Page 19 of Don't Date Your Nemesis

His jaw was infuriatingly sharp enough to cut glass. The kind of jaw I’d fantasized about smashing for years, but now, in the dim light, it looked obscenely kissable and all I wanted was to feel it scraping against my inner thighs.

I lunged, my fingers curling into his damp shirt, the fabric clinging to the ridged, hard-earned muscle of his chest. When he groaned into my mouth, the vibration traveled straight to my core, making my toes curl in my stupid high heels.

The clumsy kiss tasted of alcohol and terrible decisions.

His tongue was possessive and demanding, as if he wanted to brand me from the inside out. It was messy, desperate, and tasted like a decade’s worth of loathing finally catching fire.

Ding.

The elevator doors slid open, and the cold rush of air did nothing to cool the fire burning under my skin.

Liam pulled back, his chest heaving, his gaze locked on me like a predator sizing up prey. Without a word, he grabbed my wrist, his grip firm enough to bruise, and dragged me down the hallway.

We fumbled with the key card, laughing breathlessly as we tripped over each other’s feet, practically falling through the door.

The city lights bled through the curtains, painting Liam’s face and golden hair in silver and shadow as he backed me toward the two queen-size beds.

The sheets were cool against the backs of my knees when we stumbled towards the nearest bed. I fell, pulling him down on me, and his weight pressed against me. His thigh slid between mine, and I gasped when the thick, rock-hard ridge of his cock ground directly into my aching center through the thin fabric of my dress.

Shit. He’s big.

“Fuck,” Liam muttered, his voice rough as gravel as he glanced at the bed. “This bed is fucking tiny for me. I should’ve booked the suite.”

“Deal with it, fish boy,” I said, rolling my eyes. My breath hitched when I felt the heat of him pressing into me.

“You’re a nightmare, Sharma,” he said, his hand sliding up my ribs, his thumb brushing the underside of my breast. I could feel the calluses on his thumb catching on the silk of my dress, sending jolts of electricity straight to my nipples. “It’s too fucking small for what I want to do to you.”

As he kissed me again, I felt it. The hard, undeniable length of him pressing against my thigh. Holy shit. My heart did a frantic somersault because he felt even bigger than before.

It had been a lifetime since I’d been with anyone. The ghost of my ex, Yash, flickered in my mind. His lazy, selfish touches, the way he would leave me aching and empty after he got his pleasure.

I was shoved out of my head by a sharp, sudden sting near the column of my neck. Liam growled, biting the sensitive skin and glaring at me.

“Stop thinking about that dumbass when I’m the one making your pussy wet,” he hissed against my skin.

His hand was large and calloused as it slid between my thighs. I gasped, my face flushing as I arched toward him. His long fingers hooked under the hem of my dress, dragging over the silk of my panties. I whimpered when he pressed his palm flat against me, rubbing in a slow, agonizing circle that made my vision blur.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed, his eyes widening. “You’re dripping, Deepika. I can hear how wet you are.”

I swallowed hard, my pride dissolving into a desperate ache. “Hurry up,” I said, almost begging. Almost.

He groaned, a sound of pure agony and want, as he yanked my dress up to my stomach. He didn’t wait to strip me. No, he just lowered his head, his mouth closing over my nipple through the fabric, his teeth grazing the peak until I screamed. He sucked hard, the friction of the wet silk against my skin making my clit pulse with need.

“Fuck you,” he growled, licking the damp spot he’d made.

“Fuck you too,” I shot back, my voice trembling.

“I hate you.”

“Feeling’s mutu⁠—”

His hand clamped over my mouth, silencing me as his other hand slid between my thighs.

“Why do you have to look so fucking sexy today?” he demanded, his voice dropping into a smoky, deep tone.

“In this tiny fucking dress—shit. You want me to make you cum, Sharma?” he taunted, his breath hot against my ear. “Or are you just going to lie there and pretend you don’t?”

Why does he have to be so sexy? It’s not fair.