IZEL'S POV

I could almost hear my subconscious jumping in with its usual sass. (Izel, tu book kab padh liya kar, dirty-minded aurat!) [(Izel, when do you even read books, dirty-minded woman!)] I tried to suppress the giggle that bubbled up, but failed miserably.

His words tickled, both literally and figuratively. (Stop it, Izel, control yourself,) I mentally scolded, but it was no use. The warmth of his breath against my ear and the teasing lilt in his voice were too much.

I could feel the heat rushing to my cheeks, and I tried to brush off the mocking voice in my head. My subconscious wasn't letting this slide easily. (thoda chill kar. Punishment ka dusra matlab bhi hota hai!) [(Chill out a bit. Punishment has another meaning too!)]

But it was no use. The smile tugging at the corners of my lips and the soft flush on my face betrayed me.

We both sat down, brushes in hand, and started decorating. I was focused on adding delicate little designs floral patterns and our name intials. I had a feeling Irfaz was over there doing something entirely unexpected. I kept sneaking glances at him, watching as he carefully applied each stroke, his concentration making me smile. i took some pics of him secretly.

Once we were done, we let the cups dry.

As the cups dried, I eagerly led him to the next station to make bracelets. The colorful beads and strings were laid out invitingly, and I couldn't wait to dive in.

"Let's make matching ones!" I suggested, picking up a handful of vibrant beads.

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin on his face. "Matching, huh? Are you trying to make a statement?"

"Of course! We can be the stylish duo," I replied, rolling my eyes playfully.

I began stringing the beads together, carefully selecting colors that complemented each other. Irfaz watched me for a moment before joining in, his fingers deftly picking up beads.

"Just don't blame me if mine ends up looking better," he said, glancing at my work with mock seriousness.

I laughed, the sound light and carefree. "As if! I'll make sure mine outshines from yours."

We worked side by side, the playful banter flowing effortlessly between us. Every now and then, I would steal glances at him, enjoying the way his focus turned into a gentle smile when he looked at the beads.

"I think we should add a charm," I said, spotting a small heart charm nearby. "What do you think?"

he replied, nodding. "A little love for our friendship."

I felt a flutter at his words, warmth spreading in my chest.

"Perfect! Just don't mess it up," I teased.

He smirked, the mischief returning to his eyes. "I'll do my best, but remember, if it turns out bad, I'm blaming you."

"Deal!" I shot back, my laughter mingling with his as we continued crafting our bracelets, creating memories one bead at a time.

As I carefully strung the final beads into place, a surge of satisfaction washed over me. Once I finished, I held it up for him to see.

"What do you think?" I asked, excitement bubbling in my voice.

"That's clever, Biwi! ["wife!"] You made a brooch pin!" he exclaimed, a proud grin spreading across his face.

"Yeah, and I think you can wear the brooch pin, but not the bracelet," I teased, winking at him.

"Shukriya, Begum," ["Thank you, my queen,"] he replied, and my stomach flipped at the endearing title.

He crouched down in front of me, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Pin it up," he asked, his tone playful.

I laughed, carefully securing the brooch to his shirt. The moment felt intimate, and I could hardly believe how comfortable I was with him. As I stepped back, he held out the bracelet he made for me.

"Now it's your turn," he said, and I couldn't help but smile as I slid it onto my wrist.

"There! Perfect fit," he said, admiring my bracelet with a satisfied nod.

"Thanks for this," I replied, feeling a warmth spread through me. "It really means a lot."

"Anything for you, Jaan," ["my love,"] he said softly, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

After our fun with the bracelets, our cups were finally ready, and I could hardly contain my excitement. As the waiter handed them to us, I carefully unwrapped the cup he'd made for me and gasped.

It was adorned with simple yet thoughtful details tiny hearts sprinkled around, the word "Jaan" ["my love"] beautifully scrawled in Urdu, and a cute little sketch of a unicorn. My heart swelled with warmth at the sight.

"Irfaz, this is amazing!" I exclaimed, turning it over in my hands to admire every detail. "You really captured so much in just a cup!"

He grinned, a hint of pride in his eyes.

"I wanted it to be special, just like you."

I couldn't help but smile back, feeling a mix of gratitude and affection.

"You succeeded. It's perfect."

He reached for his own cup, "What do you think of mine?" he asked, his expression curious.

"It's so unique! It matches your personality," I teased, and he laughed, clearly pleased with my compliment. We shared a moment, both of us admiring our creations, and I realized how much I cherished this day. It was more than just a fun outing; it felt like a beautiful beginning.

As we finished up at the cafe, I felt a buzz of excitement as we headed out. Irfaz had already planned our dinner, and I couldn't wait to see where he was taking me.

When we arrived, he greeted me with the same gentlemanly charm, opening the door for me and closing it behind me as I stepped inside. I couldn't help but smile his thoughtful gestures reminded me of the romantic leads in my favorite books.

'His gentlemanly spirit reminded me of the characters from my favorite books. I never imagined I'd experience such treatment outside the pages of my delusional fantasies.'

He drove us to a hotel, and once again, he opened the door for me, doing all the gentlemanly gestures. But seriously, I'm done complimenting the same thing over and over. Uff, enough already!

As we walked in, he intertwined his fingers with mine, exuding this powerful aura that I rarely feel when I'm with him. The first time I sensed this was during our second meeting at my company. (Yes, that coffee-spilling incident from Chapter 1.)

The waiter led us to the upper penthouse, and as the elevator lifted us upward, I found myself lost in thought.

'Who even spends this much money for a single date? Is this guy crazy?

(jo bhi hein ab se tumhara hein sambhalo isko --- {my subconscious moceked me} ' [(whatever he is, he is yours now, handle him...)]

As we entered the penthouse, he gave the waiter clear instructions.

"Send the food I ordered, and don't disturb us again," he commanded.

Just as the waiter was about to leave, he called him back.

"Send a waitress—female waitress—to deliver the food." The waiter nodded in agreement.

"You can take off your abaya now," he said, making me blush as I nodded, thinking he asked for a female waitress just for me.

Ugh, my stomach felt like a whole zoo at that moment.

'Yaar, it's the small gestures that give you butterflies, isn't it? Honestly, the whole fancy penthouse dinner didn't make me as happy as when he specifically asked for a waitress so I could take off my abaya comfortably. That made me even happier, knowing he has no issues with me wearing a burkah, that he accepts me just the way I am. It's making me emotional, to be honest.'

I took off my burkah and carefully placed it on the sofa, making sure my niqab didn't fall.

When I looked back, there he was, standing behind me, his gaze burning into my back like he was trying to drill a hole through me with his intensity.

"If you keep staring like that, it won't take long before you actually burn a hole in my back," I said, half-joking, trying to lighten the intensity.

He looked embarrassed at my comment, his ears turning red and the blush creeping onto his cheeks. Damn, why is he so cute? He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, clearly trying to play it cool, but that only made him more adorable.

Stepping even closer, he said, "Well, can you blame me? You're standing there like that, tempting me to do exactly that."

I rolled my eyes, "Please, you act like I'm some kind of magnet for your attention."

"You are," he shot back, smirking. "And you know it."

I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow. "And here I thought we were here for dinner, not for you to perfect your death-stare technique."

He leaned in, voice dropping. "Dinner can wait. I'm enjoying the view."

"You're impossible, you know that?" I shot back, trying to keep my cool while my heart was ready to leap out of my chest.

"You always do that," he said in a low, almost whispered tone, stepping even closer, the space between us vanishing quickly.

"Do what?" I asked, my voice barely audible, heart racing in anticipation.

"Act like you don't know how much I want you," he murmured, his words sending a shiver down my spine. My breath hitched as he closed the distance, his fingers brushing against my arm, his touch light but electric.

"Do you really have no idea?" he asked, his eyes locking with mine, daring me to deny it, though I couldn't even if I tried.

"I..." I stammered, but the words disappeared before I could find them, his gaze holding me captive, making my thoughts blur into nothing.

He came even closer, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, "You're looking drop-dead gorgeous... just like MINE. Only MINE—to see, touch, worship."

A shiver ran down my spine at his words, and I felt a flush creep across my cheeks. The possessiveness in his tone sent my heart racing, igniting a fire within me that I hadn't expected. I tried to play it cool, but the way he looked at me made it impossible.

I read in my dark romance novels about how the male lead gets obsessed and does crazy things for the female lead. Uff, I should be scared by his words like "mine," "see," "touch," Am I psycho for getting turned on?

His breath lingering in my ear, his words wrapping around me.....Fuck, he can turn me on just with his words. It's insane how his voice sends shivers down my spine and ignites a fire within me. Every syllable he speaks wraps around my senses, leaving me breathless and wanting more. I shouldn't be feeling this way shouldn't let him have this kind of power over me but I can't help it.

(Izel, you pervert—my subconscious is nagging me again.)

I shook my head, trying to dispel the wild thoughts racing through my mind. Is it normal to react like this? Part of me wanted to feel embarrassed, but another part craved more of that intoxicating energy between us.

He placed his head on my shoulder, nuzzling into my neck.

"Don't worry, I won't do anything to you," he said softly, his voice calming my racing heart.

I ruffled his hair, feeling a mixture of warmth and affection.

"Irfaz," I whispered, my lips almost brushing against the tips of his ear.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, pulling away from my neck to lock his eyes with mine. His gaze felt more like a plea than just pure desire one I couldn't ignore. I nodded in response, but he shook his head gently.

"Words, Jaan," ["my love,"] he insisted, his tone both teasing and serious.

"Yes..." I managed to breathe out, but before I could finish my words, he closed the distance between us and pressed his lips against mine. The moment our lips met, a spark ignited, sending a rush of warmth through me. It was both soft and electrifying, and I felt every ounce of tension melt away as I lost myself in the kiss.

I closed my eyes, surrendering to the sensation. His lips were incredibly soft and delicate, and his mouth carried the refreshing scent of mint. I didn't know how to respond, so I let him take the lead, and he gently pulled on my lower lip, deepening the kiss.

"Open your mouth, Jaan," ["my love,"] he commanded, and like a good girl, I obeyed instantly.

He slipped his tongue into my mouth, teasing mine, and everything felt so good and sweet. A moan nearly escaped me as he tugged and sucked on my upper lip. He plunged his tongue deeper, pulling me onto his lap. I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers finding the nape of his neck, while he smiled between kisses.

He took his time, exploring every corner of my mouth, and I felt like all the butterflies had burst out in my stomach at once, sending a flurry of excitement racing through me. It was as if every flutter and rush had finally erupted, making my heart race even faster.

Eventually, we pulled apart, and heat flooded my face as I realized our position. I was straddling him, his one hand resting on my waist while the other cradled the back of my neck. I could feel my cheeks burning as I breathed heavily, the air thick with the lingering sweetness of our kiss.

{REB: kya kya likhwaoge mere se? dua krna tumhari author ki life ki 1st kiss bhi asi he ho bina experience ke kya kya likhna pdta h. Pura dimaag theoretically smut se bhard gya h na jane practical kab hoga} [What all will you make me write? Pray that your author's life's 1st kiss is also like this, what all has to be written without experience. The whole mind is filled theoretically with smut, who knows when practical will happen]