|| 12. PAIZE 4 ♥ ||
Feeding her another halved bite, Omar partially shrugged “We’ll figure it out, later. Mainly you need to get better soon”
The possibility of getting well to see him reject her entirely did not appear as welcoming a thought to her turbulent heart as he made it appear. Succumbing to another shiver, Mohana consideringly pondered on the most relevant question “Then you’ll get mako’n chako?”
On another forkful, Omar confirmed “We’ll discuss and try it together”
“Ok. Together” her lips formed a displeased pout, not syncing on any of his ideas of discussions, waiting and recovering at all. But for consolation that he had offered to eat together, she munched on the chicken salad bite while another deep shuddering jolt shook her from within.
Regardless of her shyness, emphatically craving to belong in his hold, she felt utterly antsy for the distance he maintained between them. Eating bites of her favorite foods, she distractedly glanced at the collection of halves he had portioned from the sweet and savory offerings. His eyes remained pitch dark, without the fanciful luster she longed to see, instead mirroring how Polo’s eyes appeared every night before she dozed off.
Grasping onto the solace of his presence, his care in feeding her, his velvety rich voice talking to her, her heart kept luring for the protective embrace and hoping for more of his caresses which never seemed to come, while their separation held strong through the various things he wanted them to discuss.
Partially having gone through the bowl of mangos and berries, Omar offered her a silver dollop dish with three small shimmery balls. After much convincing, giving into the distressing shivers, Mohana agreed to trying one out of the three pearls of medication: Homela
In sometime, between bites of food and discussing textiles, Omar attempted to convince her for another shiny ball of medicine. Discreetly slipping a mango chunk from the fork he held, Mohana outrightly refused the second dose, deliriously establishing her rationale “My head is going round and round. My heart is going round and round. And they round and round want yooh”
Not giving in, Omar contested “Last I gathered from you, flattery wasn’t going to help and am an attorney first, then a designer, so you are having this”
“I am also an attorney first, then journalist and. so. I have decided. I am not having this” Mohana claimed righteously full of self conviction, determined to convince him against the unfavorable medication.
Unsteadily pulling another mango cube, her fingers this time brushed against his, when moving the fork beyond her reach Omar broke the warm magnetic pull “M’anam, you are yet to graduate, we’ll have mangos after this pearl”
Loosing his touch, yet again, after the series of his rebuffs, holding back a sob she stared at her palm. Fighting feelings of his derision, she landed her objection in a small quiver “I can’t keep waiting to become an attorney to do everything”
“That’s exactly what we are going to do” wiping her hand clean with a towelette, Omar fed her the shiny ball from the spoon. On a sulky pout, awry breathing, her heart shriveling within, Mohana surrendered to his command, gulping the second dosage: Offeapa
Almost instantly the mere swallow of the medication had all color drain from her face. Blinking back tears she looked at her palm again reminiscing the touch she had felt
“Your hand is clean, mo chroí..” Omar murmured holding the fork for her but seeing her visibly shudder, nearly at the verge of crumpling, he dropped the silverware in the bowl concernedly moving closer. Cupping her face he frantically checked “What’s wrong?”
“Noth..ing” attempting to ease from his hold yet powerless Mohana turned her face away, trying to trace a chunky chord of the knitted yarn through its loops, but the shivering spasms inhibited any concentration.
Capturing hold of her violently jittering hand, he ran fingers along her nape, soothing her freezing cold skin but his caresses agitatedly halted at the golden french knot “Look at me”
“Noh” on her defiant response Omar had her scooped in his arms and lifted from the couch to land on his lap. Demandingly holding her shivering hand on his heart, he tipped her chin to make their eyes meet, murmuring the contradiction “Yes”
Glancing at her reddened eyes, feeling her body shudder intensely, his grip around her concernedly firmed. Frantically smoothing his thumb along her nape he coaxed “Mo shíorghrá, I can’t have you shivering like this, we need to eat that last pearl and recover soon”
“Noh” declaring her stand firmly, Mohana unabashedly fell on his chest. Setting the pink throw, draping it to cover the ivory expanse of her curvy back, Omar embraced her numbingly cold body, much to her relief, making her heart surface from the freezing darkness to pick a contented beat
For the last round with the remaining pearl of Vepaz, no amount of convincing, reasoning or bribes seemed to work in Omar’s favor. Wrapped in his hold, Mohana desperately appealed “Noh. I don’t like doctors! I don’t like meds! This one is really really bad!”
“But this one is going to keep you the most warm” Omar offered attempting to coax her, his hands stroking her silken head, halting hesitantly around her french knot every time
“Noh! You will keep me warm! You have to be possessive!” declaring in a muffle against his chest, Mohana refused to even give the last shimmering ball another glance
Finally giving in to her aversion, siding with the delicate woman brutally shuddering in his hold, Omar murmured an assurance “Alright, we won’t have it. Let’s get changed”
Lightly pulling from him, Mohana stared at his chest, the black tshirt stretched along his strength contesting back with equal fervor. Unable to fathom all the difficulties she was encountering in her own dream, Mohana asked in a whisper “How? Without buttons?!”
Following her gaze Omar looked at the tshirt between them, then glanced at her innocent face “You, have to get changed”
“Noh, I am.. but you are the cover model for December” she reported, stumbling upon some semblance despite the conflicting fuzziness in her head which continued to make her apprehensive
“Mo stór, we had the shoot earlier..” Mohana listened to him clarify the timelines, share occurrences of events but the sole segue of his presence on the cover of Sophista, had her restlessly shift in his arms “..now we are heading back”
“Home?” she doubtfully asked, her huge eyes staring at him wishing to soak all she could of his handsome features while trying to iron out the hodgepodge of days and events
“Home” Omar confirmed. Lifting her in his arms, he stepped her through the room “What do you feel like wearing?”
“This. Warm?” declaring resolutely, she precariously pointed her finger to his muscular chest wanting to get wrapped in his protective warmth
Not completely falling in sync with her demands, Omar dissuaded “This is not something for the bed, it has been out there with all the dust and travel..”
“But I want it” she declared in a tiny voice and on a humph hid her face on his chest, putting an end to the discussion
Tracing his steps back he walked them inside a large closet which mimicked a small room in itself. Settling Mohana delicately on the sofa, Omar reached for a fresh black tshirt from the shelf “There needs to be a middle ground to it”
“Noh! I want this” she determinedly pointed to Omar, amply clear of her craving, her authoritative heart having taken full charge, wanted her to be embraced in those strong arms, held against his strength and shielded against all perils
“I don’t stand a chance at disagreeing, but I am going to get you a cleaner one” saying Omar took off his tshirt
Dreamily looking at his glorious torso uncover, smiling in awe she skid on the sofa, flopping sideways on the cushions. Only slightly shy of popping out, her huge eyes roved admirably over his muscular chest, her lips parting in awe as she gazed at each carved muscle, traveling through his abdomen to reach his v muscles and still inching lower until finding the band of his jeans. Ignoring a frosty shiver escaping her, Mohana carefully verbalized her fascination with the man of her dreams “Hot. Very hot!”
Balancing to straighten her, Omar cupped her face, his voice dripping with concern “The meds are too hot?”
“Noh..” she frowned at the question, then realizing his proximity, she gulped on her drool to shyly clarify her earlier declaration “..You. That. Tshirt”
“It’s yours, after we get you out of your dress” discarding the used tshirt on the couch, Omar threw on the fresh one to cover his sculpted chest again
Delighted at the masculine splendor that had come so close to her, yet upset at the layers of new fabric between them, Mohana heaved a longing sigh. This dream of hers, had its own way of continually getting better yet impossibly bouncing beyond her reach. She wondered aloud enquiring her stakes on his tshirts “All of them?”
“All of them” confirming Omar lifted her in his arms. Conveniently overlooking the actuality of nervousness, her heart boomed in happiness, strategically ecstatic on the ownership of his tshirts which from her calculation instantly alluded to endless access of his heavenly carved torso.
Heaving a thoughtful sigh she determinedly concluded to herself, she now only had his jacket left to steal. Much in conflict to the bravery of her soaring desirous thoughts, she moved in his arms, his touch along her bare midriff making her butterflies rapidly flutter.
Settling her atop the vanity counter, Omar glanced at the stretch of the rich colorful fabric wrapped around her slim waist, consideringly checking “You know how to wear a saree?”
