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‘Just tired. And my arms ache a bit.’ She sighed and started untangling the pins.

‘Let me?’ He was warm at her back, his fingers far gentler than hers had been as he slid out one of the pins.

‘You don’t have to do this.’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘Thank you.’ She watched him for a few moments before asking, ‘Are you going to tell me where you learned to dance like that?’

‘There might have been a semi-regular ball I’ve attended in the past. And a girl I wanted to impress.’

‘Did it work?’

‘Thankfully not.’

‘Thankfully?’

‘If it had, I might not be here with you.’ He squeezed her shoulder, then went back to her hair. Not speaking, just concentrating on untangling her tresses while she leaned back against him and watched him in the mirror. Every so often his eyes would catch hers, and he smiled, fingers stilling in that shared moment of calm, quiet intimacy.

After the wonderful, chaotic noise of the wedding and her family and never-ending music and dancing, Amrita delighted in the easy, gentle rhythm between them. No glitter, spectacle or audience, just the soft press of his fingers against her scalp as he let her hair down – quietly taking on the task that annoyed her with ease and patience, even though he must be at least as tired as she was.

But he didn’t rush – instead he let each lock of hair slide gently through his fingers as he smoothed it out, and Amrita was reminded of her dancing, chirruping sparrows preening one another. She’d been right – it did feel wonderful to be cared for like this. Every so often, Jamie brushed a stray few strands behind her ear, and Amrita shivered slightly – not from the cold, but from the tenderness of the gesture and the way his touch seemed to say so much more than simple words.

Every touch sparked a moment of sensation that built and was layered into the next one, spreading warmth throughout her.

For a few moments, they created a new world there, in between the chaos and the noise, and they existed calmly in the space: the soft rhythm of fingers moving gently through hair, the peaceful weight of closeness, and the silent understanding that they’d survived the chaos together – passing an unspoken test. And in that aftermath, they could simply be.

His hands dropped to her shoulders when he was done, and he smiled at her in the mirror. The weight of his hands was scorching on her skin, and she could feel her heart beating almost as fast as it had been when they were dancing.

‘Thank you for inviting me to this. For making me feel like part of your family.’

‘Thank you for coming.’ She rested her hand on one of his, hoping he was feeling the same. ‘You’ve been amazing.’ She reached up to hook her hand around the back of his neck and pull him down to where she could lean her head back and kiss him.

He hesitated then kissed her back, tentatively at first, then deepening to leave her breathless. It was hungry, demanding and utterly decadent. And over too soon.

She whimpered when he pulled away, and tugged him back to her, leaning back as he leaned down, his other hand sliding under her chin and up her cheek to anchor her to him as he kissed her again – deeply and passionately. Heat and light sparked between them as the world broke and remade itself around her – reshaping to include him, to focus on him and the physical touch, taste, heat and scent of him as he kissed her again and again. Lips caressing, breathing shared, and tiny shivers starting wherever they touched and quivering through her as the intensity built.

He held her so tightly – like he never wanted to let her go – and she felt the same, tugging him closer again. He followed happily, instinctively matching her movement, a shared rhythm of breaths, heartbeats and kisses forming without words.

When finally – still too soon – he pulled back, she failed to completely bite back the whimper his absence caused. He smiled at the sound and stroked a soft caress against her skin. She tried to pull him back, but he resisted and stepped away.

She spun on the stool to face him.

He blew out a deep breath – dragged his hands through his hair.

‘Did I upset you?’

‘No.’ He sighed again. ‘You’re incredible, Amrita. And that…’ His jaw clenched. ‘Wow. But that’s the problem. If I don’t stop now, I’m not sure I’d trust myself around you.’

His words sent a thrill through her.

‘What if I don’t want you to stop?’ She stood, pressed herself against him, winding her arms around his neck. ‘What if I want to keep kissing?’ She brushed another kiss against his lips. ‘And keep stroking?’ She ran her fingers over his cheek and lightly down his neck, smiling as he gulped. ‘What if I want even more than that?’

‘Amrita’ – he caught her shoulders, hands scorching against her skin – ‘I thought you said you were tired.’

‘I was. Now I’m not.’ She hesitated, then pulled back to look at him better. ‘Unless you don’t want this?’ Doubt crept in, forcing her back another step.

He caught her hands. ‘Amrita, I do. I really do. But you’ve been drinking, and I promised I wouldn’t push you. I really was serious about that. I wouldn’t ever want to take advantage of you, or have you regret anything between us.’