................ enjoyyyyyyyyy.....your reading......

.............

The private yacht was a masterpiece of teak and chrome, cutting a silent path through the liquid gold of the Indian Ocean as the sun began its final descent. Shivank sat on the plush aft deck lounge, looking every bit the billionaire on holiday in a crisp navy polo, his arm draped casually behind Aanvi.

Aanvi, however, was currently leaning against the railing, giggling at a seagull. She had finished exactly one glass of vintage champagne—which, for her "baby nature," was apparently the equivalent of five shots of espresso mixed with truth serum.

"Shivank-ji," she said, turning around with a dreamy, lopsided smile. Her cheeks were flushed pinker than the sunset. "Do you know... do you know why I really tripped in the library that first day?"

Shivank raised an eyebrow, his expression one of lazy, amused affection. "I assumed it was because you and gravity have a long-standing feud, Aanvi."

"No!" She wiggled a finger at him, stumbling slightly as the boat rocked. Shivank’s hand shot out instantly, his fingers hooking into her waist to steady her. She didn't move away; she melted into his side. "It was because you were wearing that grey suit. The one that makes you look like a very handsome, very grumpy shark. I forgot how to use my legs."

Shivank choked on his own drink, a rare, genuine laugh breaking through his "Strict CEO" mask. "So, you’re saying my wardrobe is a safety hazard?"

"Extremely," she whispered loudly, leaning in close to his ear. Her breath smelled like strawberries and bubbles. "And... and another thing. I once used your fancy fountain pen—the gold one—to draw a mustache on a picture of you in the business magazine. But I felt bad, so I tried to lick it off, and I just ended up with a blue tongue for two days."

Shivank stared at her, his heart doing that strange, uncomfortable somersault it only did for her. He pulled her onto his lap, his large hands settling possessively on her hips. "You licked my face in a magazine? You really are a disaster, aren't you?"

"Your favorite disaster," she corrected, her head falling onto his shoulder. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glassy with a mix of intoxication and pure, raw adoration. "You’re so warm, Shivank-ji. Like a big, expensive radiator. I’m so glad the contract was with you and not some boring guy who doesn't smell like sandalwood."

Shivank’s gaze darkened, his thumb tracing the line of her lower lip. The playfulness of the moment shifted instantly into that "hard" intensity that always simmered just beneath his surface.

"If the contract had been with anyone else," he murmured, his voice dropping to a dangerous, gravelly register, "I would have burned the city down to get to you. Don't ever think otherwise."

Aanvi’s breath hitched. Even in her tipsy state, she felt the sheer weight of his possession. She reached up, her fingers clumsily tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

"The ocean is so big," she whispered, looking out at the dark water as the stars began to pop out. "Doesn't it make you feel small?"

"No," Shivank said, his eyes fixed entirely on her, ignoring the vast horizon. "Because I have the only world I care about right here in my arms."

He leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that tasted of champagne and salt. It started soft, a response to her vulnerability, but as she hummed into his mouth and pressed closer, his "Strict" side flared up. He deepened the kiss, his tongue claiming hers with a dominance that made the yacht’s gentle rocking feel like a storm.

"I think," Shivank whispered against her mouth, his hands sliding up to frame her face, "it's time to take you back to the villa. You’re far too honest when you’re drunk, and I’m far too impatient to keep listening to stories when I could be doing... other things."

Aanvi giggled, her arms locking around his neck. "Is the mountain going to carry me again?"

"The mountain," Shivank growled, standing up effortlessly with her in his arms, "is going to make sure you remember this night much more clearly than the champagne will let you."

The speedboat ride back felt like a countdown. By the time Shivank stepped onto the wooden jetty of their villa, carrying a sleepy but mischievous Aanvi, the air was crackling. He set her down inside the suite, the moonlight reflecting off the glass floors and dancing on the silk sheets.

Aanvi, still riding the high of the champagne and the raw heat in Shivank's eyes, didn't retreat to her usual "clumsy" shyness. Instead, as Shivank turned to close the heavy mahogany doors, she reached out and caught the hem of his navy polo.

"Shivank-ji," she whispered, her voice surprisingly steady.

He turned, his expression guarded, his "Strict CEO" walls held up by a single, straining thread. "Aanvi, I told you to go get some water. You’re tipsy."

"I’m not that tipsy," she countered. She stepped into his personal space, her hands sliding up his chest, feeling the frantic, heavy thud of his heart through the fabric. She stood on her tiptoes, her lips inches from his. "And I don't want water. I want the mountain to stop holding back."

She reached for the buttons of his shirt, her fingers fumbling slightly—her signature clumsiness—but the intent was clear. She gave a small, frustrated huff and just tugged at the fabric, looking up at him with a challenge in her eyes.

That was it. The final thread snapped.

Shivank let out a low, predatory growl, his hands catching her waist and lifting her off her feet until she was pinned against the door. The sound of her back hitting the wood was muffled by the roar of his kiss—hard, deep, and absolutely uncompromising.

"You have no idea," he rasped against her lips, his voice thick with a hunger that had been building since she first walked out in that black swimsuit, "what you’ve just started."

He didn't move to the bed. He couldn't. His hands were everywhere—mapping the curves of her waist, the silk of her legs, his touch bruisingly possessive. He was no longer the calculated businessman; he was a man reclaimed by his most primal instincts.

He bit her lower lip softly, a silent demand, before trailing a path of fire down her neck. Aanvi’s head fell back, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her breath coming in ragged, broken gasps.

"Shivank... please," she whimpered, her "baby nature" completely consumed by the intensity of him.

Shivank pulled back for a fraction of a second, his eyes jet-black and burning. "I told you, Aanvi. Once I stop being a gentleman, there is no going back. You’re mine. Every inch, every breath."

He swept her up and moved to the bed, the movement fluid and powerful. He came down over her, his weight a heavy, grounding comfort, his hands pinning hers into the pillows. The intimacy was "hard"—a fierce, beautiful collision of two people who had spent too long pretending they didn't belong to one another.

In the dark of the villa, with the Indian Ocean roaring beneath them, Shivank made good on every "corporate guarantee" he had ever whispered. He didn't just love her; he devoured her, making sure that by the time the sun rose, she wouldn't just be his wife—she would be his soul.

Next Morning........

The sun was blindingly bright outside, but the heavy blackout curtains of the villa kept the room in a state of perpetual, warm twilight. The air was thick with the scent of expensive sandalwood and the lingering heat of a night that had seen the "Strict CEO" lose every ounce of his fabled composure.

Aanvi woke up feeling like she had been wrapped in a heated weighted blanket. Shivank’s heavy arm was draped like a lead bar across her waist, his fingers curled possessively into the silk of the sheets. Her "baby nature" was currently warring with a very loud, very insistent stomach growl.

"Shivank-ji," she whispered, her voice sounding like it had been dragged through gravel. "I’m hungry. I can hear the breakfast trolley outside the door."

She tried to wiggle out from under his arm, but the moment she moved, the "blanket" tightened. Shivank didn't even open his eyes; he simply hauled her back against his chest with a strength that reminded her exactly how much power he had been holding back.

"The trolley can wait," he mumbled, his voice a deep, sleep-ruffled growl against the nape of her neck.

"But I want the pancakes! The ones with the coconut syrup!" Aanvi protested, pouting as she tried to pry his fingers off her hip. "You can't just keep me hostage because you're a morning person now."

Shivank finally opened one eye—dark, hooded, and still shimmering with the predatory satisfaction of the night before. He shifted, propping himself up on an elbow and looming over her, his bare chest a wall of solid muscle that blocked out the rest of the world.

"Hostage?" he repeated, a slow, dangerous smirk spreading across his face. "I prefer to think of it as a long-term investment. And as for your hunger..."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive shell of her ear, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps down her arms. "I think I’m the only thing you need to focus on today. You’ve had enough sugar. You need more of me."

"That’s... that’s not how nutrition works, Shivank-ji!" she squeaked, her face turning a vivid shade of crimson.

"In my world, it is," he murmured, his hand sliding up from her waist to frame her face, his thumb grazing her lower lip. The "Strict CEO" was gone, replaced by a man who was shamelessly, hungrily in love. "I spent thirty years being efficient, Aanvi. But with you? I want to be wasteful. I want to waste the whole day right here. No pancakes. No beach. Just this."

He kissed her then—not the polite kiss of a husband going to work, but a deep, lingering claim that tasted of possession and a promise of round two.

Aanvi’s stomach gave one final, defeated growl before she surrendered, her hands finding the back of his neck and pulling him down. The pancakes were forgotten. The mountain had decided he wasn't done with his "ascent," and Aanvi realized that being a "hostage" in the Maldives was actually the best job she’d ever had.

...............................

By the time they finally emerged from their "hostage situation" in the villa, the afternoon sun was shimmering over the water. Shivank looked refreshed and dangerously handsome in casual , while Aanvi was wearing a wide-brimmed hat and an oversized white button-down of Shivank’s over her white short dress —partly for style, mostly to hide the "stray marks" the mountain had left behind.

......

Continue..............

Like comment and follow for next chapter.......