“Oh?” Her lips pursed, naked of any lipstick. “Do tell what you think I was trying to accomplish.”
“No need to get all fiery. A brownstone is a statement home. It’s commonly associated with old money, with class and distinction. A penthouse is for the artists and the new-money types. To establish a business in a man’s world, you needed distinction, not artistry. My father did the heavy lifting for my family. Created a compound in New Jersey. That’s why I could do whatever the hell I wanted. No one cares where I live or what that says about me. Not yet, anyway.”
“That’s remarkably . . . astute,” Raj said. She put her wineglass down on the counter, then walked over to the kitchen sink to wash her hands. “Is there anything I can do? Please say no, since I’m a terrible cook.”
“No.” Ajay grinned. “It’s almost ready. Not into cooking?”
“No. I brought over my family housekeeper. He does everything for me, including keeping me fed. I’d think you’d have someone like that, too.”
“I prefer things this way.” He dipped a spoon in the masala sauce, blew on it, then held it out for Raj to taste. “Tell me what you think.”
Ajay slipped the spoon between her plump, naked lips. Her eyes drifted closed in pleasure. “Mmm,” she moaned. The throaty sound had his dick hardening painfully in a second.
“You made it spicy,” she said.
“Too hot?” His voice turned gruff, but he didn’t care.
“No. It’s perfect. Ajay, you are full of surprises.”
Her tongue wet her top lip in a slow, sweeping motion.
His control snapped. He tossed the spoon he was holding into the sink with a resounding clatter and, without a word of warning, yanked her to him and pressed his mouth against hers.
She tasted delicious. Spicy and sweet. Rich and sharp from the wine. Her mouth was pliant and soft under his as he bowed over her, desperate to consume that first taste. She opened under him, her tongue meeting his even as her fingers dove into his hair and his arms wrapped around her waist. Ajay took, tasting her, drowning, desperate for more.
When she slanted her mouth against his, pressing impossibly closer, he growled and lifted her inches off the ground so his erection could nestle at the juncture of her thighs.
They moaned in unison from the delicious feel of fitting together, before Raj pulled back.
“I said I wouldn’t sleep with you,” she whispered, out of breath and sounding desperate. Her eyes dropped to his mouth and she kissed him. Once. Twice. Again, with a hint of teeth.
“I haven’t asked you to.”
“Then you should probably let me go.”
Slowly, knowing that he was torturing them both, he let her slide down the length of his body until she was on her feet again.
She stepped back, adjusted her dress, and straightened her ponytail. “Really, Ajay?” She sounded shaky, just like he felt. “You feed me, and that’s all it takes?”
“It was the sex noises, actually,” he said as he pulled the naan out of the oven and rested the tray on the cooling rack. “Next time you do that, I’ll be throwing you over my shoulder and showing you my bedroom.”
“Promises, promises,” she said.
He gripped her waist and, unable to help himself, pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck before he gently moved her to the side so he could get plates and bowls from a cabinet. “Better keep your distance, woman. Okay to eat with your hands?”
“I won’t even answer that insulting question.”
“Hands it is.”
They washed up, and as Ajay brought the food to the table in front of his windows, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction as she kept a wide berth. He was still burning for her, but it was nice to know that her cool demeanor was hiding the same fire.
He topped off their glasses and, with his phone, dimmed the lights so New York could shine. “Now. Tell me what happened today.”
Raj froze, a torn wedge of naan hovering over her chicken. “That’s not your—”
“Stop right there. Before you get defensive, I’m not asking you because you’re obligated to share, because we want each other, but because I want to listen. Maybe that’ll help.”
Ajay watched her as she scooped up chicken and took a bite. Her eyes drifted closed. “This is really good, Ajay. My compliments to the chef.”
“Thank you.”
He dug into his food, as well, and for a few minutes they ate in silence.
“My mother is dying.”
The words cut through the air like his chef’s knife. “Oh, baby.”
“I-I’m sad,” she said in Punjabi, then switched back to English, as if she realized her slip. “I know logically I’m sad, but I haven’t spoken to my mother since I married Robert. My brother, he’s the one who told me, ensured that the whole family was cut off from me. I’ve accepted that.”
“Why did your brother cut you off? Because you married a white guy?” He could understand some very traditional Punjabi families with status doing the same thing. Hell, his extended family had cut off his cousin Bhram for being gay.
Ajay saw her hesitation as she sipped her wine. “I’m not going to tell anyone, Raj,” he assured her. “This is off the record.”
“It’s not that. It’s just that I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone other than Mina and Robert.”
“Told anyone what?”
“My father owns thousands of acres of poppy fields. My family has an . . . operation.”
“Poppy fields? Poppy . . . You’re talking opium.” His stomach twisted. Shit. His uncle had gotten in trouble with the mob because of his drug habit. He would have to call Sri later to find out what Raj’s connections were with organized crime, and if she was connected in any way to the group that had harmed his family. “Does your father still do opium?”
“My brother has taken over, but from what I understand, it’s mostly legal now. They’re a supplier for pharma companies.”
Well, thank the gods, Ajay thought to himself. He wasn’t a fool. He knew the reason it mattered so much was because he wanted her, and her connections to his family were already complicated enough. “I’m assuming it wasn’t always legal, though.”
Raj took a bite and chewed before answering. “This is incredible, Ajay. You’ve surprised me.”
“Thank you, but you’re changing the subject.”
She laughed, and her ponytail slid over her shoulder. She looked so young now. It was a layer of Raj’s personality that Ajay ached to see, and now that he’d witnessed the vulnerability, he wanted to do everything he could to help her. To protect her.
She’d probably knee him if he ever admitted that. Instead, he topped off their wine and waited for her to finish.
“Growing up, things were . . . dark in my home, even if they kept the drugs and guns out of sight from me and my mother. All I was expected to do was finish my twelfth standard and then get married. My parents had been so controlling my whole life. I had security at all times. Going to school, coming home from school, even at weddings we attended. My only escape was books, and I studied hard. I wanted freedom. I never wanted to be at the mercy of someone else’s checkbook.”