The road ahead was rutted and uneven, since till now, it was not repaired and fixed. Arahan slowed a little, but the first pothole still caught them hard.
The bike jolted sharply.
Shalini's body lurched forward with the impact.
Her breasts pressed firmly against his back—soft, heavy, the thin cotton of her saree and blouse doing almost nothing to dull the sensation. Her thighs clamped tighter around his hips on instinct, inner muscles flexing as she tried to steady herself. Her arms slid down from his shoulders; palms flattened against his ribs for a heartbeat before she caught herself and pulled back slightly.
But the next bump came almost immediately.
Another hard dip.
