A Valentine's Algorithm
Copyright© 2026 by Tantrayaan
Chapter 13
Inna woke up in heaven. Her face was pressed against something solid. An arm was wrapped around her waist. She could feel the rise and fall of breathing against her back. The steady thump of a heartbeat near her ear.
She was being held. Spooned. His body curved around hers like they’d been sleeping this way for years. And he was hard. She could feel him pressed against her. Morning arousal. Undeniable. Real.
His hand was on her chest. It was just there. His palm felt warm against her breast. Like he’d pulled her close in his sleep and this was where his hand landed.
Inna smiled and burrowed back against him.
This was it. This was everything she’d imagined. Every lonely night in her own apartment, this was the fantasy. Waking up wrapped in Vikram Sen. Feeling wanted. Feeling safe.
She turned in his arms. Careful not to wake him. His face was inches from hers. Relaxed in sleep. His hair was messy. His lips slightly parted.
God, he was beautiful.
She leaned in and kissed him. Soft. Just a brush of lips.
He made a small sound. Pulled her closer without waking. His hand slid to her waist.
This was heaven. This was real life heaven and she was living in it and ... Pain exploded behind her eyes.
The hangover hit like a freight train. Her skull was splitting. Her mouth tasted like something died in it. The room tilted slightly when she opened her eyes fully.
Oh no.
She was in Vikram’s bed. In his arms. And last night had been ... s
Oh God. Oh no.
The memories came back in flashes. Pounding on his door. Stumbling inside. Crying. Talking. Saying things. So many things.
“I love you so much it’s killing me.”
She’d said that. She remembered saying that. Maybe twice?
“I’d share you. I’d rather have half of you than none of you.”
Her stomach turned over from the shame.
No. Please no.
But the memories kept coming. Wrapping herself around him. Begging him to stay. Clinging to him like a desperate, pathetic woman who couldn’t take no for an answer. Crying into his chest. Making him lie down with her because she couldn’t sleep alone.
And he’d done it. He’d stayed. He’d held her all night even though she’d humiliated herself. Even though she’d confessed she’d settle for scraps of him. Even though she’d acknowledged feeling his physical reaction to her like some kind of creep who’d been keeping score.
Inna’s face burned.
She looked at him. Still sleeping. Still holding her. His morning erection still pressed against her hip because biology didn’t care about emotional devastation.
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