Spice and Smoke Read Online Free Page B

around to peer at them and ask, “ Sab tik tho hai , sahib? ” before he pulled into the hotel’s circular drive.
    “ Haan, haan. Everything’s fine,” Harsh assured, cheeks flushing. Michael had no doubt that he would go to the local mandir in the morning and ask to be purified with holy water for the breach of protocol.
    “We’re on a dangerous road, yaar .” He sighed. “A very, very dangerous road.”
    People assumed a great many things about Michael Gill. That beauty was all he had. That he kept model fit by doing drugs…or by doing models. That he was too English, or too Punjabi, or not enough of either one. The one thing that could never be said of him was that he was a fool. He knew, all too well, that if he and Harsh Mathur were to let Avinash Kumar and Trishna Chaudhury under their skin, even a dip in the Ganges wasn’t going to cleanse them of their sins.

Chapter Five
    In the days following the party, they were too busy blocking their lines and hitting their marks in the brutal midday sun to do much besides collapse into bed at night…sweaty, boneless heaps instead of pampered stars. Trishna had embraced the role with vigor, becoming Nishta, the reckless but loyal young maiden who was strangely drawn to a freedom fighter. Diva or no, Trishna was never caught unprepared. Never…except when she was removing the last traces of foundation from her skin after a long day of shooting and watching her husband’s reflection in the vanity.
    It had only been a few days, but already he looked a stranger. Angry, hollow-eyed, like the revolutionary he was pretending to be for the cameras. But what was his cause? Avi had told her after the muhurat that Michael rejected him—what passed for pillow talk for them would no doubt stun other couples—and his fury seemed twice that of a typical rejection. Not that there were many. Her Avinash was irresistible. Look how easily he’d reeled her in. But Michael Gill…whatever had happened between them… kuch alag tha . Something was different .
    “Are you okay?” she wondered as she unpinned her hair.
    “Fine.” He prowled across the bedroom like a tiger, shoulders rolling under his tight T-shirt. “I am not the one who was making eyes at Harsh Mathur all day long.”
    “That is the part , bewakoof !” she hissed, slamming down her hairbrush and rising to face him. “I am acting.”
    “But you do it so well , darling ,” he said, making the endearment mockingly sweet. “One would almost think you’ve been in love with him your whole life. Oh…wait… sai baat …you have .”
    “Don’t pretend to be jealous. I know you are not. Anyway, you don’t have the right.” Had she not given him everything these past seven years? Indulged his every whim, made reality his every fantasy? Protected him? What was a pale memory of a childhood crush in the face of that? Looking at Harsh, longing for him, was nothing compared to sharing Avinash with strangers. “You haven’t touched me since we began shooting,” she pointed out, the words coming out hard and sharp, like bits of betel nut. “Is your need for Michael Gill so great? Do I disgust you now ? Tum mujhse nafrat karthe ho kya? ”
    Avi closed the short distance between them, and his fingers bit into her shoulders through the thin satin of her nightgown. “What do you want from me?” he rasped, voice as rough as the path of his bearded cheek against her throat. He rubbed his jaw against hers, and the contact made her shiver. “This?”
    Heat blossomed low in her belly. Like she’d been pushed close to an artificial fireplace. It was warmth…purely manufactured. Yet she could not pull away from his furious kiss. No, instead she gave it back tenfold, matching his rage with her frustration.
    “I want what I have always wanted,” she told him, gripping his shirt tight enough to tear the cotton. “What makes you happy. Anything you’re willing to give.”
    “That is enough for you?”
    “ Haan. Yes.”