MEERA POV
I woke up slowly, half-dreaming, half-aware, with the strange feeling that I was sleeping against something… hard. Warm. Steady.
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I write the kind of romance that simmers.
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25. Saransh on the Hot Seat
Whispers After Class
"You know this is wrong." "Then stop looking at me like you want me to ruin you." I wrote a story about wanting him--about tangled sheets, locked doors, and a mouth that ruined me in the best way. He returned it with red ink and a warning: "Be careful. This fantasy is dangerous." But fantasies don't burn like this. They don’t watch me like I’m already undressed. And they sure as hell don’t whisper my name like it’s a sin and a prayer in the same breath.
midnightwhispers_
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