Page 33

“Are you…filming me?”

I swallowed heavily. “No, no. Um…”

He turned and rested his ass against the backs of his heels, a white T-shirt in one hand. His head tilted to the side as he observed me, and while I knew I should put my camera away, I didn’t.

“Oh.” His tone told me he understood what was happening. “Can you see like that?”

With a trembling breath, I nodded, my gaze fixed on his face. I expected him to be offended or confused. Maybe a little weirded out.

He didn’t look like any of those things.

“And you like watching me? You just said I look good, right?”

“I can’t possibly be alone in thinking you look good. You’re fucking gorgeous, and you must know that,” I rasped. I started to lower my phone, but he leaned forward with a hand out.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

He sat back, then carefully tossed the shirt my way. I didn’t catch it, but I felt it land beside my free hand. “I mean, it’s only fair, right? You can see all of me on that screen, which is exactly what you would have seen if you weren’t…”

He was one of those people who fumbled over that word. I let the moment linger before feeding it to him. “Blind. Unless you want to argue that I’m not?”

“No. I was a dick for that, and I am sorry. Like, truly sorry.”

I believed him. It was in his eyes and in the tone of his voice. Most people apologized to save face, but not him. At least, not this time.

“I forgive you.”

Both of his brows lifted, and then his mouth stretched into a smile. His teeth were white, not quite straight—his eyeteeth were slightly crooked and poked out a little over his lower lip. And suddenly, he was even more beautiful than before.

I let out another shaking breath as he lifted up. My camera followed him until he was too close, and only his torso filled up the screen.

“Let me help you change,” he murmured. His hand skimmed down my arm, then plucked the phone from my fingers and set it to the side. I heard it hit the seat with a thud before he tugged, and without warning, I was rising to my feet.

“What,” I started as his fingers went for the hem of my shirt.

“You can’t keep wearing this. You’re a mess.”

I didn’t need to guess if he was flirting. I didn’t need to try to figure out if I was reading the situation wrong or not. He was busy making it very, very obvious.

Aravind’s fingers skimmed my stomach as he collected the shirt, bunching it in his fist so he could drag it over my head without making a mess all over my skin. I let out a heavy breath as the fabric peeled away from my arms, and the air in the room suddenly felt very cold.

“Mm,” Aravind murmured. “Gorgeous.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I felt a sudden urge to hide. I couldn’t help being a little self-conscious under the gaze of a man as good-looking as he was. I felt like a big, clumsy lump of flesh, and there was no way he found that attractive.

“You’re hiding from me?” he asked.

“I…” My words died off as he took my wrists and gently pulled my hands down. “Um.”

“Can I look at you?”

Swallowing heavily, I nodded. “I guess it’s only fair. You let me look at you.”

He made a soft humming noise as he sat back, and he was close enough to me that I could see both of his dark, wandering eyes. They moved slowly, taking in every inch of my exposed skin.

“Scar.” His fingers touched the side of my hip.