on her face. He lifted his right hand, his index finger making soft contact with her chin. Geet closed her eyes, breathing heavily. Maan rolled her wet curl in his finger, playing with it, moved even closer, wrapped another hand around her waist, pulling her close to him, gluing her to him.

He tucked a few damp curls behind her ear, then bent down and lifted her into his arms.

Geet’s heart raced madly as their eyes met. A rush of shyness colored her cheeks crimson, especially when she felt the heat of his forearm against her bare thighs. She quickly turned to hide her face against his chest—but that only deepened her blush, as her flushed cheek brushed his skin, her lips almost grazing him just above his vest.

Maan carried her to the chair by the fireplace and gently set her down. Then, kneeling before her, he lifted her feet and rested them on a small pile of logs near the flickering fire. The warmth of the flames seeped into her skin, but it was his nearness, his touch, that truly set her burning from within.

Maan settled himself on one of the logs beside her feet, his hands moving in slow, careful circles over her twisted ankle. His gaze lifted to her face, steady and intense.

At this moment, all his past story blurred from her mind, nor did she want to bring them back. She just wanted to be in the moment, the moment where he was doing everything that showed her how special she was. The way he sat near her feet – no ego, rubbing her feet – as if they were his, clearly conveying how much he was hers and how much he knew she was his.

Geet was lost in his eyes that were fixed on hers while his hands kept rubbing her ankle and the bottom of her feet. Was she doing wrong in not wanting to remember his past story? Maybe, she thought. But she could not afford to lose this family-like, intimate moment with him. And then a sudden twist in her ankle.

“Aaaaa,” she closed her eyes tightly.

“Take a deep breath and open your eyes,” Maan said gently, his fingers firm yet careful as he adjusted her ankle.

Geet obeyed, slowly opening her eyes to meet his.

“Now, try twisting and turning it,” he instructed softly. “You shouldn’t feel any pain anymore.”

Geet shook her head for ‘No’. “Do you trust me?” he asked, looking directly into her eyes. She had no escape. She did not say a word but twisted her ankle as her answer. It was not hurting anymore.

Geet got up to walk around in the small room. A little distance from him may stabilize her brain. Maan again continued to shift the wooden logs so that the heat does not go down.

Geet walked and stood near the window. She stood still, watching the snowfall. She was still, but her thoughts were not.

This moment and every moment with Maan weighed more than his past. His care, his touches, his closeness, him, and his every act claim how special she is to him. He would not have told her his story, but he did. Does that not show he cares about their relationship? And the past, which he himself says does not mean anything to him, that girl doesn’t mean anything to him. Then why is she feeling insecure? Maan can never lie; she knows that for sure. And he is claiming that she means so much to him; he does not even want the two to be compared. Does that not say a lot? And above all, this moment with Maan is so special. Why should she ruin these beautiful moments with him for the sake of something that just happened in his past?

All the things that Maan always does that make her feel special, how can she ignore them, forget all his effort? No, this is her new life and she loves Maan. She cannot let anything come in between her new phase of life, especially when she is lucky enough to get such a wonderful partner.

She wanted to let her guards off because she knew Maan was there to take care of her and all her worries, even this worry.

Geet was lost in her thoughts when she felt his warmth as he stood behind her, pressing his chest against her back. Geet bit her lips and closed her eyes, sinking the feel. Maan wrapped his hands around her lower abdomen and pulled her closer. Geet threw her head back, loosening her guard and giving him access to her.

Maan leaned closer until his cheek brushed against hers, his rough skin grazing her softness, sending shivers through her. Geet turned her face slightly away, though it only drew him nearer. His breath lingered near her neck, warm breath fanning on her cold skin. Unsettling her, stealing the air from her lungs.

Her fingers curled tightly around the edge of his shirt as his touch deepened—not bold, but steady, protective, and impossibly tender. Every heartbeat between them seemed to echo the same truth—neither could fight the pull anymore.

Maan had his one hand resting on her abdomen while the other moved up to her chest. His fingers played with the top-most button while his face rubbed against her softness. And as Maan clicked open the button, shyness took over Geet, and she moved to the bed, trying to catch her uneven breath and heartbeat.

Before Geet could steady herself, Maan came closer, the space between them dissolving. Their heart, desires, and pull towards each other were beyond their control. He lifted his hand to her cheek, urging her to meet his eyes. She lowered her gaze, her silence saying more than words ever could. Maan gently cupped her face, his thumb tracing just below her lips, asking her permission. Geet opened her lips, and that was it. Maan pressed her lips on hers and pushed his tongue inside her mouth, pulling her to him for a deep, intense kiss, sucking all her breath. It was an unspoken confession, a merging of all the longing they had held back for far too long.

Geet could vaguely recall the hazy memory of their drunken kiss, but this—this felt different. This was the one she wanted to remember as her first. She let go of everything, surrendering to the moment and the man she loved beyond reason.

Maan slowly lay her down and hovered above her. When he leaned closer, his breath brushed her skin, sending a tremor through her soul. His lips traveled down, placing soft kisses on her chin, to her neck, and further down. Geet let go of every single guard and surrendered herself to his mercy. Nothing in this world was above him and this moment for her. Maan moved down further, his hand going inside her shirt, reaching her unguarded blossom, but he stopped.

Maan straightened himself, creating distance, taking away the warmth from Geet. Geet got up, looked at him – still lost in their closeness.

“Do I still need to explicitly say what you mean to me. Yeh sab jo hua humare beech, yeh sab baimani lagta hai tumhe”

Geet was lost in the whole moment and could not register his question. She was blankly looking at Maan – “Why did he stop?” her own question crowding her mind

“Fine. You think those words spoken with no deep meaning weigh more than what conspired between us.” Geet was still lost and looking at him, confusing Maan further.

“Geet, there is no comparison between how I feel for you and what I had in the past. That was shallow; this is deep. But those words matter more to you. So here you go.”

With Geet still lost in him and looking at him, Maan understood that she was waiting for him to say those words, explicitly

“I love you. I love you from the bottom of my heart, Geet,” and that brought her back from trance.

“What?” she thought in disbelief. He actually said it—the words she had longed to hear.
Damn, where had she been lost when he confessed

“Kya bola aapne?” Geet asked, wanting to hear those words once more, this time when she was fully in her senses.

“I know you don’t believe me. Itna kuch humare beech hone ke baad bhi, you still think that I am just confessing for the sake of it. But I won’t force you to accept. One day you will know how special you are”

Geet smiled in her heart. Ohh, this is all so beautiful. She is never going to regret this day, but cherish it.

“Good night, I am going to sleep,” she said, keeping a straight face, not letting him know how badly she already has melted and how her heart is smiling.