Indický Desi Bhabhi Náš nevlastní bratr

The kitchen was filled with the rich aroma of simmering spices as Roshni stood near the stove, stirring the curry. The warm air made beads of sweat trickle down her neck. Just then, Aarav entered, his presence sending a shiver through her. He reached over her shoulder to grab a glass, his fingers grazing her waist. She sucked in a breath, feeling the heat of his body behind her. "You shouldn't be this close," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Then why aren't you stepping away?" Aarav murmured, his lips dangerously near her ear. A gust of wind from the window flickered the flame on the stove, mirroring the fire burning between them. His fingers traced the soft curve of her waist before he stepped back, leaving her breathless.